Problem Child

I remember exactly two times in my entire school career – from preschool to graduate school – when I got in trouble. In first grade I had to stand on the wall at recess for five minutes, and in fifth grade I, along with two of my friends, got called over to the teacher’s desk where she told us that even though we were “feeling our oats”, we needed to settle down and pay attention. Juvenile delinquent, I was not.

So imagine my surprise and dismay when, shortly after my daughter started school, we started getting almost weekly reports from her teachers of “rough days” and multiple trips to the “thinking chair”. Today, I was informed at pick-up, was apparently another “rough” day.

According to eyewitness accounts, trouble started immediately after drop-off. Because of bad lighting or inept photographers or particularly squirmy kids (I’m guessing here, we weren’t actually told a reason), my daughter’s class photograph was being reshot at school this morning. You would think that not having to corral 36 preschoolers would be enough of an incentive to not f@#$ up the first time, but I digress.

Allegedly, my daughter (my three-year-old daughter mind you) did not like the way she was smiling in the photo. She demanded a retake. When they had the nerve to say no, she demanded a solo headshot. When they remained firm in their refusal, the situation escalated.

Feeling short-changed, my daughter refused to go to the potty when her teacher noticed her doing the all-too-familiar tiny-stepped, tight-legged pee pee dance. And then, to add insult to injury, her bow fell out of her hair and her teacher callously refused to help her put it back in until she went to the potty.

And then, all Hell broke loose. Still reeling from the utter injustice of it all, she watched in horror as someone dared to eat the last orange slice at snack time. The same orange slice that she wanted.

Well, it was just too much to bear and she started screaming. She screamed so loud and so long that they had to remove her from the classroom so as not to interrupt all of the other non-fit-pitching kids who were innocently trying to enjoy their music time. They took her to the office where she continued to scream, without stop, for a total of 20 minutes straight.

I was mortified.

Why is it my kid that’s always the one? (Her teachers assure me that there are two others in her class that behave the same way. Gee. Thanks.) Now I have to mention here that her teacher was more than slightly amused as she recounted this story to me, which lets me know that she has no idea how these anecdotes pierce a million holes in my heart and destroy my self-confidence. Oh well, I guess it’s probably best I keep that to myself.

The truth is, there are more days than I’d like to count when I feel like I’ve already, in just three years, completely failed as a mom. I see other moms out there with like ten kids who seem to have it all figured out. And here I am, not able to keep one child out of the “thinking chair” at school for more than a week or two at a time.

But here’s the thing. My daughter is sweet, smart, caring, beautiful and has a personality that lights up a room. Whether it’s the grocery store, soccer classes or the gym, everyone greets her by name and remarks how she’s their favorite little customer, student, etc. But, the catch is that it’s the same strong personality that makes everyone love her that makes her fly into a rage and pitch these fits of impressive proportion.

So in light of today’s events, I’ve decided to pour a glass of wine and cut us both some slack. I’ve done all the “right” things to try to modify this behavior. We’ve identified her triggers, given names to all the emotions, made plans of action to keep her frustration from getting “worser” and “worser”. But in the end, I realize that she’s probably just going to be a fireball for the rest of her life. Lord knows her momma can pitch a fit when she wants to, too.