Mommy Dearest

So, I'm trying not to cry. That's a challenge. I cry at commercials. And weddings. And funerals. And movies. And the opening of a can of soup. I'm a crier. But the point today is that I just left my beautiful, cuddly son at daycare. And, like his mother, he was crying. Actually, he was screaming. Like he was in the third circle of Dante's Inferno. Let me tell you, this was not a good feeling. He put a death grip on me as I kissed him goodbye and I had to pry his little hand from my blouse. I offered to stay with him for a while. In fact, I had planned to stay with him to help him get comfortable. But the teacher told me that the sooner I left, the better. I don't feel that silly, working mother guilt that women keep describing because I know that I have to continue to do what I need to do. (And because fathers are rarely subject to that guilt, either externally or internally). But leaving him crying and afraid and missing me feels exceptionally crappy.

This moment comes on the heels of another less than stellar parenting moment. Yesterday was bike day and I lugged my 2 year old daughter's scooter--the kind you push with your feet--into her classroom. All of the children were lined up on their bikes to go outside. Then I realize that all of the other children have tricycles with pedals. My daughter scoots down the hall with her class, but she's the only one pushing with her feet. She has two bikes with pedals at home, but she doesn't know how to ride them alone because the last time we tried her legs were too short. And because it's hot as all get out and we haven't been spending much time outdoors. So, ultimately, I've been holding her back. I sent her to school with this little baby toy and she should have been on a big kid bike. What's wrong with me?! I haven't been reading all the books like I should have so that I would know her developmental stage. AND last week I forgot to bring her ball for ball day.

Are these the things that will send my children to therapy?