Okay...this was bound to happen, and it pains me to admit it, but I seem to have fallen off the little red play wagon. For the last couple of days I have been terrible about making the time to play. I won't make excuses, because they'd all be lame. I'll simply say, I haven't been feeling very playful...due to lots of things, both in and out of my control.
This morning I volunteered in E's classroom. And there is a little boy who has been problematic all year who was in rare form this morning. He hates school, wails like an animal when his mother (angrily) drops him off, rattles the fence like a prisoner, and then proceeds to sulk and mope throughout the classroom, crawling under the desks and causing general mayhem. The teacher's patience is wearing thin. By the end of the morning, mine was gone. After I firmly asked that he stop disrupting the other children and sit down and cut and paste already, he looked at me like I was an idiot. He wasn't going to play by anybody's rules. Not his mother's, not the teacher's, and certainly not some lowly volunteer's. He was pissed about everything: the colored pencils, the snack bin, the other kids.
It took me all day to realize (and accept), that he and I are not so different. But I'm forty, not five, and so instead of crawling under a desk, I've been crawling into the safe quiet of my office. The house is a disaster, we are out of groceries, and the shirt Kicky needs to wear on her field trip tomorrow is filthy. I think I just had a mommy overload this week, and refusing to play has been my way of lashing out. Granted, it doesn't make it right, it just makes it make sense.
I owe the girls at least two or three hours. I promise I'll jump back on that Radio Flyer tomorrow.
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