My frustrations

When I finally got a minute to sit down in front of a computer, I think I just need to pour out some of my thoughts. Even though I have been busy doing this and that ever since I stepped into the lab, my minds had never been off my kids.

I know there are times for every mom to have the feeling that you just wish you could have done better, but you simply could not, I guess this is one of those times for me.

The weather is cold, bitterly cold. However, Peter, as he is always, has been so stubborn, in the respect of not wearing too much inside the coat, no hat or mittens when he's with his family. So, when we left home, we could take him from the back door, which is only a couple of yards from the pre-warmed car; but when we got to school, daddy is not there, and mommy is the only one, who needs to carry two bags, handling another kid, and the car, plus our stubborn boy. No, no hat, no mitts, but needs to be held, not a single second standing on the ground. It was so cold out there! Even though I tried all my best to do everything well planned, as fast as I could, still, Peter was feeling cold enough and he began to yell and whine. I took him and those bags, RAN into the building, but unfortunately, he started, and it will take some time for him to calm down. So all the whinings, resulted in all my frustrations.

I do not know how those parents with two kids handling the pick-ups and drop-offs, and when I began to think about that, I realized that either both parents are able to be there, or it were dads that doing the job. But I know I can not complain about this--hubby has a long drive to work, and if only he could do it with me, he would have done it. Then I began to feel bad for Yaya too, you know some of her classmates are still held by their parents from time to time at dropoffs and pickups, but Yaya has never had that honor. She has become so good to go across the parking lot all by herself, and she knows how to watch for cars and open the door to the building. Even though there are occasions when she is either wild running to the lawn in front of the parking lot and chasing her friends or she is whining, complaining at the end of the day, I completely accept it as being very reasonable, as she is just a 4-year-old kid, how many four years olds can be good like her?

Maybe I should somehow force hat and mitts on Peter, which, I am sure also makes him cry like hell. I don't know, I just don't know how I could make it work better for the kids, and for me.