Preschool Blues

I interrupt the Indiana program to give you this brief diatribe that is psychologically necessary to get through the next hour or so.

Why, do you ask, in the world, would I be eating stale Cheez Doodles at 10:30 in the morning? Because Nathan started preschool on Monday, and we're both having a very hard time with it.

Monday wasn't bad. He cried for about 7 minutes and then was fine. I know the exact amount of time that he cried because the preschool is right next door to us, and I could hear him gasping and sputtering inconsolably, and I had to stop myself from going over and taking him back home about 112 times in that 7 minutes.

Having the preschool next door is a great convenience, but I didn't think about the fact that I can hear the kids from my living room. Monday's first 7 minutes were sheer torture, but then it was over, and I went on with my morning and hung out with Joey and when I picked Nathan up, he was happy, and had projects to show me, and all was well. Ah, maybe this wasn't going to be so hard after all.

Then, this morning came - day two for him, as he's going Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He opened his eyes and said, sleepily, "I don't want to get out of bed." He's NEVER said that. He's always ready to go when he wakes up.

So I said, "come on. Let's go have some breakfast!"

To which he replied, "and then we'll go back to bed?"

Now I knew I was in for it. The next half hour was basically him crying in his cheerios, literally, about how he didn't want to go to school. He even went so far as to tell me, "daddy said if I don't wanna go, I don't have to!" (Needless to say, Nathan was a fibbin' on that one!)

Miss Lisa, the teacher, had to pry Nathan off my leg, and I had to walk away from him as he screamed and cried hysterically.

So, now, I sit here and think, gee, I've been told parenting is hard, and it's frustrating, and it's rewarding, and it's all these things, but no one ever highlighted how painful it can be. The responsibility - ay ay ay. And I'm not talking about life or death responsibility. That's a whole other ball of wax that led me straight down a fast path to Zoloft.

I'm talking about the responsibility for the psychological damage. If I didn't send him to preschool, he'd surely have a harder time adjusting in elementary school, and then when he's a 30-year-old, unmarried, shy nerd living at home with us, he could curse me for not pushing him harder when he was small.

But by pushing him now, causing such tumult in his little being, maybe he'll come home in his late teens with a pierced forehead and a tatoo on his chest that says "Mom Sucks" with a knife through it, and introduce me to his girlfriend and his boyfriend, saying "we're polyamorous. Get with the program," while a gray haired Steve and I try to be hip and down with whatever the kids are doing these days, all the while wanting to go back in time and never have sent him to that darn preschool when he was 3 1/2!

I'm thinking too much, per usual, and the snacks are not numbing the pain, but rather just making me feel a little sick. Where does this emotional eating come from? Oh, yeah - Children's Corner Nursery School. I was four. They made me eat all of my food that was covered in gravy the consistency of snot before I could have a drink. I hated that place. And now I have a tattoo. It's a black cat on my ankle - nothing against my parents, but they hate it as much as I hated Children's Corner.

On the bright side, I still adore and respect my parents, and always have and always will, so I guess that's what I'll have to hold onto. This whole parenthood thing is nothing but a big your damned if you do and your damned if you don't, huh? In the end I guess you just have to hope that your kids know you're doing your best and don't hold too much against you when they inevitably rebel.

But I'll be damned if I'd give it up for even a second, of course.

This is just the beginning, Jen. Just the tiniest tip of the iceberg. Get ready!

Better go stock up on Cheez Doodles. And cookie dough. Yeah, there was some cookie dough involved. Did I leave that part out?