A kiddo joining the real world can suck.
I didn’t experience postpartum depression. I was bummed that it would no longer be just her and me anymore, but it wasn’t comparable to anything those who suffer from post-partum have to endure. The first time I took a nap while my baby played with her grandmother, I “napped” for less than five minutes. That separation anxiety didn’t last long and I appreciate and continue to embrace the help of others in caring for this little one. As the years passed and I entered my second year of college, I signed her up for pre-school (Which happened to be built in the spot where the house my baby’s father and I met over ten years prior). The workers were great. They loved my daughter and kept me up-to-date with everything. It was a wonderful experience.
Then school happened.
When she started Junior Kindergarten, my daughter attended a school that was hastily put together, combining several soon-to-be-closed elementary schools, and it showed. The teachers and administration were clearly stressed and hurried. I felt for them. But still, her teacher was kind of a jerk. My daughter’s lunch of veggies, yogurt, and cheese were taken away and replaced with a bagel and an angry note home saying I didn’t pack a healthy enough lunch. I kept involved with the classroom and realized I really did not like how these kids were being looked after. But, you can’t like everyone, so I left it at that. My daughter was happy, and enjoyed her first year of school. In Senior Kindergarten we lived in a new city and she started at a new school. The new teacher was wonderful, and her after school daycare was, and still is, lovely.
Then Grade 1 happened.
Grade 1 teachers are super exhausted at this school. I looked into the school and it receives pretty low ratings and seems to be overcrowded, so I don’t expect the teachers operate with decent working conditions. Still, they are pissing me off and getting me panicked about who is looking after my daughter. Also, kids are horrible influences, my friends! My. Goodness. Every parent thinks their child is the best, I know this. And my daughter needs to socialize. This, and my zero time to provide an approved curriculum based education, is why I do not home school. But if I could … We think our kids are the best because we raised them. With our ideals and our values. So, when my child’s teacher reprimands her for hugging an upset classmate when it is silent reading time, I disagree because my values include compassion above all else. This also applies to friendships. I don’t need other kids bullying mine because she believes there is no such thing as girls or boys things. And I don’t need them teaching her gross rhymes about butts and stuff. Or introducing her to Katy Perry and all her cultural appropriation.
This all sounds pretty petty. This all sounds, “Um, ya. That’s called life. The universe does not revolve around you.” This is all correct.
This is life. It is uncomfortable and gross feeling. My daughter is an individual who is going to make friends. Maybe they will be friends who try to, I don’t know; try to get her to sneak outside unsupervised. But I know she’ll come home and tell me. She’ll laugh while reciting dirty rhymes and I’ll roll my eyes and bare it. It makes me anxious, thinking about her, without me, in a world in need of repair. But she will make mistakes. She will learn. She’ll learn more than I ever will. I’ll have to rest assured that I’m doing my best to equip her. I’m allowed to cringe while doing so.
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