Truth: Worst-Mommy-In-The-World Moments

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I've definitely had them.

Those moments where you feel like poo.

The Worst-Mommy-In-The-World Moments

Sometimes, I'm at fault, and other times I'm not, but the feeling is still there.

That's the thing about emotion.  It doesn't listen to reason.

So, let me take you to my Worst-Mommy-In-The-World Moments from the past week:

Moment #1:  Pizza

Last Friday was pizza day at school.

I didn't think a whole lot of it. 

The girls don't LOVE pizza, but I asked them if they would like to eat pizza at school. 

Miss G said, "No, thank you."

Miss A said, "No, thank you."

When Friday arrived, I doled out the pizza to my students who ordered it, and ate my own packed lunch.

At the end of the day, I went to Miss A's preschool room to pick her up, and she was having a fussy end to the day.

I was told that overall, she had a good day, but that lunch was a bit of a problem.

Miss A wanted the pizza.

I asked her preschool teacher how many other kids had ordered pizza.

She said, "ALL of them."

Well, I almost bust into tears.

Imagine Miss A seeing every other child in the class getting a slice of piping hot cheese pizza from the pizza box, with none for her.  The smell alone...

How does a 4-year-old understand that?

Mommy.  How could you?

(I would like to add that they would have given her an extra slice had there been one, because they are caring and loving for all the kids, but there just wasn't any extra.)

Oh, my.  I was terribly upset about how thoughtless I was not to have placed a "just-in-case" order.

Poo.

I felt like poo.

Worst-Mommy-In-The-World:  Shannon Lee

I will tell you that from now on, Miss A will always have a pizza ordered filled on her behalf.  And if she smells it and that's it, I'm alright with it.

She has mentioned pizza to me at least once a day every day since last Friday.

"Mommy, I like pizza.  I want pizza at school with my friends."

You know I know it!!



Moment #2:  Fire Drill

We had a school-wide fire drill on Tuesday afternoon.

My class evacuated quietly and efficiently.  I was very proud of them.

The whole school made it outside in under five minutes.  Well done.

While I was outside in the crisp air on the field with the school in quiet line-ups, I could hear a child crying.

Any Mommy knows the sound of her own child crying from any distance, and I knew it was Miss A.

But, I couldn't go to her.  I am a teacher and I have responsibilities to my students.

Plus, I know she has three rockin' preschool teachers who are so attentive and supportive.

But still...

Poo.

I felt like poo.

Standing there, under the sky, wishing for a different set of circumstances.

The fire bell is loud and piercing.

Miss A was not crying because she was unhappy about the bell.

Miss A was crying because she was in pain from the bell.

Poo.

Here she is, last summer, disappointed by the "noisy ocean."

Poor Miss A has terrible luck with her ears.  Ear infections galore, to the point that she to the best detectiv-ing (I just made that word up!) our family doctor and Ear-Nose-Throat specialist could detect, Miss A had little-to-no-hearing for the first three years (intermittent or complete... we'll just never know).  She had glue ear, and had her ear drums rupture twice in the last year alone.  She has a fairly significant speech delay and the first time our first ENT met her in the spring, his first reaction upon hearing her speak was that she has a significant hearing loss.  We believe that the best current description is that Miss A HAD a significant hearing loss, as her speech is improving steadily.

And, she's as smart as a whip.  And, as funny as a poodle with a noodle.

But, we still don't know everything about her hearing and ears.

And, Eli and I get frustrated, but we are determined advocates for her.

We had another fire drill on Thursday, and our super-awesome Student Support Teacher prepared her for it with a set of noise-blocking ear gear (a headset like one that you would wear around airplanes), which she loves and she decorated with stickers.  Miss A also "met" a puppet who has ears that don't like loud noises, and she loves him.

She rocked the fire drill.  Totally awesome.  I couldn't hear her at all because she was not upset or hurt from the fire bell.  Everyone was proud of her, and her teachers all said that Miss A was so very proud of herself.  She even got to wear the ear gear to the loud pep rally in the afternoon.  What a difference!

When I ask both girls what fire drills were about, they do tell me the safety features, but Miss G always adds that it is "chilly" and Miss A says that "fire drills are really loud."

No kidding.

Oh, and that first one made Mommy feel like poo.

Moment #3:  Playground Duty

I want to clarify one thing first:  I actually really love playground duty.

It's a time for me to socialize and chat with students informally and to see them running around, playing, and just being kids.

On Thursday, I was outside at lunch time.

On my way outside, I passed the Kindergarten area where Miss G was playing with her friends.  They were being a choo-choo train, and choo-chooing around the play structure in a big long... well, train (didn't see that coming, did you?).

I do not supervise Miss G's playground space so I kept on moving to the field, which is my designated area.

About 15 minutes into the 25-minute lunch recess, two sweet third graders came over.

"Um, Madame, your daughter is in the office.  Mrs. A [a teacher] said that you should come there when you can because she hit her face and has a bad scrape and bruise, but it's not an emergency."

Poo.

I consoled myself with the knowledge that the staff at my school is top-notch, so I knew she was in good hands, but the last 10 minutes of recess was a loooong 10 minutes for me.

I scanned the Kindergarten area the best I could from my spot on the field.

Was it Miss G?  Did she get hurt outside?  Why didn't I hear her?

Was it Miss A inside?  Did she fall on some furniture after she was having such a wonderful day at school, fire drill and all?

I can't see the Kindergarten area very well from my supervision area, so I gave up.

When the bell rang, I patiently helped corral the students towards the school doors.

I came inside and went directly to the office.  Someone covered my class for me (seriously, amazing staff!).

Miss G was sitting on the bench hugging her Kid Doggie and crying silent tears.

"Mommy, I fell down and hit some wood."

Poor Miss G was playing choo-choo train and fell or tripped or something and had the unfortunate timing to be near the low wooden enclosure (that holds the sand in) around the play structure.

Smack!

There was a chain of bruises (which, thankfully, were a lot less swollen by the time I took this picture in the evening), and a long scrape-- almost like a rug burn.  She is lucky that the skin didn't break, because I think she would have needed stitches.  I believe that she was protected by the winter headband she was wearing for the cool weather.

She's a brave little trooper.  I gave her some acetaminophen, because I know that I would have had a headache from that injury, and she already had an ice pack from the office.  Soon, she asked to be walked back to her classroom so she could "see her friends."  I think that she also remembered that there was a pep rally that afternoon, and she was pumped to see "Chip Chip," our school mascot.  She had noticed that he was not in his usual display case, so I told her that Chip was getting ready to see the kids!

Still. 

I felt like poo. 

It's not fun when kids are hurt or unhappy.

Recap

So, it's not fun to feel like the Worst-Mommy-In-The-World.

But, I'm happy to say, those moments are usually few and far between. 

I just got smacked with three in under a week.

Normally, I feel like the Luckiest-Mommy-In-The-World.

My girls are pretty awesome little humans, and I'm so glad they are mine.

Would you like to see their school pictures??  They are very cute!!

Miss G 

Miss A