Delizza: take 6 and don't call me in the morning

It was a REALLY long morning.

Kid 1 came home last night, moped around, and finally said "the babysitter slapped me in the face. " Much sobbing and drama ensued. My initial reaction was "...and were you talking back fresh at the time? I'll tell her I don't want her to slap you. We've never discussed the topic."

But overnight that festered into "I can't allow someone to raise a hand to my child. My sister doesn't even hit/spank my children. I don't even spank my kids " with much anxiety for me, since I. Hate. Confrontations.

So I called this morning and tried to ask diplomatically, my child says that you slapped yesterday, and I need to talk to you about that. She became semi-hysterical, and denied vigorously, and all sorts of emotion came pouring out on all sides. Because, Kid has never lied to me, not about something like that. And don't you have to believe your kid even when the adult is saying "Nuh uh" ?? Someone else got brought into it (because they were all at that person's home, and that person swears they saw no sign of anything happening... ) and it was just total chaos. Both of my phones ringing like crazy, my sister trying to get Kid to tell her what reeeeeeeeally happened, I was trying to get to a pediatrician's appointment that when I arrived for I found had somehow gotten canceled by someone (not me!!)

Balls, said the Queen. If I had 'em, I'd be king....


So how do you know when your kid is lying? As far as Mr. C and I know at this point, maybe the sitter lightly tapped Kid on the face to get full attention and be firm in the point she was making. Maybe my kid is afraid to say "well, it wasn't a SLAP but...." I've tried to give the way to wriggle out several times.

I have 8 more work days until school starts. Mr. C is going to go there tomorrow, with the kids, and sit Kid and Sitter down and try to talk it through, because we asked Kid and Kid is willing to go back, but afraid of getting chewed out the second we leave.

Disaster recover plan A is to beg my in-laws, who are nearly 80, to watch the kids for those 8 days. Plan B involves patching together a mishmash of our usual teenage babysitters.

The only thing that saved the day from being 100% train wreck was the friend who gave me a shoulder to cry on over lunch (because by noon I was totally irrational and emotionally strung out about the entire thing) and somehow convinced me that I am not The Very Worst Mommy Ever and This Will Work Out.

I have a pounding headache, and a million things to do. So, naturally, I'm blogging. Later, the boxes of wine and pastries will come out.