Notably Unappreciated

As we returned back home from our trip to Idaho this summer we found out that Emily didn’t get into the preschool that we had signed her up for. We were the first non-parishioners (it is a Catholic school) to turn in our deposit and the lady who runs it stated that we would surely get one of the four remaining spots. However, they had more parishioners sign up than were expected and Emily was bumped, as they get first dibs. Of course, assuming that she was in at this school, I didn’t really pursue other options, especially since most of the other schools were at least three times more expensive than this one (I know, I’m cheap, I know!).

Although this doesn’t seem like a big deal, it was the “last straw,” so to speak, in coming back “home” from our vacation to a gross house and a lonely place and so far away from friends, family, and the familiar. As a result, I was, very maturely, storming around (shocking, I know) for a few days, wallowing in my self-pity. As we went to bed a few nights later Daniel asks me to tell him about what’s bugging me. So, of course, given the opportunity I just dump on him about how much I dislike our life here, and how I’m tired and lonely and frustrated and I used to be good at things and now all I do is a series of jobs that get undone or need redone within hours or moments from when I do them, which really seems quite pointless, and nobody appreciates it, and. . . .Well you get the gist.

I learned a very interesting and important lesson from this outburst. There is apparently nothing that works more effectively as a sedative for a man than an emotional female outburst. I’m pretty sure he was snoring by the time I actually got to the fifth sentence. (It’s all right now, Daniel; word on the street is that it is a normal male response ;})

Of course, then I was up all night fuming about that, as well as the rest. However, the next day I decided to pull myself together and move on, so I was looking up preschool curriculum ideas on-line so I could just teach Emily myself at home. As I saw what options there were I was getting more excited because there’s lots of fun stuff out there.

Emily walked in while I was looking things up and asked what I was doing. After I told her she said, “I don’t want you to be my preschool teacher.” I told her that there weren’t other options right now. To which she again responded, “But, I don’t want you to be my preschool teacher.” Then she left in a huff.

After a few minutes she came back in, quite worked up (I guess getting worked up while mulling things over is a family trait?) and again stated that she didn’t want me to be her preschool teacher. To which I asked who she did want to be her preschool teacher, because we don’t really have any options. She said, “I want Morgan to be my teacher.” Inside I’m actually thinking this is an awesome idea – she’s a really good teacher! But instead I said, “Morgan’s going to be at school all day, so what will we do all day while she’s gone if we don’t do preschool?” Emily just looked at me and commanded, “You just go and do your dishes.”

Then last week we were in the car and I wouldn’t let her come in somewhere with me and she got mad and we had the following conversation:

Emily yelling: “I’m not going to be a Mom because of you!”

Me: “That’s too bad, because I bet you would be a really good mom,”

Emily: “No I wouldn’t, because of you! You do the MEANEST things!”

Then there was a slight pause before she stated in a very grumpy tone, “but I’m still going to leave my kids at your house while I get my hair cut.”

Nice! I figured I would forget these darling little exchanges if I didn’t write them down, and now I can keep them in my arsenal and remind her of them when (if?) she has children of her own! Hah, motherhood is pretty fun after all!