Chelsea Kaplan’s Musings About Life... After Birth

When we first signed up for the class, I was really psyched, but at the first class grew nearer, I began to be filled with dread. My son, who will be two in early October, has been hell on wheels recently. He is exceptionally active and willful; a blonde-haired, blue eyed Tasmanian Devil. Perhaps devil isn’t the right way to put it, because he really isn’t a “bad” kid, but when he doesn’t do what I wish he would - and what it seems like most other kids his age can easily do (sit still, go with the flow), that’s what it feels like.

“Dude, I’m worried about him in class tomorrow,” I said to my husband last night.

“Why?”

“Um, two words: circle time”

“Oh,” he said, wincing. “Good luck with that one.”

My fears were confirmed this afternoon. All the other kids merrily (for the most part) sat in the circle and listened to story time, and had no problems following directions. My kid ran around the circle, as if someone imaginary friend was playing “duck duck goose” with him. Once he spotted a piano in the corner (thankfully, it was closed), he ran over to it and tried to pry it open - all while a group song was being sung. Coloring time captured his attention, but when it came time to give up his crayon, he was not psyched at all. With about 10 minutes left in the class, he began wailing for milk, bolted for the door, figured out how to open it, and ran out into the hall while the other kids were all receiving apple hand stamps. I felt like I deserved a hand stamp that read “Mom who cannot control her nutball child”.

I was trying to adhere to my “I do not negotiate with terrorists” policy and not to give into my kid’s milk demands, but Momtourage member Alison wisely told me to just go to the theater arts center’s cafe and get him some. Once I did, he was fine. It was the right advice. “Everyone has bad days,” Momtourage member Jessica said to me after she joined us in the cafe. I nodded in agreement, unsure of who was having a worse one, my son or me. I felt like crying and calling my husband to tell him how much I can’t stand our kid.

After the class, Momtourage member Jen and her mom, who had joined us for the class, came into the cafe, and came over to me.

“Oh, God, I hope he does better next time,” I said. “I just hate being the one with the problem child.”

“Let me tell you, I have taught preschool for over 20 years, and that kid is not a problem child,” Jen’s Mom said.

My eyes widened. “Really? You promise?”

“He’s just all boy, that’s it,” she explained, nonchantly but in a totally caring, compassionate way. “He’s a boy - that’s what boys do. I don’t mean to generalize gender, but at that age, it’s usually true. Most boys his age are like that - you really shouldn’t worry about him.”

Perhaps it was her professional expertise or maybe it was because she is a seasoned mom, but hearing this from her - even though so many other people have said the same thing to me on other occasions - was exactly what I needed at that moment. I suddenly felt OK, and no longer wanted to cry. I believed her.

We all wheeled over to California Tortilla for lunch, and then back to our cars, packing everyone into their car seats to head home for nap time. Momtourage member Alicia and I praised Alison’s twins for their great behavior in the class.

“You ladies get the gold stars for best behavior today,” I sang. “And coming from the worst behaved, we really feel confident in our recognition of it!”

Alison’s mother-in-law, who had also joined us for the class to give Alison an extra pair of hands, said, “So, there’s room for improvement for next week! There’s only one way to go!” This last shot of positivity from the Grandmomtourage was the final vaccine I needed in the treatment of my mothering-ability insecurity, not to mention my concerns regarding my kid’s sanity.

It’s the Momtourage that keeps me sane nearly every day, and even though they continued to do so today, I know that today’s the real award for best behavior goes to Jen’s mom and Alison’s mother-in-law, who will from this point forward be affectionately labeled the Grandmomtourage.

Ladies, you can hang with us anytime. In fact, will you....please?