Parenting fail 

This week has been really hard on my mornings, and not just for me. My son usually sleeps in till eight am and then we leisurely get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, read a story, watch an episode of Peppa pig while I pick out his hair. But this week, he’s had to be woken up early so I can get him to day care in time to make it across town to get to this class by nine am. It’s been tough. Doesn’t help that he’s finishing up a treatment of prednisone for another out of cold-related asthma symptoms. He really needs his rest. Doesn’t help that his best friend Garvin hasn’t come back to day care since his trip to Ireland and he really misses him. He’s a little more reluctant to move in the mornings anyway. 

 This morning, our third morning of this, I kind of lost my cool with him and yelled and picked him up and carried him down the stairs. He was doing that thing that three year olds do, which is take an inordinately long time to get anywhere, whether because they don’t want to go or because they have a very specific order that other things need to happen first and you just at don’t understand, you stupid adult with your stupid timeframes for everything. I yelled. He cried when I picked him up and moved him. And I realized it’s really not that important, even though it is, so I apologized, about five times. 

He moved on, because the most wonderful thing about three year olds is how forgiving they are when we screw up. When I left him at day care he was in a heated argument with Nathan about whether his mask was Donatello or Donny, and neither would be convinced by my very rational, ridiculous argument that Donny is just a nickname for Donatello so they were kind of both right. I think we’re better now. But I still feel bad. How do I learn to be as forgiving as he is, only with myself?  


~ by realsupergirl on January 15, 2016.

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