Last week I was sooo ready to send this kid to preschool.
I was frustrated, pushed to the limit, and wondering how on earth I was going to teach the older children anything while running Emma interference.
Yep, she really did draw a mustache on herself today. Right after I told her not to draw on herself.
You should see the 2-inch solid black band (with red accent) she drew around her wrist.
Now frankly, I don’t really care whether or not she draws on herself, but she is just as likely to draw on someone else, on her clothes, on the walls, or even on the furniture.
Keeping up with Emma is a full-time job.
And not letting the hamster of of his cage.
Or dumping all the spices.
Or flushing an entire roll of toilet paper.
Or scaling the hall tree and doing chin-ups on the coat hooks.
Or stuffing yarn into the DVD player.
Or destroying another kid’s math assignment.
Or jumping down half a flight of stairs.
And that can all happen in one day.
These are facts, folks. The child can destroy a room in minutes.
I don’t mean make a mess. I mean destroy, as in cut up the mini-blinds, draw on the walls and break every toy in the box. There have been times that I’ve been in tears because she has literally demolished something. In fact, I had this conversation with my husband a week ago, “How can we get her to stop destroying things.” Because let’s be real…opening the release valves on the radiators and sending hot water all over the floor is not cool.
Or that I value things more than I value her…
The truth is I love her to pieces!
I love her little expressive, elastic face.
She’s a sharp, funny, amazing girl that I wouldn’t miss parenting for the world.
Her manual dexterity is unparalleled.
I’m hoping she’s going to live long enough to be the brilliant, sparkling adult she’s meant to grow into.
That spirit is going to take her places. But can we channel some of it constructively?
The truth, the real truth, is that her incredibleness brings a lot of frustration with. It just ain’t all rainbows and roses.
Rainbows need rain to reflect their brilliance.
Roses tend to have thorns to protect their tender petals.
Last week I had a daydream. I dreamt that Emma was off somewhere terrorizing a preschool classroom.
And I was sitting quietly at home, sipping tea, and reading the read aloud without having to pause every 5 minutes to scrape her off the window she’d tried to scale Spiderman-style, or to remake the peanut butter sandwich that hadn’t been made exactly to her specifications (and thus led to a full nuclear meltdown), or to take away the marker she used to draw a mustache on herself…
…but it was just a dream.
And not a very realistic one. I’ve never had a quiet read aloud time, even before Emma.
Our family just isn’t built that way.
Some families are, I guess. At least, that’s what all the nice little pictures and articles on the internet would have me believe.
Maybe we would get more done. In less time. Possibly?
Or maybe not. Probably not. Because the things we think we want are often not all that. If you know what I mean.
and demanded to be “zipped up” into the sweatshirt jacket I was wearing while I was still wearing it.
And she fell asleep, with her little ankles crossed under her little bum.
My 40lb almost 4-year-old was back in the womb.
If I could safely keep her there, wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Ok, a little too hard on the back, I agree.
But my “Let’s send her to preschool” craziness has passed. I prefer my Emma craziness.
Got any thorns in your life at the moment?