Oh, I wish I could report some transcendence going on.  Some redemption.  The stuff that makes this painful story all worth reading.  But I just feel barraged by pain.  It’s getting dull, even for me, but I have to keep writing my way through it. 

Tonight, I feel like I have no skin.  I am spilling out all over.  I am too agitated to sit, and perhaps that is laziness on my part, but that’s how I feel.  So I write.

Sami had a terrible first day at preschool.  I mean terrible.  After all my stress, trying to make the best decision, and he was SO unhappy.  I know it was only the first day, but god, was he pissed.  They have a policy where the parents stay with the kids on the first day, ostensibly to make things go more smoothly.  But it was just bad.  He didn’t want to participate in circle time in the morning, and cried loudly the whole time like it scared him.  Then he kept loudly proclaiming that he wanted to go home.  He got kicked out of the lego area for making too much noise playing with the legos.  He threw an enormous fit when his group was supposed to go to the other room, and we did go for a while, but then was worked up into such a tantrum about some lego pieces not being put together the way that he wanted (and I tried every configuration to please him) that there was nothing I could do for him.  Finally one of the staff took him outside for a while and that calmed him down.  She had been reading a book to one of the children, and as she carried him outside, screaming his head off, I took over reading to this little girl, crying and trying to pretend not to cry, hoping and praying that none of the other parents or teachers saw me cry.

I didn’t like the school, in truth.  I really had thought I would.  I had visited and it seemed great.  All my friends gave it a glowing report, as well.  But I didn’t like all the rules.  I mean I know we need to have rules in life, and we have to make sure that our behavior is respectful of ourselves and others.  But a lot of these rules just seemed like they were in place to make things easier for the staff.  Which is fine, and I respect child care providers.  I think it is holy work.  But Sami was just so miserable there.  It went above and beyond the bounds of first day miserable.  And that was even with no one really forcing him to do anything.  I guess part of it is that at 2 years 9 months, he might just not be ready for preschool, and that is ok.  He was happy at his day care.  Maybe I should have kept him there.  It’s not too late, really.  I’m sure they have a spot for him.

I guess Sami’s behavior brought up a lot of feelings in me.  Mostly I felt like a bad mom.  Why does he play so aggressively with his trucks?  Why does he not listen to anyone asking him to please be gentle with toys?  Yesterday he threw a sippy cup full of milk down the stairs at me, seriously hurting me, for no reason that I can fathom.  Am I being aggressive without consciously realizing it?  Why does he whine and cry when any other child tries to play with him?  My son would not play with me or anyone else, but all these little three year old girls kept gravitating to me.  They snuggled in my lap and we read books.  They played legos with me, and chattered away about sweet things. 

I keep having these feelings that something is wrong with my son, that something is wrong with me, and it brings up so much shame and sadness in my heart.  There is a part of me that just wants to fit in, and I don’t.  My son doesn’t fit in either.  I know it is only the first day there, and I am probably overreacting, but I have a feeling that this is not the place for him, at least right now.  I am going to give it another try tomorrow, and try to be positive for his sake, but if it doesn’t go well I think I am going to send him back to the daycare.

I have no skin.  Everything hurts to the core.  Wish I was stronger, less impervious.  Tonight I took Sami to the mandatory parent meeting at 6 pm at the school and this is what the director greeted me with:

“This isn’t going to work.”

(me) “What isn’t going to work?”

“Him being here.  It’s just too adult of a setting.”

I was stunned.  They had never said one word in their materials about not bringing children.  I told that to the director, told her that I was a single mom and what was I supposed to do?  And I walked away biting back angry tears.  One of the other moms ran after me and apologized, said that I was right, that they should make that clear in their emails and orientation letters.  But I had such a bad taste in my mouth.  I’m so fucking sick of doing this all on my own.  I’m so fucking pissed that I was kicked out of the parent meeting. 

I want so much to get out of this place, this whiny place where all I can see is what’s wrong.  So I need to take responsibility.  I need to sit, I know.  I will try, for just a few minutes tonight, to sit still with this brokenness and the light shining through this mess and see what is there.