tough firsts

Some firsts we celebrate and some we wish would never come.  When the latter come two at a time, a mama might just lose her mind!!
We planned a last-minute playdate today with my friend Jess and her son Wyatt.  It was also a fundraiser day at Ben's school so I asked our guests if they'd be ok with pizza lunch that would benefit Ben's school.  Both the Dr. and the PTA kept me longer than expected that morning and our friends arrived early and were already waiting when I got home with the pizza and a car full of groceries I hadn't had time to drop off earlier.

I was also planning on having another 45 mins to sweep the floor and do a final check of the back yard for "pup presents."  We'd been dog-sitting and our visitor enjoyed depositing right as the grass began and right in the path to the playset.  So, at this point our recipe for disaster is perfectly complete.  Before I even have all the groceries brought in, our friend has stepped in the poop and tracked it all over the patio, deck and thankfully only made it a couple steps inside.  I felt absolutely horrible but worked feverishly to clean it up to avoid further spreading while also being concerned about getting lunch on the table for my guests and both hungry kiddos.  I showed Wyatt Ben's cool cement mixer and on my next trip past, I heard Ben utter, "No. that's mine. I want it."  uuuuuuuuuurch! screamed my brakes as I abruptly halted and pulled Ben aside to explain that we share our toys and that this was not kind.  I know ALL kids say this and go through this phase but it was a first for Ben and really threw me.  Had the rest of the chaos not been present, I may have taken it more in stride, but it just sent my stress through the roof.  
I can't even recall whether I was cleaning or taking food out or even whether it was before or after everyone else had eaten, but I walked past again and saw Ben attempt to kick Wyatt.  It was a weak attempt at best but boy oh boy was that the last straw.  I threw down whatever was in my hands and grabbed Ben by the arm and drug him up the stairs.  I'm still not certain where my physical strength in those moments came from and I am far from proud of my un-calm reaction.  By the time we got inside Ben was crying and I was somehow able to firmly but calmly explain that we never, never, never kick or hit our friends.  Ben clearly understood and felt horrible for what he had done and for disappointing me.  He quickly apologized to Wyatt and somehow the afternoon was saved and things improved quickly and vastly.

*Side note: the last time Ben had seen Wyatt was at Wyatt's birthday party when Wyatt was totally enthralled with another older friend.  It had been nearly 6 months but Ben still talked weekly about how Wyatt wouldn't talk to or play with him.  Ben had also talked about this other friend pushing and hitting but as they were hidden in tubes and tunnels, I hadn't witnessed anything.  


Ben had acted funny as soon as Wyatt arrived and I should have been more aware of his behavior and quicker to connect the dots.  After chatting with Jess about this other friend and the birthday party, it all became clear and also allowed me to explain to Ben that Wyatt would enjoy him most for being kind and playing and that acting out physically was not the way to get Wyatt's attention.  After thirty plus years on this earth, I know well that life hands you days like these where more goes wrong than you could begin to imagine.  All of it in less than an hour nearly pushed me over the edge.  I was literally telling myself to "breathe. breathe. calm down. don't freak out." over and over in my head. 

 Just a few hours later I had a really clean floor, a sparkling deck, a disinfected patio and a little man who had learned some REALLY big lessons all at once. Oh, and a beer.  I also had a beer,.... or two. ;)

Update:
Thankfully there has been only kindness to friends since and we've had successful playdates without "mine" being uttered.