Yesterday was one of those days. It started out great, both the boys were all smiles for the morning. C napped with no fuss and K was my little buddy while we rearranged the furniture upstairs. When the time arrived for swim lessons, he was so excited that he begged James to come along. Despite his workload, James agreed and we all packed into the car and headed for the Y. Everything was going great, James dropped us at the entrance, K and I ran excitedly into the Y, into the changeroom, hurriedly got changed, dashed to the pool, and abruptly the mood shifted. K refused to get in the pool.
At first, no problem, we start all our 'group' adventures like this. K tends to be anxious, but he loves swimming, so "no worries," I tell myself "this will pass." Five minutes pass, and he'll sit on the edge of the pool, but won't get in. Ten minutes, still refusing. Twenty minutes, now class is almost over. Twenty-five minutes, all the kids are going down the slide, and K is still outside the pool. And I've been patient, I'm the only mom left standing by the pool instead of in the viewing area, and he's the only kid not participating. James is smiling at me through the viewing window. There's 5 minutes left and now I'm done being patient, so I tell K we're done and going to get changed.
And that's the moment. The moment when he goes to being a scared kid who's still endearing enough to get away with it, to the bratty kid who's throwing a fit and is old enough to know better. Now he wants to go in the water. Now he's crying because we have to leave.
Usually in this type of situation I would just scoop him up and go home. But he's wet, and in only a swim suit, so in this midst of his screaming and flailing I have to attempt to quickly get him changed. Not an easy task, the change rooms are crowded, and he's slippery, and his suit is sticking, and he's screaming, "No, No, NO NO!", and I'm mortified. I'm embarrassed, and angry, and I just want to get out of there. I can feel people watching us. I can hear the whispers. In the midst of all this chaos, I'm still "calm"(although I must be red as a plum because I blush when I'm embarrassed). I'm just focused on escaping, when I feel a hand on my shoulder and a women's voice in my ear,
"Its okay, we've all been there."
I muster a small smile, finish getting our boots on, and drag K out of there. It was a very sweet, genuine gesture, and I appreciated it. But as I climbed into the car, completely defeated, K still yelling, I broke down and had my own little tantrum. I cried the whole ride home. Lucky James, what a day to come to swimming!!
Apparently tantrums come at all ages, and as much as "We've all been there" it certainly doesn't feel like that in the moment. In the moment it feels like all eyes are on you. It feels like you must be lacking some fundamental parenting skill. In the moment it just feels bad.
Today will be better.... I hope
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