It took us a while to recover from vacation. Apart from the usual work stuff, we had some residual behavior hiccups with Stella. I was honestly afraid of what this week would hold at school and at home. Will and I seriously wondered – as we had at the beach – whether or not the trip had even been worth it.
I shouldn’t bitch. I know there are loads of people who would love a week at the beach even with a howling, shrieking 3 year old. There were good moments. Don’t get me wrong.
In addition to the nearly constant hollering, this trip will be remembered for the proclamation that “M is for Mommy and French fries (thank you, golden arches).” This was the trip where Stella assaulted a pregnant woman at one such McDonald’s, rubbing her belly and saying “hey” to the baby (I had no clue she was even aware of such things since she ignored my gut when Felix was still in there). This was the trip when the Capri Sun juice pouch went flying off the balcony and we feared that iPhones, Hello Kitties, mermaid Barbies, or children would follow.
The first couple of days back, there was still some residual screaming and tantruming. I was kind of braced for the worst Monday, figuring with both school and speech therapy, we might be in for a long, live day. While there were a few hiccups in the morning and during the nighttime wind-down, all in all it went well.
When I picked Stella up from school yesterday, Ms. T informed me that Stella had had the best day at school ever. I almost got teary, I swear. She was given a “job” for the day as class helper, did well, and was really chummy with another little girl in her class. There was much hugging and singing. Other than a scuffle after school when I made her take her own shoes and socks off, she was a model citizen. She ate well, played somewhat quietly (she is only 3, for crying out loud), and told me “good night, Mommy.” That may not sound significant, but I either get no parting words from her at all at night or maybe an echo of “good night.”
This morning, while still up at 5:00, there was not a single bellow, shout, shriek, or moan. I woke Will up a few minutes early to just enjoy the normalcy for a while. Stella was painting and Felix was eating one of those weird rice treats that look like a cuttlefish bone you’d give a parrot. Everyone was happy, content.
Days like yesterday and mornings like this morning make me wonder if we have a problem, why we’re in therapy, who was that monster at the beach with us last week. I get excited and feel hopeful that we’ve turned some kind of corner, that maybe something in her brain has clicked/is clicking and that we’re ok now.
So when is the next vacation?
I’m totally kidding.