It wasn’t even seven AM this morning when I earned a big parenting “fail” badge.
On the mornings when my wife goes to work early, like today, I face the task of getting Michael up and ready and off to Ms K’s all by my lonesome. It’s not a difficult task, but it’s always fraught with complications which must be overcome.
This morning, it was Michael’s Mood.
I woke him up as I usually do by opening his blind, nudging him a bit and saying “Time to get up. Come downstairs so I can get you dressed.” I think this is a pretty standard dad-type method of waking up a kid.
As I ran a washcloth under warm water, I could hear him take slow, timid steps down the stairs and issuing a plaintive whimper between each footfall. He was gripping both of his prized blankets tightly with one fist and rubbing the sleep and tears out of his eyes with the other.
Not a good way to greet the day.
“Come on, Michael. Come down here so we can get you dressed. We don’t have a lot of time,” I said, trying to help him see the urgency of the situation. After all, I had a meeting to attend at eight o’clock.
His stifled crying gave way to full-on bawling.
“Michael! There is nothing to cry about! Quit crying!” I’m so incredibly sensitive and understanding.
He continued to sob as I directed him over to the couch to get him dressed.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. He pointed at the TV, which was off. “You want to watch something?” He said nothing, but continued to point.
When he reverts to pointing and crying like this, I know he’s extra needy. But I wasn’t of a mind to try to reach him where he was, and I continued my tirade:
“All right, Michael, that’s enough. You have to stop crying. I’m not going to respond to pointing and grunting, you have to use your words.”
More pointing, and louder sobs.
I heaved a large sigh and turned on the set, hoping we’d find SpongeBob. No such luck, but The Imagination Movers was on, and he’s always liked that.
For the moment, he stopped crying. As I continued to get him dressed, he began to whine and point at the TV.
“What?”
“I don’t like this one,” he whimpered.
“Fine! Nothing! I’m turning it off!” I roared, angrily switching it off.
He began crying anew.
Inside my head, a voice was saying “Tom, why are you acting like this? Calm down and be a grownup. See it from his angle, and help him feel better.”
But I was angry, and I didn’t want to calm down. I was angry that he was crying about nothing. I was resentful because he doesn’t have to worry about anything, doesn’t have deadlines, doesn’t care that his dad has no choice but to go to work all day, but still he cries. And I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to see how hard life is for me other people, so he’d see that he’s got it too good to ever cry.
We continued with our episode, him crying and sniveling, my bellowing and growling.
I asked him what he wanted for breakfast, he pointed at the cupboard. I explained that there was a lot inside the cupboard, and he has to be specific about what he wants. He sobbed that he wanted Cocoa Puffs, and I got the box out and poured him a bowl.
He whimpered that he wanted to watch SpongeBob, and I put on one of the DVDs we keep in reserve for those situations where only SpongeBob will do.
And with that, he stopped crying.
And I stopped being angry.
When the calm had settled upon me, I felt horrible. As much as I had originally felt he was wrong for crying and whining, I knew I was far more wrong for behaving as I had, since I’m supposed to be the grownup. I’m supposed to be the one who can rise above my selfishness and see his need for what it is. I should be able to put aside my other burdens and tend to my child in a loving way. This is what I strive for, this is what I wish for. But I failed this morning.
The rest of the morning was much better.
By the time we got to Ms K’s, Michael was right as rain, chattering, asking questions, bouncing around, giving me bear hugs and running off to play.
But I wasn’t. I was still mad at myself. Even to the point of this writing, I haven’t let it go.
I have victories, and I have failures. I’ve been a dad for nearly sixteen years, and I’m still a work in progress.
It’s mornings like this that make me really appreciate my wife’s refereeing skills.
Don’t beat yourself up over this. Yes, You are the grown-up, but Michael also, at some point, needs to learn how and when to pull it together for the greater good of accomplishing what needs to be done. Mornings like that are no fun, but mornings getting out the door need to be no nonsense. It’s a hard balance.
Oh, I have been there. I know that feeling, that awful feeling of having lost patience and let down my child. The funny thing is, they let it go so much more easily than we do. I think back to my own childhood and can’t remember a single instance of my parents being less than normal parents. That’s not to say that they were perfect and I was never angry with them, but there’s no permanent scarring. Hopefully that will be true for our own kids too.
We all have days like that. We all lose our cool a little sometimes. It’s a good thing little ones bounce back quicker than we do – otherwise Morning Madness would cause All Day Whining and All Night Crying
Tomorrow will be a new day!
After reading this post, I felt bad for you. Everyone has mornings like this and sometimes parents get angry and frustrated because of all their other commitments. Parents are perfect people. Can’t be. I bet you’ll remember this a lot longer than Michael. He’ll remember the bear hugs, not the growling bear.
Men can be so focussed it is hard for them to see past that.
fortunately, I have never grown up enough to have that to deal with.
my life with my children was much different, remember?
Soon the grandma will be up there to make everything all better–
there, there, little Tom.
I would guess we all have mornings we would like to have as “do-overs”. The important thing is that he was safe, prepared, and happy when you left him for the day.
Thank you all – it’s really good to know there are others out there who struggle with this too. And you’re right, I’m sure the kids are much quicker to forgive and forget.
Parenting is hard. Period. And, the whining? Ugh. The whining makes it a thousand times worse. I have been there. We’ve ALL been there!
Michael does need to learn to buck-up to some point but I think he was starting to not feel good. Today he woke up before 0600 with a fever of 101 ax(under arm). When he starts getting sick he whining extra hard. Since you are staying home with him today you can give him extra love and attention and that is all he will remember and the chicken n star soup!! yum yum
@Momo – I’d always told myself, before I had any experience with children, that MY kids would never whine. I’d teach them what whining is, and that I didn’t like it, and it wouldn’t help their case. The kids taught me otherwise. It’s like I thought I could arm-wrestle Arnold Schwarzenegger if I just put my elbow in the right position.
@MichaelsMommy – yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what was going on. He’s actually doing pretty good today, and we’re having a fine time. It’s because I’ve resigned myself to the notion of it being entirely his day today; no hopes or dreams to dash.
Just clicked through a string of posts and happened upon you and read this and am now going to become a Follower. I LOVE THIS and can SOOOO relate to it. I appreciate and value your honesty and insight!
@Liz – glad you liked it! Just be warned, my blog is like mixed nuts: you really have to pick through the posts to find the good ones.
Sucks to be human sometimes, doesn’t it?
BTW — you’re mad at yourself for being so rough on Michael. Who are you going to be mad at for being to rough on you?
Followed Liz over here from Eternal Lizdom because of her recommendation and glowing commentary on your blog.
Glad I did. You’re quite an entertaining and emotive writer. Consider me a follower too.
PS: Anyone who has kids is a certified card carrying member of the Parent’s Doubt Club. And some {like me} are even Officers!