“YOU’RE DOING GREAT!”
“SO ARE YOU!” I shouted back to my neighbour this afternoon, after we’d exchanged tales of our grumpy post-school/nursery children. There’s nothing like another woman cheering you on from across the street. We could all do with a “You’re doing great!” every once in a while.
It had been a challenging afternoon, for the smallest of reasons. Mainly Leo’s steadfast and highly audible refusal to leave the house when we were meant to. (In fairness to him, it was an hour before our usual school-run departure time – I was taking my dad to a balance class, or trying to -and the poor boy hadn’t had his usual couple of hours to play and just be cosy at home.)
“I just want to stay home!” he demanded. I understood completely.
“What am I meant to do? Leave you at home on your own?!” I responded, still able to half-joke at this point.
“Yes! Do that!” He said, in all seriousness.
It was the simple donning of a pair of gloves that tipped us both over the edge. Anyone who’s ever tried to rush a toddler knows it only serves to create the reverse effect. Toddlers can’t be rushed. Rushing rarely ends well. (See a previous column on injured fingers.) Staying calm is key. But I’ve never done calm very well and we were now running late. After trying the right glove several times (he’s still mastering the act of getting his tiny fingers into the tiny gloves), I suggested we try his left glove instead. Slid on perfectly.
“Right do exactly what you’ve just done but with your other hand now..”.
This is where there was clearly a misunderstanding. I assumed it hadn’t gone on properly, (it didn’t look quite there) so yanked it off ready to try again. Leo however, seemed to think it was on just fine. And after all those failed attempts I’d only gone and taken us back to square one just as we’d hit the finish line. Devastated, he immediately erupted in cries of despair at my appalling act of stupidity.
My attempts to make things right and “try again with the glove” were met with understandable rage. Now, near-enough ready to go, any cooperation I’d fostered in the last few minutes had vanished, any hope I had for making it to the car, lost. From then on every point of progress became a tantrum; leaving the house, walking to the car, sitting in his car seat.
I did eventually collect my dad. He was admirably patient and somehow made it to his class on time (which only shows how his life-long insistence on “allowing plenty of time” is a wise one).
Leo was eventually successful in getting his right glove on. I didn’t yank it off this time. We sat in the car near school munching on Tunnocks Caramel Wafers as if the last half an hour hadn’t happened.
“Look mummy, a squirrel!” I marvelled at my three year old’s ability to switch emotional gears so rapidly. Helped of course by the sugar.
“Are you okay?” my dear friend Annie asked as we headed for the school gates to collect our daughters. I told her of my struggles, as I always do, and immediately felt better, as I always do.
Raising children is hard. We’re doing…the best we can.
The Colourful Kind 