“Um, can I talk to you for a sec?” the preschool looks at me anxiously, as she covers my daughters ears with her cupped hands.
“Sure, what’s going on?” I ask, gripping my triple grande latte with more force.
“Well, G is having some brand new behaviors and I just don’t like what I see…”
God. Is it because she’s not getting enough attention because her brother is hogging it all as we fight to potty train him? Is she bored? Is she ADHD? Needs more protein? Is she immature, not ready for Kindergarten in the Fall? What am I doing wrong?
The curse of being a teacher and a parent is really biting me as my kids turn into preschoolers who happen to attend at my school. Yes, it will be awesome when we are all three together under one roof very soon. G is starting K at my school where I teach, while her little brother is starting preschool, as soon as he can get out of diapers! Yes it’s great to have one pick up spot and one drop off. It’s nice to see her at lunch when I can. It’s heartwarming to see how my 3rd graders are so warm and loving to my kids, probably because I share so many personal stories about them in Writing Workshop.
It’s not so fun on mornings like today. Also I am not loving being a mom when my daughter experiences her first fire drill across the playground from me. When she shrieks at the winter concert assembly, because I won’t take her home “RIGHT NOW, MAMA, It’s too LOUD in here!” I hope it will get easier, but I’m fighting back tears as I think of the uphill climb I will have to endure with all the parent teacher conferences in my future. UGH.