Save me, Maria Montessori!

Having defeated her mother with little effort, 

it's time for this warrior to move on to a bigger challenge.

The other night was one of our more epic (no) sleeps.  After Eli awoke at 3, there was just so much pooping and nursing and rocking and finally a little bit of (mom) crying and begging, and then he went back down at 4:30.  Now, I am a bad sleeper.  My kids come by their troubles honestly.  No matter how tired I am, if I am not properly wound down, I do not sleep.  And an hour and a half of baby wrangling at a time of night that is less than conducive to rational thought (“I will never sleep again.  And my brain will waste away.  And I will hate everything forever.”) is definitely enough to wind me up.  So I tried to take deep breaths, to quiet my thoughts, but every time I was close to slumber, Will sniffed, sneezed, or rolled over, and BAM, I was awake.  He was having one of his somewhat frequent nighttime allergy attacks.  Not so long ago, I was sympathetic to his condition.  I don't deserve a medal for being nice to my husband when he felt sick, of course, but I want to mention it.  Because last night when he had an allergy attack, I wanted to chase him out of our home with a fiery torch and tell him and his monstrous allergies to never return.  My arms and legs could not muster the strength to help me fashion a torch, though, so instead I had to rely on that which never tires - my acid tongue - to have a good old fashioned verbal freak out.  Even his absence didn't help, though, because by the time he was gone, Eli was done sleeping soundly, and it was just a pile of horrible hours until I fell out of bed in time to eat before Will left for work.

Eli finally got back to sleep after Will left.  So I was able to tend to my beloved chores, but get not a minute more rest.  Edie followed me around hoping I might turn back into a mom.  Alas.  When Eli finally woke up, it was time to get going.  Up he went onto his changing table and, like clockwork, Edie said she HAD to go potty.  She had JUST gone.  Are you sure, Edie? Yes. Can you wait? No.  Ok, go sit on the potty and I'll be in to help you as soon as I get Eli changed.  And then for the second time in two days, she goes into the bathroom and - inexplicably - pees on the floor like an angry cat.  It. is. maddening.  She's too young to even know what she's doing or why.  But she's old enough that she does it deliberately and then immediately be totally flummoxed as to why she made that decision.  Then I yell.  And she cries. And there is no resolution.  And I know that I’ve turned into a mean person but I am just so out of it.

Edie has passed the two and a half mark and she’s a full-fledged maniac kid.  A kid with a lousy mom.  I think it would be tasteless hyperbole to say I’m the world’s worst mom, given the horrors out there.  But, for the past several weeks, I’ve definitely been the worst mom I’ve ever been.  Since Eli was born, I’ve been exhausted and most of the energy I have is funneled via biological imperative into the care of the new baby.  From Edie’s angle, she’s down one mom.  So with the pillar of her existence stepping aside to prop up someone else, my little girl hasn’t been treated like the little girl she is.  And she screams about it. Which makes me beg her not to scream. And this makes her scream more.  Sometimes, I scream too – a tactic which is wildly, wildly ineffective and yet incredibly tempting to try.  It breaks my heart, but unfortunately for both of us, too often I push away my sadness and just feel mad instead.  When she wanted my attention the other day, she said to me “Mommy, can you take me to my room? I’m gonna scream.”  That is, she asked me to take her to her room to scold her for screaming.  She rightly figured that was a good way to get some time with me.  Add that to the innumerable times my Edie has held up a mirror to things I was trying not to look at. 

But next week, Edie and I might both get a little relief, because she’s starting preschool.  Three days a week, she will be attending a local Montessori school.  I was really on the fence about doing it.  She is only two and half, and I feel a bit as if I am outsourcing raising her.  The thing is, even if a good mom could keep her two year old happy alongside her new baby – and, ergo, I am not a good mom – then, that’s just how it is.  I can see that I am lamenting a non-reality – that is, a universe where I am enough for Edie right now, both in stimulation and affection. 

It’s a great school, and it’s right up her alley, pedagogically.  Montessori Method is all about respect for the child, integrating them into the world around them, and independence.  When we took her in for her interview, we had to wake her up from her nap and toss her into the car half-sleeping, half-crying.  I did not have high hopes.  But after we arrived, and I leaned down to explain that a teacher would like to meet her and show her some projects in a classroom, Edie dropped my hand and clasped the teacher’s.  She marched forward and did not look back.   I’ll try to do the same.