I'm stressed and I'm strained and I am, honestly, not dealing very well inside.
I baby sit a kid. A kid who comes to me with issues. Issues beyond my control. Issues that affect me. And my children. Issues that I was sure, if I could just keep the child's life constant, here, in my house, we could work things out. Teach right and wrong. Consequence and reward. Kindness and respect.
Four and a half weeks in, things are no better then day one. And worse, my children are starting to pick up on this poor behavior.
There are 4 more weeks until school starts. But I'm not sure we're going to make it until that point.
Every morning, I wake with a feeling of foreboding. Every day, I wish to tell the parent I can't do this anymore. Every night, I fall asleep with the regret of not speaking up.
I also feel immense guilt. I feel like I'm giving up on a child. And that thought tears me apart. Tears my heart to shreds.
The kid needs stability. Structure. And someone to guide the way.
Its hard. The kid seems to lack sympathy and empathy, caring what is right and wrong and whose feelings are hurt. The kid pushes boundaries, ignores requests and breaks all the rules, and a lot of the toys.
The kid lacks discipline but is full of entitlement. Speaking with the parent, its obviously a norm in their house, though probably exasperated by the recent upheavals they have faced.
But when the kid is good, the kid shines. Climbs in my lap, longing for attention. Showers kisses, petting my arms and face. Eager to be doted upon, eager to please.
That's when my heart aches. The bad times are more frequent then the good. But the good times are great.
And I'm at a complete loss as to what to do. How to cope. How to move forward.
Four more weeks. A blink of an eye. One can hope, right?