Mr. Most Improved Is Not So Improved

Recently my son was awarded "Most Improved" in his kindergarten class.  I was so proud of him.  His teacher indicated that he was doing so well, and his behavior had gotten so much better. 

Being a proud mom, I didn't give the comment "his behavior has gotten better" much thought.  I'll admit, I did feel a bit anxious about the title of "Most Improved" because I am a hopeless perfectionist.  As such, improvement implies less than perfect to begin with.  Yes, I know.  No one is perfect.  I'm not perfect.  My kids are not perfect.  Still.  That is the goal.

Without going too far off into my ADD La-La-Land, today I got a note from his teacher.  She wants to meet with us.  About my son.  And his behavior.  While it has improved in her class, it is far from stellar outside of class.  To be more specific, he throws tantrums at lunch, in the gym, while in art class...UGGGHH!  Apparently, my adorable little boy acts like a certified B.R.A.T. in front of other people.

*insert horrified gasp and that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach*

I try so hard to be a good mother, and still my worst fears are materializing. 
When things don't go E's way or he doesn't get what he wants, he breaks into complete meltdown hysterics.  My kid is one of those high-maintenance, tantrum-throwing, whiney butts that I spent my single years avoiding.        

I can remember sitting in a restaurant and thinking God I wish those people would shut that kid up!  And I cannot believe that woman lets her kid act that way in public!  I even thought there's nothing wrong with him that a good ass-whooping can't cure!

I'm embarrassed.  I feel like a failure.  I want to cry.  Kindergarten is supposed to be one of his "good" years.  If he's acting crazy now, can you imagine what he'll be like by 7th grade?!?!

Here I am, a former smoker, drinker, and full-blown party girl who gave it all up to get married and have kids.  I stopped all destructive behaviors for fear that my children would be exposed to them.  I made a complete 360 for the sake of my family; yet, it doesn't even freaking matter. 

My kid acts no different from his classmate, a former crack baby who still wears Pull-Ups.  All my theories about the importance of good role models flew out the window today.  It's very likely that my child is no more likely to be successful and well-adjusted than the kid whose mom is in jail for cooking meth.

Lord, I need an intervention before I blow my paycheck on a carton of cigarettes, a case of Grey Goose Vodka, and a one-way ticket to Vegas!   

Let This Be a Lesson in Karma

So as you may have read, I've been venting away recently about my bad neighbor and her rude kid.  Glad you enjoyed the entertainment.  Anything for a laugh, right?

Dear God,
It's me LB.  Can I please take back all that I said about the neighbor's daughter?  I may have been just a bit hasty in my assessment.  I'm sure she's a good kid with impeccable manners who just experienced a momentary lapse in judgement.  In the future, I will refrain from running so quickly to the blogosphere to vent my frustrations to 50 gazillion people (I can dream, can't I??)  Thank you so much for your time and patience. 
Sincerely,
 the Mother of a REAL demon child

Let the bashing begin.  I deserve it.  I should know better than to say something bad about someone else's kid.  It's one of the cardinal rules of motherhood. 

Rule #1:  Don't EVER pass judgement on another mother's parenting based on her child's bad behavior.

Rule #2:  NEVER, EVER say anything along the lines of "My kid will never do that!" or "My kid knows better than to act like that."

Sunday afternoon, I took my daughter with me to the fabric store to buy the necessary materials for her Olivia costume.  This year for Halloween, she wants to be Olivia, the little pig from Nickelodeon.  Unfortunately, the Costume Making Company doesn't really make an Olivia costume.  Thus the reason for the trip to the fabric store.

AnyImustbefreakin'crazy, off we went to the fabric store.  One kid and mom.  Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.  While we were there, my daughter found some purple sparkly material that she had to have.  "Ok," I said.  "If you are good, I'll buy you some sparkly purple material."

That's when she proceeded to interrogate an older lady behind us about the contents of her purse.  She even went so far as to grab at the zipper of the woman's purse.  As you might imagine, the old lady started freaking out.  She probably thought it was some purse-snatching scam where mom gets her kid to steal purses from unsuspecting elderly folks.

After much discussion about how wrong it is to grab someone's purse and demand to the see contents inside, my daughter then started grabbing at mine.  She kept insisting that I let her dig in it.  All the while I'm standing in line with 400 bolts of fabric, spools of thread, and miscellaneous notions.  Finally, I told her she would not get the purple sparkly stuff if she didn't stop.  She didn't stop.

"No purple sparkly for you, Missy!" 

That's when all hell broke loose.  My daughter started a full-blown, fit-for-the-movies temper tantrum complete with blood curdling screams.  She grabbed the material and tried to make a run for it.  I grabbed the fabric, but she continued to run through the store screaming.  Another older lady tried to stop her on the satin aisle, but G just pushed her out of the way. 

Since I'd already had the fabric cut, I was at the mercy of the 25 mile long line being serviced by Methuselah herself.  I did manage to catch G and get in said line, but the antics did not stop there.  While holding her in the line, she threw herself on the floor while screaming.  She couldn't break my hold, though, so she kicked her flip flops off and across the room nearly hitting the other patrons.

This went on for what seemed like 72 hours straight until finally, thank you, Jesus, some nice lady offered her place next in line.  When I finally got G in the car, she proceeded to kick and scream and remove her seatbelt all the way home.  I don't think I have ever been so mad in my entire life.  I was shaking and on the verge of tears. 

All for a freakin' piece of purple sparkly fabric!!!!