On the heels of the drama at the allergist’s office, Luke started first grade.
Last night at bedtime he melted into a puddle of tears and boogers as he told us about his day…
“I lost points! Three points, because I screamed during quiet time! But I only shouted Woo-hoo! because I thought we were going to do something fun,” he sobbed into his father’s chest. “She’s…so…mean!”
I pushed down the lump in my throat, “Oh, it sounds like it was an accident. You were excited. It’s ok, Luke.”
“But now I lost three points!”
My boy is not easy. He’s intense and stubborn. He’s also bright, creative and kind and loves to laugh (when he’s in the right mood, of course). If I loved him any more, I think I might accidentally smother him.
Sometimes I sit on him (lightly) and tell him he’s my little egg and I’m the mama chicken.
The problem is with this type of personality, we’ve learned over the past 6 years, everything has the potential to be a huge, catastrophic deal. He hasn’t developed the ability to stop himself from boiling over and now that school is much more structured (way more than kindergarten was), he’s been challenging us nearly every moment.
I spoke with Luke’s teacher today on the phone. She’s quite different than his kindergarten teacher, who was much like a second mom to her class of 5-year-olds.
“He seems happy at school and has lots of friends,” Mrs. A began to tell me. “He’s very bright,” she paused, “but he has trouble sitting still, trouble focusing during story time on the carpet. Following directions can be a problem.”
I listened until she was finished, “At home he focuses very well on what he wants to do, but not on things I want him to do.”
(Sigh.) Just like his mom.
Unfortunately, my boy and I only like activities we really enjoy. All the other annoying crap that goes on around us can go take a hike. We’re busy doing our thing.
I often walk around distractedly with toilet cleaner or stamps in one hand while attempting to make the beds with the other. My mind shoots off in various directions – clean the toilet, address those letters, food shopping, doctor appointment. Even today, I leaped (literally) over to the computer to jot down my blog thoughts while washing dishes. Some call it multi-tasking. I call it wasting time.
If I could only make it easier for my kid. Life gets easier, life gets harder. More rules and less rules.
I think we’d all agree that it’s great to be an adult (Yay! I don’t have to chew with my mouth closed or tuck in my shirt!), but other parts of life (I didn’t get the job or Oh crap, I forgot to pay the electric bill!) can be stressful. We don’t see the beauty and freedom of childhood until it’s over with. No lecture, no matter how detailed nor how many puppets I use, can explain this in words my son will understand.
I guess he’ll have to settle for wiping snot on my shirt as he cries and letting me hug the bejesus out of him until he wriggles away to go play with his trains.