I remember distinctly being on vacation with my husband watching a mom pull a baggie of ovaltene for her toddler. I said to my husband, you’ll never see me doing that.
Then my first daughter was born it was like looking through a pin hole. Nothing and no one mattered as much as this person.
Oh, to be single. To think I knew so much, when really I understood so little.
It stayed this way until my second daughter and my world grew a bit bigger, and as they aged, funnier.
Then June came, the year my daughter was to start school. I reluctantly at the last moment registered her for school, we met her teacher. She was incredibly cold for someone working with 4 and 5 year olds. More like a drill sergeant than a kindergarten teacher.
September came, and for two weeks school was for the most part uneventful. She came home with an un-eaten lunch and was cranky, and I hated the morning rush. But, she seemed happy. By week three she had enough, she wasn’t aloud to play animal games only whatever games they had decided they must play (usually house or doctor) and she was constantly tired and crying in the evening. I was discouraged from taking her out for half days, or even taking a few days off during the week(I did both any way).
By October, my daughter was hiding under furniture crying. I was crying too. I had heard mumbling of kids saying random mean things, but she finally told me a boy was pushing her out of the way all the time at the slide, she said she almost fell off the play structure. I told the teacher, she said my daughter needed to toughen up, the principal said it was a ‘conflict of personality’.
People will say, you can’t protect them forever. What about the real world. Well, school is not the real world. In the real world if a man pushed me to have my spot in line, I’d call the police.
To my former self, I had no idea the love I’d have. I also could not possibly understand the instinct, and knowing inheritantly what my child would need.