WhitneyTo Be or Not To Be a Mother - Part Three
March 12th 2007 21:58
It was not an easy task. Getting three people, two of whom were real little, ready in time for an 8 A.M. class. Up at 5 A.M. I fed and dressed Josh first. Then I showered and dressed myself. After which Alex woke up and I dressed and fed her. Then I packed lunches for all of us. And snacks. And diapers and wipes and a change of clothes for Alex and then I loaded us and everything into the car.
Note- sometime while I was getting all three of us ready my husband got up, got dressed and left for work. Yup, I had to feed and dress and package three, but all he had to do was himself. Inside I was so angry but I never said a word. Why, I ask myself now? Why didn’t I tell him that something felt wrong about my having to do all that work by myself while all he had to do was take care of himself? But I knew why. Because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. I was the mother. I was supposed to take care of everything. And all he was supposed to do was go to work. That’s what I thought and no one ever told me differently and so that’s what I let him do. But inside I was growing more and more angry and resentful. And sick.
Anyway, somehow I was able to complete the task and truck my brood over to the on-campus day-care center, all before I had to be at class. The daycare operation was extremely organized (grouped by age) and fully staffed by caring professionals. It’s no secret that I’m a big time worrier, but from the first time I stepped foot inside the director and assistant director put me at ease.
I decided to drop off Josh first. He was placed into the Threes (as in three year olds). The woman in charge seemed a bit militant compared to the other gentle souls that populated the staff but Josh took to the group like a fish to water. Of course it didn’t hurt that there was a huge pile of wooden building blocks which he immediately ran over to, his teacher firmly directing him to stay with the group. Maybe it was the strict tone of her voice but I lost that loving feeling. What if this place wasn’t as nurturing and friendly as I’d thought? What if they were mean to my kids? I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach as Josh’s teacher told me it was time to leave. Time to leave? Shouldn’t I be the one to decide when I have to go? After all he’s my kid. I’m the mother. But Josh seemed O.K. with her. Actually, he seemed better than O.K. He was happy. And he didn’t even blink an eye when I tried to kiss him good-bye. So I left to take Alex to her group.
Alex was going to the toddler group (under two, over one year olds). The teachers encouraged me to play with her for a little while before I left, to help her adjust. We played. She laughed. I kissed her good-bye and told her I’d be back to get her soon. She cried. I walked further away. She screamed. I walked out of the area and peeked around the corner, unseen by her, and she was on the floor wailing and kicking and screaming. Clearly, I was about to cry. The director of the program came over to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder and told me that this happened often. Then she told me to go to class so I wouldn’t be late and that Alex would be alright. Maybe Alex would be alright but I definitely would not.
By the time I got to class I was sick to my stomach and wracked with guilt. I was a terrible mother. A horrible awful mean uncaring selfish mother. How could I do this? How could I leave my kids at that terrible place, Alex crying, that mean woman speaking so coldly to my son? And just because I wanted to have a life of my own. Hey, it was my choice to have them and now I had to own up to that choice, right? When they were 18 I’d get my life back. That was the deal, right? Now all I had to do hold on until they grew up and I’d be home free.
I wasn’t going to put them through this I decided, when my teacher walked into class. And launched directly into the lecture. And suddenly this type-A student opened her notebook and furiously began writing every word the teacher said. Knowing that other wise, the second after, I’d forget (between lack of sleep and lack of concentration memories were truly a thing of the past).
And as I sat there capturing all my teacher’s wisdom something amazing happened to me. I completely forgot about the kids
Note- sometime while I was getting all three of us ready my husband got up, got dressed and left for work. Yup, I had to feed and dress and package three, but all he had to do was himself. Inside I was so angry but I never said a word. Why, I ask myself now? Why didn’t I tell him that something felt wrong about my having to do all that work by myself while all he had to do was take care of himself? But I knew why. Because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. I was the mother. I was supposed to take care of everything. And all he was supposed to do was go to work. That’s what I thought and no one ever told me differently and so that’s what I let him do. But inside I was growing more and more angry and resentful. And sick.
Anyway, somehow I was able to complete the task and truck my brood over to the on-campus day-care center, all before I had to be at class. The daycare operation was extremely organized (grouped by age) and fully staffed by caring professionals. It’s no secret that I’m a big time worrier, but from the first time I stepped foot inside the director and assistant director put me at ease.
I decided to drop off Josh first. He was placed into the Threes (as in three year olds). The woman in charge seemed a bit militant compared to the other gentle souls that populated the staff but Josh took to the group like a fish to water. Of course it didn’t hurt that there was a huge pile of wooden building blocks which he immediately ran over to, his teacher firmly directing him to stay with the group. Maybe it was the strict tone of her voice but I lost that loving feeling. What if this place wasn’t as nurturing and friendly as I’d thought? What if they were mean to my kids? I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach as Josh’s teacher told me it was time to leave. Time to leave? Shouldn’t I be the one to decide when I have to go? After all he’s my kid. I’m the mother. But Josh seemed O.K. with her. Actually, he seemed better than O.K. He was happy. And he didn’t even blink an eye when I tried to kiss him good-bye. So I left to take Alex to her group.
Alex was going to the toddler group (under two, over one year olds). The teachers encouraged me to play with her for a little while before I left, to help her adjust. We played. She laughed. I kissed her good-bye and told her I’d be back to get her soon. She cried. I walked further away. She screamed. I walked out of the area and peeked around the corner, unseen by her, and she was on the floor wailing and kicking and screaming. Clearly, I was about to cry. The director of the program came over to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder and told me that this happened often. Then she told me to go to class so I wouldn’t be late and that Alex would be alright. Maybe Alex would be alright but I definitely would not.
By the time I got to class I was sick to my stomach and wracked with guilt. I was a terrible mother. A horrible awful mean uncaring selfish mother. How could I do this? How could I leave my kids at that terrible place, Alex crying, that mean woman speaking so coldly to my son? And just because I wanted to have a life of my own. Hey, it was my choice to have them and now I had to own up to that choice, right? When they were 18 I’d get my life back. That was the deal, right? Now all I had to do hold on until they grew up and I’d be home free.
I wasn’t going to put them through this I decided, when my teacher walked into class. And launched directly into the lecture. And suddenly this type-A student opened her notebook and furiously began writing every word the teacher said. Knowing that other wise, the second after, I’d forget (between lack of sleep and lack of concentration memories were truly a thing of the past).
And as I sat there capturing all my teacher’s wisdom something amazing happened to me. I completely forgot about the kids
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