I had a hard morning. We went to the base playgroup for the first time. Jonas didn’t do well. He spent most of the time taking a tantrum. He didn’t want to share at all. He didn’t even want the kids to come near him. One little boy tried to walk up to him and Jonas tried to hit him just for looking at him! We spent a lot of the time talking about not hitting in the hall. He seemed to mellow out towards the end; he played more like a gentleman, sharing and inviting the other children into his space. Hopefully next week will improve also.

The worst thing about the playgroup wasn’t my son’s behavior. It was the looks from some of the other parents. There are two in particular that I wish didn’t go to this group. Sadly, they go to church with us. These women are good people, but they have no idea how much the labels they put on my son and the attitude of superiority that I feel from them hurts. They both have fairly easy little girls. They make an error in judgement that many parents make. They think that because their child’s temperament is very manageable it means that they have done something right. The truth is, they just got lucky.

One mother started telling me how impossible Jonas was to control in the church nursery. Then asks me if he has always been so explosive, aggressive and difficult, or if it just from moving a lot. I explain to her that this is his temperament. He came this way. That it is not wrong to be like Jonas is. He is not bad- he is more. He is more tenacious, more persistent, more energetic than other children. He is full of vim and vigor. He is a zesty kid who lives his life with gusto. When he is sad, he sobs, when he is happy his entire being is happy. When he is angry he is in absolute furor. It is not WRONG. It is who he is. Of course he needs to learn some restraint and self control. He is two, and I am trying. Their negative labels and holier than thou attitudes only hurt me and hinder his progress.

After playgroup we went to a WIC appointment in the Family Support Center. Yes, we make so little money that we qualify for government assistance. I do not feel badly for taking it. I figure that since my husband works for the United States Air Force, and they do not see fit to pay him enough to keep his family in a higher class of living, I am more than entitled to whatever government aide is available.

Jonas was pretty busy there. He didn’t want to sit in the hall and wait for the WIC lady (who was running late). He wanted to run all over, climb on the tables and jump off. Maggie was hungry and needed to eat, so I ended up feeding her while chasing Jonas. It was quite the trick. Finally we get to go to our appointment. Jonas tried to grab everything off of the woman’s desk and refused to stay in the room. The woman refused to shut the door and kept getting exasperated when Jonas would shut it himself. I was busy trying to soothe a fussy, gassy baby. The lady finally said to me, “He’s quite the little pill,” as if I haven’t realized how much of a struggle it is to be trying to run the necessary errands when Jonas is having a bad day.

I finally got my stuff together. The lady was literally pushing us out the door. I had tears in my eyes and just looked at her. This woman was at her wits end after eight minutes. “Try doing this 24/7.” I said as I walked out, trying very hard to not cry.

Another woman came up to me in the hall and asked how old my baby was. Jonas ran the opposite direction. I barely managed to say, “seven weeks,” before the tears started to roll down my cheeks.

This was a woman with compassion. She just quietly said, “how can I help, what do you need.”

I responded in all honesty, “I need a break.” So she led me to another person’s office, a person who saw my unruly child and was willing to shut the door to help me contain him. He signed me up for a base program designed to give parents a break once a month. Then he said, “that’s not going to help you much now, is it?” He then gave me a check for eight hours of free childcare to use however was best for my family.

Someday, when my children are older and I do not have the demands of toddlerhood on my shoulders I hope I run into a young mother like myself and I hope that when I see her I can quietly say, “How can I help. What do you need,” and then be of service.