Battle of the boys
I am back from a long but mostly fun vacation with my five year old son. He is now asleep in his room after a very full day at school. He read his first book, did addition, colored the flag of Thailand, got a huge hug from his teacher - and this was just the first day of Montessori kindergarten! I also signed him up for a free trial dance class for boys only. I was excited, too.
But after all the excitement, everyone - son and husband and myself - seemed to implode. Son was irritable and only wanted to sit in front of the computer; husband insisted on going out to eat, then drove aimlessly for an hour without ever stopping anywhere. I ended up making hotdogs and spaghetti with doctored up sauce, which hubby ended up not eating, choosing a tv dinner instead. Go figure. Son went to bed an hour earlier than usual.
Hubby was mad about the dance class; five hundred dollars for an entire year of classes was too much money, he said, even though I told him I would cover it. He shells out $10,000 in child support for one daughter, almost as much for another daughter (he sent her a check for $5,000 to cover her fall expenses) and more for kids to "work" for us on weekends as well as random checks to his oldest daughter. $500 doesn't seem that much in comparison.
Oh well. Dance classes for a boy don't seem that essential, I suppose. But why not? People wouldn't think twice about dance classes for their girls. And son loves to dance; he already goes contra dancing with us, and holds his own as a partner as well as most men. He love to jump and kick up his heels and loves to dance and move to rhythm. And this class is totally focused on boys - big movements, jumping, rolling, expression. Sounds perfect. At the very least it will help coordination for other sports. And who knows, maybe he'll like it enough to stick with it. And if not, no harm done.
Well, I should be telling this to my husband, I suppose, though I doubt I can convert him. I think the best I can do is change my work schedule around to take a break in the afternoon of dance class so I can pick up son, feed him a snack, and deposit him at dance class. Hopefully I can at least convince hubby to pick him up when I'm back in the office seeing patients.
Its funny, I had almost two weeks of time with son and didn't get tired of it. We ate out or made sandwiches in our hotel room, played most of the day, went to bed at the same time, and I got to read books while he watched movies. And I didn't get short tempered or stressed out. Back at home, I'm a wreck all evening after I pick son up at school. Son wants all my attention, but I need to pay attention to picking up the house (which is never clean enough for hubby) cooking dinner (which hubby may or may not want or eat), trying to pay attention to son, which is never enough attention. I am stressed out of my gourd. Why does this happen?
One problem I know I have is that I pick right up on hubby's foul moods, and when I get real stressed, I take them personally. He does the same thing with son. When son whines, I try to either ignore it, take a break outside, or eventually calm myself down to have a talk with son to figure out what the problem really is. Hubby tries to distract son, find cool things to look at in magazines, but that is only a temporary fix. Finally hubby hollars at son, storms down stairs and goes to bed. Tommorow will be a new, hopefully better, day. I'll be at work late, so if the two of them argue, I don't need to know about it. Work is hard sometimes, and has its own stresses, but just doesn't seem to wear me down like home does. Isn't that weird? You'd think it would be the other way around.
Well, no more whining from me tonight. I get to take son to school then see a whole bunch of new patients tomorrow. I like seeing new patients. I love my husband and my son. Maybe I just need to get better at juggling them all....
But after all the excitement, everyone - son and husband and myself - seemed to implode. Son was irritable and only wanted to sit in front of the computer; husband insisted on going out to eat, then drove aimlessly for an hour without ever stopping anywhere. I ended up making hotdogs and spaghetti with doctored up sauce, which hubby ended up not eating, choosing a tv dinner instead. Go figure. Son went to bed an hour earlier than usual.
Hubby was mad about the dance class; five hundred dollars for an entire year of classes was too much money, he said, even though I told him I would cover it. He shells out $10,000 in child support for one daughter, almost as much for another daughter (he sent her a check for $5,000 to cover her fall expenses) and more for kids to "work" for us on weekends as well as random checks to his oldest daughter. $500 doesn't seem that much in comparison.
Oh well. Dance classes for a boy don't seem that essential, I suppose. But why not? People wouldn't think twice about dance classes for their girls. And son loves to dance; he already goes contra dancing with us, and holds his own as a partner as well as most men. He love to jump and kick up his heels and loves to dance and move to rhythm. And this class is totally focused on boys - big movements, jumping, rolling, expression. Sounds perfect. At the very least it will help coordination for other sports. And who knows, maybe he'll like it enough to stick with it. And if not, no harm done.
Well, I should be telling this to my husband, I suppose, though I doubt I can convert him. I think the best I can do is change my work schedule around to take a break in the afternoon of dance class so I can pick up son, feed him a snack, and deposit him at dance class. Hopefully I can at least convince hubby to pick him up when I'm back in the office seeing patients.
Its funny, I had almost two weeks of time with son and didn't get tired of it. We ate out or made sandwiches in our hotel room, played most of the day, went to bed at the same time, and I got to read books while he watched movies. And I didn't get short tempered or stressed out. Back at home, I'm a wreck all evening after I pick son up at school. Son wants all my attention, but I need to pay attention to picking up the house (which is never clean enough for hubby) cooking dinner (which hubby may or may not want or eat), trying to pay attention to son, which is never enough attention. I am stressed out of my gourd. Why does this happen?
One problem I know I have is that I pick right up on hubby's foul moods, and when I get real stressed, I take them personally. He does the same thing with son. When son whines, I try to either ignore it, take a break outside, or eventually calm myself down to have a talk with son to figure out what the problem really is. Hubby tries to distract son, find cool things to look at in magazines, but that is only a temporary fix. Finally hubby hollars at son, storms down stairs and goes to bed. Tommorow will be a new, hopefully better, day. I'll be at work late, so if the two of them argue, I don't need to know about it. Work is hard sometimes, and has its own stresses, but just doesn't seem to wear me down like home does. Isn't that weird? You'd think it would be the other way around.
Well, no more whining from me tonight. I get to take son to school then see a whole bunch of new patients tomorrow. I like seeing new patients. I love my husband and my son. Maybe I just need to get better at juggling them all....
posted by HS at 9/06/2006 09:23:00 PM
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