Crazy mom

I have been taking Wyatt to a class at the local community center for the past 6 weeks. The class is called “Balls, Balls, Bonanza!” Like the name would suggest, there are lots of balls. (Sports people, sports! Get your minds out of the gutter! For shame!) A gym full of all sorts of balls, sports equipment, and 10-16 toddlers equals barely controlled chaos. There were stations of sorts, ranging from basketball, soccer, hockey, t-ball, bowling, that game with the thing that looks like a hockey stick but has a jock strap style basket at the end (seriously, what the hell is that game called??). The class is unstructured since getting 1-2 year olds in a line to do one activity when surrounded by open free space would be like herding a bunch of baby goats. I mostly let Wyatt lead the way and explore on his own. The “mom” part of me definitely shows herself. Emotions ranging from “oh my god, he picked up the baseball bat and hit the ball off the tee! He knew exactly what to do! My kid is clearly a genius!” to “Oh sweet baby jesus, my kid has a baseball bat!? How do I stop him from swinging at the little targets nearby while acting nonchalant and like I’m not being a helicopter parent or whatever the phrase is for crazy and overbearing?”
Wyatt also seems to be a bit of a bully. I know a lot of it is just the age and him figuring stuff out, but I still have to watch him closely so I can use him shoving every small child in his way as a teaching moment. This community center has a indoor play park that we go to as well. There is a sort of slide made from a big wedge shaped mat. Wyatt was sliding down when he met another smaller kid halfway down the mat. Wyatt hit him in the face, which I saw, so I told him “no!” and told him for the zillionth time not to hit and to keep his hands to himself. Two seconds later, same situation, same kid, but instead of hitting him, Wyatt shoved him off of the mat by pushing him off with his head. Luckily, the other kids’ mom just laughed and said “well he didn’t hit and did keep his hands to himself like you asked!” True, and it was a little bit funny. He needs to learn empathy. When does that happen? When will he not laugh every time when he suddenly flings his head back into my nose causing me to feel like I might pass out? We talk about being gentle, not hitting, about the word “hurt” when he falls and hurts himself, but he hasn’t yet connected how it feels when he gets hurt, to when he hurts others. He currently gives zero shits when he hurts someone else. Hopefully that awareness will come soon. Either that or he is a sociopath and that awareness will never come. 

Most of the other parents at these classes and play parks are pretty chill. For the most part we were all pretty busy watching our own kids play. Wyatt started sharing or stealing toys from another kid, his mom and I watched them work it out from a close distance. “How old is yours?” she asked. I can barely remember what month it is, nonetheless remember how many damn months old my kid is. I said “oh, he is somewhere between 1.5 and 2, I can never keep up with months.” She gave me a strange, slightly disgusted look. I asked how old her little sweet baby angel cake was. “38 and a half weeks tomorrow!” hmm. Good for you. I’m sure when hes 42 years old and still living in your basement he will look back fondly at all of his 504 months spent with you.

Speaking of kids living in basements: my number one reason I need to have another child is I fear that if Wyatt is an only child, I will be like Cersei on Game of Thrones. Not the “incest is best” attitude she has; but the crazy, way overbearing, obsessive mother part. The number of hours each day that I stare at him in awe is embarrassing. I’m pretty sure that as he grows and goes out into the world my worry and obsession will only worsen. Hopefully another child will at least even out my behavior and spread it amongst the two kids. It will also give them someone to talk to other than their therapist about how annoying I am. They will have another kid who understands how painfully embarrassing and inappropriate it is when your mom comes to school to kiss your neck and bring you a jacket when you’re a sophomore in college. Oh my god, I seriously need to go out more. 

P.S. It’s Lacrosse! That game with the jock strap cup shaped net on a stick, Lacrosse! I knew that was somewhere in the depths of my brains

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