To say that things didn't go as planned, is a huge understatement. I am not sure when the nightmare started but I have a feeling that when we were standing in line waiting to pick up the school supplies we ordered through the school, I probably should've gotten a clue. Sam had already started a combo whining/crying over needing to wash her hands from the popsicle she just ate. It was so unlike me, but I didn't even have my supplies with me and was lacking the big thing of wet wipes I always carry. I honestly thought for one hour we would be okay sans diaper bag. While I was checking out every single parent in the gymnasium looking for anyone with a baby, Sam now escalated her demand for clean hands by also sitting on the floor, taking off her shoes and refusing to get up. She was causing quite the scene, but I refused to give in and lose our place in line. It was moving plenty fast enough and I knew in a matter of moments we would be out of there and could locate a bathroom. Fortunately for me, Sam doesn't like being left behind and scooted her screaming 3 year old self to the front of the line as Ian and I moved up. And, another fortunate occurrence came when a woman walked in pushing a baby in a stroller. I knew she had to have wipes. She didn't speak a lick of English, but her daughter translated what I needed and this made Sam a happy camper...at least temporarily.
We got our big box of school supplies and made our way to Ian's new classroom. How exciting! Upon entering the room, I noticed the teacher right away and figured we should meet her while there was no line and only one mom/son currently talking to her. As we are patiently waiting for our turn, Sam decides she has had enough and kicks it in high gear letting me know she wants to get out of there PRONTO! She starts saying she needs to go to the bathroom, she needs to go home, she is hungry, she is thirsty, she is tired, she needs a nap, SHE DOESN'T WANT TO MEET IAN'S TEACHER!!!!!! She is so revved up and in the moment of throwing the biggest meltdown ever, that Sam is now incoherent and not making much sense of anything.
I do my best to ignore her while I try to give Ian my attention who is now getting to meet the teacher - I should mention this is after a mom cut in front of me in line and another mother stood up for me when she saw the situation I had going on. Come 'on people, work with me!! Really, you need to cut in front of me!?!?!?
We get as far as Mrs. Shackleford asking Ian if he went there last year, to which Ian replied, "No." I am still not sure what that was about, but I knew we needed to get out of there fast. Sam is in full blown screaming/crying, on the ground laying there, taking off her pants. She is out of control and won't let me hold her or pick her up. She won't listen to anything I am saying and its best to get home asap.
I try my best to get her to calm down and decide maybe if we get to a bathroom, we will be fine. Of course, I have no idea where the closest bathroom is and I run into my friend Kelly who helps me find one. At that moment, the bathroom felt like it was a mile away down the hall. I gave up looking for the women's restroom and jumped into this closet of a restroom that said "Staff Only" on the door. Sam wanted nothing to do with being in there and ran back out into the crowded hallway.
Oh yeah, this whole time, the hallway and every classroom is FILLED with parents and kids. Lots of fun, let me tell you. And the only way to get from point A to point B with Miss Cranky Pants is by me holding her -sometimes sideways/upside down/ or by one leg as she continues to scream at the top of her lungs and fight me with everything she's got to put her down. Oh yeah, this is exactly how I envisioned Ian's open house going down.
I am ready to leave. I am ready to put Sam down and run far, far away and hope that a mom who is better handling her takes her home. I tell Ian we need to go back to his room, pick up his big box of supplies and leave. I feel so bad for him and the crappy open house experience he had because of his sister.
When we get back to the classroom, I put Sam down and turn to talk to the teacher (interrupting who she is currently speaking with) and ask her one quick question so that we can get out of there once for and all. Sam is STILL SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS and has now taken her pull-up off. She is nudie kazudie from the waist down - no pull-up, no pants, no shoes. Yeah, we look like we raise her in a trailer park and I am ready for the worst mother award of the year to be handed to me on the spot. While trying to hear the teacher (who sounds like she is talking in slow motion...hello!?!? I need to get out of here NOW, can't you talk any faster!?!?), Sam is running back and forth in the room, out in the hallway, all over the place like a deranged, psycho nut. She is completely incoherent and everyone in the room and out in the hallway has taken to stop and stare at this freak show we have going on. One guy looked at me and said, "Two years old, huh?" No, buddy, she is 3. And may I suggest you don't get in her way.
Finally, poor Ian who hasn't had any chance to walk around his new room, correct the teacher who thinks he never went there last year and is now being asked to juggle the big box of school supplies tags along behind me as I do my best to hold Sam, her clothing, her shoes and make our way through the crowds to get to the car as fast as possible. Again, Kelly came to my rescue, took the box from Ian and helped escort us to the car.
Once I threw Sam in the car, I closed the door and stood outside the car literally shaking, with tears in my eyes over having lived through that last 20 minutes. A few moms who know me from Ian being in their kids' kindergarten class last year tried to sympathetically say, "we've been there too before" as we whizzed by them making our way to the car.
My heart brakes for Ian and how what should have been a fun, exciting moment in his life became a memory of his sister causing a ridiculous scene. A meltdown so big and momentous that I believe it could be aptly included in the Guinness Book of World Records for its intensity, loudness, humiliation/embarrassment factor, and of course, complete and utter nonsense.
Next year I will work harder on getting a sitter.
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