Bear was chasing Bug around the large, white room, yelling at him “MINE! MINE! MINE!” to give him a slinky. Bug, however, is quicker than Bear, and darted behind a few occupied chairs peering around a shoulder at his brother. They weaved in and out of chairs, tripping over feet and file folders.
“Beeee aaaaaar,” I am using my sing-song voice, hoping he can’t hear the edge of nervous stress. “Can Bug have the slinky for 2 minutes then YOU can have a turn?” I notice I have a slightly northern accent and absently think I sound like Stewart’s mother from Mad TV.
Dejected but obedient, Bear sighs heavily and says, “OK,” and walked over to play with another toy.
Shocked at his compliance but trying not to show it, I smiled at the 10 other women in the circle, the ones from the Elementary school that Bear would be attending this fall if I wasn’t holding him back. The ones I’ve been terrified to meet because I thought they’d judge me from an higher educated position and politely tell me I was an idiot.
The assistant Principal smiled back at me, an open friendly smile, and everyone else looked extremely impressed at the wonderful, calm mother firmly disciplining her children. I’m not going to lie- I looked GOOD.
The silence hung in the air after the loud outburst; the counselors, therapists and teachers who had been talking had paused with my children’s screaming distraction. I smiled and, ever the hilarious silence filler, said with my voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “They are always like this. I am such a GREAT mom.” and everyone laughed.
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Isn’t it funny how we let things get built up into a huge deal that we worry and fret over… then nothing happens? My meeting went great, amazingly even; they respected and supported my opinion to keep Bear out of kintergarten this year. It’s just another reminder not to give into my nervous, stressed out tendencies. 