The inner workings of a troubled mind.

Separation Anxiety!

Right now my son should be singing songs and coloring on construction paper with his pint sized peers. He should be smiling and attentively listening to the story of the day with his hands folded in his lap like the good child he is. I should be looking forward to dismissal time, where he would run into my arms and show me the latest art project he had made for me. The teacher would compliment me on having the best child in her preschool class, and I would walk away proud while all the other mothers would direct their envious glances my way.

Once upon a time when my daughter attended that same preschool class, it was that way. I had no problems whatsoever. It was a wonderful time, back then. I was stress free, thinner, and felt like I had motherhood and life under control. Those were the days. Sigh.

This is how things really went down today.

My husbands decided on a whim that he was going to be the one to take my son to preschool today. I told him in an extremely calm manner, that the teacher and I had planned for me to come with him today and slowly ease my way out of the classroom while he was distracted. He replied in his " I know everything and you know nothing" tone, that HE would show me  how it's done and this coddling s!@# is only going to make our son worse, and that he wasn't going to let him act like a sissy.

Taking slow and deliberate breaths I calmly said that I think his way would hinder all the effort I had put into easing him into preschool, and that since this was the last class of the week, I would be more than happy to let him try on Monday. In my perfect fantasy world, he would have kissed my cheek and said, "Your absolutely right honey, I wouldn't want to destroy all the hard work you've put in. I know you care for our son unconditionally and you know what is best for him. I fully support you." And then he would have given me a big fat diamond ring and a credit card with no limit.  

So he walks out of the door with my screaming four year old thinking he has everything under control and  probably can't wait to hurry back home and throw it in my face how he handled the situation with perfect ease and expertise.

He left a half hour early, so I knew I had time to work out and shower. Near the end of my shower I heard my phone ringing and ringing. So much for a peaceful and quiet shower.  I finished up quickly and ran to the phone, checking the time before I picked up. It was twenty minutes past twelve, so my son should be well into his class by now.

"HI, how did he do?" I said nervously into the phone. "Ah, yes the door is unlocked. Why are you yelling at me? Hello? Hello?" I slowly lowered the phone and stared at the front door with nervous wide eyes.
Suddenly my front door is pushed open forcefully and my son shuffles in slowly with his head bowed and shoulders slumped. Behind him and angry five foot nine inched man huffs in ticked off to high hell. I immediately shield my sons ears from the thoughtless flow of colorful words my husband is spewing out while trying to stifle a giggle at the ridiculousness of it all.  Let's recap.

My husband: "I'll take him to school. I'll show you how its done!"
Me: Ok but...
Husband: "No buts I know what I'm doing! If you would have done it right the first time BLAH BLAH BLAH."

Fifty minutes later...
Husband: "He wouldn't stop crying, (insert curse words) he was full of tears, (more curse words) and boogers, (cursing, cursing, cursing) and he wouldn't let go of me, (fill in a curse word please) I've never seen him cry so hard."  (Curse) Then he walks out of the door.

My husband couldn't bear to leave our son crying and upset in his classroom.  Not so easy huh?

And I thought I was the weak parent!