Most parents I talk to have the same approach to parenting that I do. They take what they learned from their childhood, reading, talking with and observing others and try to improve on it in some way. The end result ideally being a well-behaved, well-adjusted child who respects their parent(s) and has a good relationship with them.
Well, this past Wednesday evening I was getting Kiernan ready to go to an event and as I was putting on his shoes he says to me, "You good mommy". I was struck speechless. All I could do was say, "Aww", and give him a big hug as my eyes welled up and I fought back tears. It was a very memorable moment. I was sure the night couldn't get better than that.
Well, we got to the event and then everything fell apart. Kiernan has been...shall we say, challenging as of late. Pushing as many buttons as possible to see what he can get away with. This night, when everyone else was sitting quietly listening to stories being told or singing songs, he was being a huge distraction to the class. He was climbing under the table, moving chairs around, playing with the door, anything he could do to draw attention to himself. I was humiliated and embarassed. I wanted to leave. Yet I could not as it would cause even more distraction with the sound of the door opening. Attempts to stop Kiernan and get him to sit down and be still were not only ineffective, but caused him to be even louder, drawing yet more attention to himself. AHHGG!. What happened to the sweet little boy who just told me I was a good mommy? I surely left him at home, this is not the same child. I left him to his fooling around under table, amidst glances from other parents which I read as, "Why doesn't that woman control her child better". I felt terrible, ashamed.
Finally class ended and we left. As we left Kiernan threw a final fit, his last hurrah if you will. I picked him up and started to quickly walk to the car where I could get some privacy and speak with him, perhaps scold him in the process. There in the middle of the parking lot was my neighbor who had invited us. I'm sure by this point she was thinking that was some big mistake on her part.
As I walked by holding a thrashing Kiernan by nothing more than his legs draped over one arm and his left arm grasped in my hand to keep him from hitting the ground, she looked right up at me. Oh what a sight to behold I must have been at that moment. Surely my finest moment for all to see. As she started to attempt to have a discussion with me Kiernan was hollering louder and louder. I was left no choice but to tell her I'd be right back to speak with her in a moment. I quickly unlocked the car, put Kiernan right into his carseat and between his thrashes managed to strap him in. As he screamed and cried in his fit-throwing, unable to thrash any longer, I closed the car door and walked back over to my neighbors car to resume our brief conversation and apologize.
The ride home was miserable for both of us. He screamed and cried most of the way, still upset over the night's events. I didn't care, I was upset too, being very displeased with his behavior. I had been made a fool of by an almost three year old. How dare he! I wanted to park the car and walk away. Far, far away, leaving him there for a period of time. Instead, I continued to slowly drive home hoping Beosig would be there to take over when we arrived. The worst part? Kiernan had a Nasty diaper (with a capital N here) to tend to when we got home. How in the hell was I going to do this? Kiernan was beyond consoling and I was not in a mood to do anything with him, let alone deal with cleaning up poop!
I arrived home only to find that Beosig was MIA. Great, what else could happen to make this night worse? I ran inside after pulling into the garage and allowed myself a few minutes to regain my composure before getting Kiernan out of the car. Luck was upon me, for Kiernan was calmed down by this time too, so we were able to resume our regularly scheduled routine including a bath. By the time a half hour had passed we were both laughing and having a good old time. It was perhaps the most memorable day we have shared together, and it was both sweet and "sour" in a manner of speaking. In the end, the "good mommy" came out unscathed, although perhaps with a slightly bruised ego and tarnished image.
