So I sent my son to school with no pants today. Yesterday I sent him to school with no lunch.
You’re probably calling CPS right now… hear me out for just a minute.
First, I need to vent. I’m having the hardest time of my life right now. Parenting is just hands down the most trying job I’ve ever had. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when my husband and I decided “let’s have a baby” one night with way too much wine and stupid ignorant expectations. I mean, it’ll be so much fun, right???
And now I’m here. Driving away from my son’s preschool, eyes welling up with tears. Because I just walked him to his classroom with no pants.
It was a strategy. His teacher and I discussed it yesterday. Every day, getting clothes on is a battle. It’s a bitch, really. And packing his lunch is like pulling teeth. And my son is the king of manipulation and power struggles. So we are trying to stay on top of the game. He knows how to get dressed, he knows how to pack his lunch. If he refuses, he faces the consequences… meaning he goes to school without a lunch or clothes.
Maybe it’s a little extreme (don’t worry, they do feed him at lunch and they provide clothes there), and I certainly assure you it’s embarrassing as hell. Walking my son through the school doors with undies and a shirt this morning was humbling and bewildering for me, I can only imagine it was a mix of feeling for my son too.
I should mention we are at a Montessori school. At daycare, this would be a whole different animal. Daycare doesn’t care who dresses my son or who packs his lunch, but they sure as hell aren’t going to give me the thumbs up when I walk him in without clothes or food. Montessori is such a different style of learning and responsibility, it really deserves its own post or ten. And I’m not ready to tell that story yet because frankly I still have a lot of learning to do.
I’m not saying either one is right or wrong. But there was bound to be some pushback when I switch to one style of education to another this past August. I mean, it’s ignorant to think the transition would be smooth as butter. But this hard? Sh-ittttt.
I’m overwhelmed, I’m scared, and I am trying to take this day by day because just making it to 8 p.m. is freaking hard. I’m supposed to be implementing consequences. So far, I’ve taken away the TV, I took away the toys, and last night I even removed my son’s books. I’m running out of consequences here. What is left to take away?
The goal is to make things better. My prayers are things will get easier. But sometimes it’s hard to keep my eye on the prize and I just wish someone else could do the work. Sometimes I just want to run away and let someone else figure it out. Because anybody could do a better job than me at this point. It’s like I’d be doing everybody a favor.
Of course, I won’t run off. I love my kids too much and I don’t want to go a single day without them in my lives. But I do feel like I should tattoo #fail on my forehead most days. And I resent that parenting isn’t more intuitive. I thought being a good mom would just settle on me like a well-loved pair of pants.
Pants… Get it????