Today has started off on all the wrong feet. Well... actually, it started off alright. We got my husband off to work with a minute or two to spare. That was nice. No stress there. Then I came home and made Nolans lunch menu out. First I checked my email to see if the guy from the community schools had emailed me carbs on the new items coming up this week. He had not, So I had to wing it anyway.
But Nolan, in his 4th grade, one track mind... was just not going to get anything done today.
First it was blood sugar. "what was your sugar, did you check it, will you check it, will you check it now, will you please put down the balloon and check your blood sugar. Nolan, check your sugar, check it now." After five minutes, I ask once again, "What is your blood sugar?" as I enter the room and see him bouncing a balloon off of the dogs head, his kit sitting on his lap, zipped up, and he whines loudly with his back to me, "I"M CHECKING!!!!!!!"
"NO YOU"RE NOT!!!!!" I yell, because I have had it. I have told him a billion times, I have nagged, I have begged, I have done all I can to light a fire under the kids ass. But he just wont.
I give him pants. I tell him six times to put them on, and to put them on now, while I am trying to look up his carbs online. Every time I let a minute go inbetween. Plenty of time to put pants on. He emerges from the bathroom, (his dressing room) with bare legs, no pants.
The same goes with shoes.
Then the backpack.
I happen to see that his site looks like it is about to come out. I think about letting it stay one more day, but then I think about getting a call at my new job to come change a site. No, we have 15 minutes, we can do a site change in 15 minutes.
So, here we go again.
"nolan, get me a site please"
down to seven minutes, I am still searching for carbs online while intermittently helping Patrick with his sticking up hair, and knots in shoes, etc.
"Nolan Come ON!"
he yells back, "I AMMMMMM!!!"
but he's not. I find the evidence later that he is playing around with kitchen utensils that look like eggs with eyes on them.
Eventually all gets done. But not until I am at my wits end, and we are one minute late for school. Again.
So, in a last ditch effort to pound something into his head, I scream at him. I scream and I swear, and I hollar and I let him have it, all the way to school, the whole 4 block ride, the car is filled with the loud verbalization of my vile feelings of frustration and anger, disbelief, and... well, anger. I ask Patrick if he likes being late when his brother is farting around. Only I didnt say farting.
I pitted my kids against each other. Mother of the year material right here. I told him I loved him, but that he was driving me to the brink of insanity.
The whole time, torn with guilt at my own frustration, and my inability to give my kid soem sense of being loved when I drop him off for school.
Nolan gets out of the car, and pushes the door shut on his brother, who is trying to get out. The door bounces off of Patricks foot, and I flared.
'GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!" I screamed.
Then I gave Nolan yet another verbal lashing about his attitude. And when I saw it in his eyes, the defeat, the dejected look... I started to cry. He then looked shocked and more hurt... guilty too. He turned around and walked into school, shoulders slumped, totally cooked.
Oh god.
what have I done?
And I cried all the way home.
The guilt of hurting your own childs feelings is immeasurable.
I cant stand myself today.