Mondays are the Hardest

“I just want to scream. I want to cry.”

This morning was rough getting the kids ready to daycare. Mondays are the hardest. They always are.

Really, I should say it was the hardest on Mom, Dad and Harrison, four years old. Eleanor, who just turned one this past weekend, was happy a clam.

Harrison had a challenging morning.

After a rough Sunday evening and bedtime, we decided there would be no screen time this morning, something we indulge Harrison in too much.

He didn’t respond well to that.

Nor did he respond well to Mommy and Daddy’s insistence he wear weather-appropriate clothes. He’s insisted on still wearing long-sleeved shirts and pants, even as the temperatures have gotten warmer. With it expected to be close to 90 degrees today, we didn’t give him a choice in wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. We knew he’d be playing outside today, and didn’t want him to overheat.

I never use the word ‘whining’ in front of Harrison, but this morning he was whhhiiinnniiinnnggg. He threw a tantrum or two. He physically refused to move a few times. It was a struggle to get out the door.

Then the entire way to pre-school, through dropping Eleanor off at the little in-home daycare we send her to, and on to his pre-school a couple of miles away, he begged us to come back home so he could change into different clothes.

Me and Betsy did our best to make him feel heard and validated, but still he that he had no say in the matter.

He didn’t want to get out of the car. Betsy had to coax him out, and then stand with him a couple of minutes at the door, chatting with one of his teachers.

The teacher assured Betsy that other kids have had some difficulties this morning being dropped off. Mondays are the hardest – for both adults and kids.

“I just want to scream. I want to cry,” I said to Betsy as we pulled away.

The struggle of being a parent is so hard some days.

Still Becoming a Dad

It’s been over a year since I’ve blogged here.

Over a year since I’ve blogged anywhere, really.

I’ve been fine, if perhaps only pandemic fine. But I’ve found myself very much wanting to get back into regular writing that isn’t on social media.

I feel rusty. These first few (dozen) posts will probably be a bit rough.

But here we go.

Since I’ve last written here, Betsy and I have welcomed another child into the world.

Eleanor. She just turned one year old yesterday.

Harrison is four and a half.

I love watching him grow up every day.

I feel like I fail him every day, but am trying to get better.

Thanks for coming along with me, Dear Reader, and I re-find my writing voice.