Ever since Laurel started kindergarten I thought I had the sweet end of the deal. I do pick up and Jon does drop off, the latter of which — for the first 6 weeks — ranged from sobbing to worse sobbing and has since leveled off (though sometimes, especially on Mondays, tears and resistance periodically are involved). In short, I thought, “Lucky me! I get Laurel at the end of the day, when she’s psyched to come home and it’s all puppy dogs and unicorns!”
So I thought.
Laurel is not a let-things-roll-off-her-back kind of kid. Though joyful and nonstop chatty in her comfort zone, when in unfamiliar territory she can be anxious and shy. And despite my continued encouragement for her to be creative, make huge messes, and be OK with making mistakes, Laurel seems to have inherited my perfectionist tendencies; I know she worries about making mistakes in kindergarten. She even said as much this past weekend. And I think it leaves her kind of clenched up during the school day.
So how does this relate to the pick up and drop off business? Well, I’ve always believed that kids let it all hang out with their parents (assuming it’s a safe environment) because that’s where they feel safe to do so. It’s one reason why kids will be on good behavior for the sitter or grandparents then transform into hellcats as soon as they’re back with you. And lately, for Laurel, this has translated into her picking fights with me as soon as I pick her up school. Actually, even worse, like yesterday, she’ll be all lovey dovey towards other moms on the playground and then turns on me as soon as we’re off school property. This doesn’t happen every single day, but it has happened enough days over the last several weeks that it’s starting to take its toll on me.
Sometimes my mojo is good and I can let it roll and ride it out, but yesterday I was floundering, frustrated, and sad in the face of this behavior. Intellectually, I know that this behavior is Laurel’s release valve kicking in; she’s dispelling the stress and anxiety that she’s held tight to during the day…it’s (hopefully) not going to last forever. I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but sometimes I can’t help feeling a little pouty over the fact that I explicitly didn’t opt for after school care so Laurel and I could have that time together in the afternoons (which means me catching up on client work in the wee hours). And I definitely feel bitter on the days where Laurel gets out all her foul mojo on me and then is happy and chipper by the time Jon gets home. And then there’s generally feeling like a crap mom on the days where I can’t let it roll off my back (like mother, like daughter apparently) and I stew. Or emotionally withdraw. Or both.
Yesterday afternoon I was feeling pretty sorry for myself (clearly I was in need of my own release valve in the form of a good cry or tantrum…); in Laurel’s opinion everything I said or did was wrong or “inappropriate” (new favorite word). So around 4:30pm I turned to something that had to - for the love of crap! - be a surefire means to turn the crabby ship around: cookie baking.
For Laurel it worked like a charm, whether it was due to the physical exertion of mixing and dropping batter, the sweet and dizzying smell of the vanilla, or the anticipation or act of gobbling cookies. For me the effect was not so immediate (when I get a’ festering it can take a while for me to untangle myself…), but admittedly, I did take at least a modicum of comfort in a fresh baked cookie.
Or six.
Similar to my beginning-of-the-year hope that by Halloween drop offs would smooth out, here’s to hoping that by Christmas this grouchy pick up pattern will have run its course. I love cookies, but I suspect they will lose their luster if I have to eat them every day as a result of these shenanigans.
4:58 pm on November 10th, 2009
I don’t know Laurel very well - the few times I’ve seen her she’s been too shy to let her personality out - but is it possible that she’s just an introvert (in the Myer’s Briggs sense of the word) and just needs some quiet time to recharge at the end of the day? I know that after a full day of people, whether it be work, social or other, I just want to be alone with my thoughts to recharge. If you try to talk to me during that time, I’m irritable and snippy and everything you do will annoy me. It feels a bit like a short burst of PMS! I process internally and don’t like to talk my day over with anyone until I’ve had time to do so (and even then, maybe not). What you see as a fantastic opportunity to bond may be the time Laurel needs for a quiet activity (baking certainly counts!). It’s just another possible explanation for her surliness and, if that’s the case, it’s not going to go away. It’s going to be a matter of changing your expectations. Either way, I’m learning - and I expect that you already know this - that parenting is a constantly evolving journey. Just when you think you have it down, everything shifts and you have to figure it out all over again.
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5:04 pm on November 10th, 2009
Hi Christine,
I truly feel your pain! As a former Kindergarten teacher, I remember getting emails from parents of the SWEETEST CHILDREN telling me about some after school antics. My guess is that you’ve hit it right on the mark.
She will begin to feel more and more comfortable with her teacher and peers soon, and then she will relax a little. She won’t need that release valve, as you put it.
Give it another few weeks, and I bet you will see a change.
Good Luck!!
Amy
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5:58 pm on November 10th, 2009
Laurel might need some time in after care when she can interact with her classmates more freely and with less pressure. It could have a good halo effect on the school day. And maybe you would also feel less pressure about your time together if you could get your own work done on a reasonable schedule.
But mainly, I am hearing “this has to be great/worth it/fun” expectations for the after-school time. My experience is that time is not all that fun, usually. Everyone is tired. There is homework to be done, and projects to be organized, and dinner to be made. Her teacher gets her best time of day, your clients get yours, and you two will get through the dregs just fine because you love each other.
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11:28 am on November 11th, 2009
such good comments so far…re: the first comment, our oldest is like laurel, usually grouchy at the end of the day. he is totally an internal processor and just can’t tell me all the stuff that went on until some time has past. we’ve come up with a code. When I ask “how was your day?” If it was bad, he says, “brown bananas.” That way, I know something’s up, he knows i know, but doesn’t have to figure out how to explain it, and we get home in more of one piece.
Also, as soon as we walk in the door, it’s snack time. my kids are horrible for not realizing they are hungry, and being crabby about it…which means I bear the brunt, as the main picker-upper.
Also agree with jules, though, too. it’s not always going to be a good day. Some days just suck, and sometimes for days in a row. I think what kids learn is that a bad day doesn’t change the way you feel about them, but also how to process, relate and not be a pill to everyone around them.
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4:27 am on November 13th, 2009
such sweet relief for me to hear of other kids letting loose on mama. I think my son is feeling safe, just like you say, when he does it, but here in East Germany it is seen as absolutely horrendous. Worst of all, he’s having some real problems with bullies at school that I bear the brunt of and the school refuses to address.
Thanks for being so honest in your post about the fact that we love our kids even when they aren’t perfect and even when it’s hard to love them.
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