Today has been a bad day. And it's only 2pm. And as I think about it, not just today but pretty much since moving we have had one long, only shortly interrupted with happiness, bad day.
Especially with Henry.
I think I have spent more time crying on the floor in the hall or in Henry's room than I can remember doing since he was born.
Today was a continuation of the bad day. Here is a quick run down: Henry is up for an hour in the early, early morning (2-3:30am), will not cooperate with getting dressed, throws a tantrum, has several time-outs which result in him hitting me several times during the time-out since he won't stay in time-out and I have to hold him; screaming, and crying ensue on both parties' ends. Finally some calm is restored, a couple books are read, clothes are put on and Henry goes to preschool.
Then I pick him up from preschool only to find out that he has thrown a rock at a boy's head and created two gashes on said boy's forehead while playing at recess.
I have to stop here first to say that I don't think Henry is a
bad kid. He does have a good heart and he is a good boy but somehow he is always involved in the trouble. One of my cousins who worked at the preschool said, "Oh the boys are always throwing rocks and we always have to get on them about it." But, of course, Henry is the only one to nail another kid in the head with a rock and cause gashes.
Just like he manages to be the only little boy who wants to always play with the biggest boy in the preschool and end up getting knocked over or pushed off the slide.
It's like he's a magnet or something.
A while back a friend of mine wrote a great blog post called
"Unfit" wherein she discussed some of the frustration she was feeling surrounding her emotions about parenting. I think today's post will be a bit reminiscent of her post in that I feel completely unfit to be a parent at this moment.
Like I said, I don't believe for a second that Henry's is bad. I just feel like I am failing him somehow: not giving him enough structure; disciplining him too much and not advocating for him enough; not disciplining him enough; not finding ways to help him sleep; not finding ways to get him to eat more; worrying too much about him;not worrying enough about him.
I mean, I blew up in the car on him. I yelled. I mean yelled. I told him he knew better than to throw rocks, what if that boy has to get stitches, how could he have done that, no shows for him and certainly no treasure from the treasure box this weekend even if he earns enough magnets etc.
Then I fee like I over reacted, I mean, kids will at some point throw rocks right? If it had happened to him I'd be unhappy about it but if they were all throwing rocks at each other and Henry was the unlucky one I would just tell him to not play where kids are throwing rocks next time and give him some ice cream or something.
But somehow, now I feel like Henry is, again, "that kid" like he became in nursery and swimming lessons-even though he wasn't malicious but just, I dunno a kid; getting ouy of his seat or not staying on the step.
I guess what it comes down to is that I have this nagging feeling that never wants to leave that I have ruined Henry or done something to make him 'that kid.' You know, the one primary leaders and teachers will always dread coming into their class. Then I have another nagging voice that says I'm a horrible parent for even thinking of letting myself see him labeled as, 'that kid' and I should stand up for him more in every perceived slight towards him.
I don't know what to do. I want to help Henry but I feel like I don't know how. I need him to eat more and sleep more in the hopes that it will be easier for him to have more good days. Mostly I feel guilty that we move so much and have to change his routine all the time based on moving and then school schedules.
Then enters the big guilt which says this is just another reason why we shouldn't get to have more kids-look at the horrible job I'm doing with just one.
I know I'm viewing things too emotionally and not rationally enough but it is still painful and frustrating. So what do you do when you feel like a failure as a parent so you don't just crawl into a hole and cry?
Here he is! Maximus Aidan Jones born this past Sunday morning.
And here is a pic Max's mommy sent me today on my phone of him wearing one of the outfits we got him. I thoroughly intend to be the most beloved and over-indulgent Aunt that ever was, especially since I can always hand him back if he decides to be naughty! haha. =)
