Dear Boys,
Clearly you need some clarification about what "nap time" and "quiet time" mean. I know this because everything you are doing is the exact opposite of what you are supposed to be doing.
Let me elucidate.
"Nap time" means sleeping. It does not mean jumping, singing, banging blocks together, faux crying or walking out of the room every 5 minutes to tell me you love me. I love you, too, but I will feel that love much more heartily if you STAY IN YOUR ROOM. "Sleeping" means you lie down on your bed and you close your eyes and you stay there for an extended period of time. You do not sing, you do not play with your toys, you do not throw books all over the floor and "ice skate" on them. Sleeping requires stillness, so when you get up after 30 seconds and tell me you can't sleep, THAT is why you can't sleep. STOP. MOVING.
If you truly, actually, sincerely try to sleep (remember: that means NOT MOVING) and cannot fall asleep, then it is still quiet time. Does that mean you should jump on your bed and make siren sounds? No, it does not. Does it mean you should pretend to have to pee or poop (or both!) once every 15 minutes and inform me of your attempts? No, it does not. Does that mean you should come out of your room repeatedly and ask for new toys? NO. IT. DOES. NOT.
"Quiet time" means that you must be quiet. As in, not noisy. As in, a lack of sound. As in, SSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Stop yelling, stop singing loudly, stop practicing gymnastics on your bed. Just quietly read your books, or quietly play with the toys in your room. Twiddle your thumbs. I don't actually care. Just do it quietly. That is all I ask.
Quiet time is not the time to decide that you HAVE to have the giraffe you gave to your brother a year ago. I'm sorry you miss him. It's been a year. It's time to move on.
Quiet time is not the time to decide that, in spite of the mass quantities of milk and water you downed at lunchtime, you are parched. Because you are not. So quit it.
Quiet time is the time for quiet. Not necessarily because you need it- although, trust me, you do- but because without a brief moment of quiet in an otherwise "Mom, mommy, mom, MOOOOOM!" filled day, I will lose my mind. That's right, sweetie, this isn't about you.
Mommy needs this time to rebuild the energy it takes to feed and wipe and chase and feed and calm and wipe and entertain and wash and help two boys under five. You are tiny energy vampires, and without the time to recharge, I can't play trucks with you the way you like. If I don't have quiet time to eat my own lunch at 2pm, I don't eat and then I am cranky. If I don't have nap time to load the dishwasher and answer emails and attempt to breathe for 30 seconds, I have a hard time keeping my cool when you ignore my instructions for the seven bazillionth time.
Mommy needs nap time- or at least quiet time- so that I can be a better Mommy. It will help us all, my little squishies. So, please. Stay in your room. Stop coming out and asking asinine questions. Stop flying around your room like a broken toy airplane. Stop pretending to cry. Stop making those ear-splitting noises. Just. Stay. Quiet. Please. And thank you.
All my love,
xoxo Mama
* * *
p.s. If you missed my latest post over at Rattle and Pen, you can read it here.
Showing posts with label tantrums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tantrums. Show all posts
Monday, December 2, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
And This Is Why I Can't Keep Up With the Laundry
Here was my morning:
Me: Putting laundry in washing machine.
Little One: Taking laundry out of washing machine.
Me: Putting laundry in washing machine.
Little One: Taking laundry out of washing machine.
Me: Putting laundry in washing machine.
Little One: Taking laundry out of washing machine.
Me: Putting laundry in washing machine.
Little One: Taking laundry out of washing machine.
Me: Putting laundry in washing machine.
Little One: Taking laundry out of washing machine.
Me: Picking the Little One up and placing him outside the laundry room.
Little One: "WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!"
Me: Continue putting laundry in the washing machine.
Little One: Sneaking back into the laundry room to continue pulling laundry out of the washing machine.
Me: Removing the Little One from laundry room again.
Little One: "WWWWAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Me: Turning washing machine on and adjusting controls according to desired washing result.
Little One: Sneaking back into the laundry room and pushing ALL OF THE BUTTONS so washing machine is now nowhere near desired washing result.
Me: Removing Little One's hands and resetting controls according to desired washing result.
Little One: Pushing all of the buttons again.
Me: Removing Little One's hands and resetting controls according to desired washing result.
Little One: Pushing all of the buttons again.
Me: Removing Little One's hands and resetting controls according to desired washing result.
Little One: Pushing all of the buttons again.
Me: Removing Little One from the laundry room again and placing laundry baskets in his way.
Little One: Throwing laundry baskets, and clean laundry therein, all over the hall whilst slamming adjacent bathroom door and yelling, "WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Me: Glaring.
Little One: "WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"
Me: Setting dryer according to desired drying results.
Little One: Climbing over laundry baskets and strewn laundry to dryer where he can commence pushing all of the buttons so dryer is now nowhere near desired drying result.
Me: Staring at Little One. "No." Removing Little One from laundry room.
Little One: "WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
Me: Setting dryer again according to desired drying results.
Little One: Pushing all of the buttons again so dryer is nowhere near desired drying result.
Me: Setting dryer according to desired drying results and wondering why the "Lock Controls" button DOES NOT ACTUALLY LOCK ANYTHING AT ALL WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL.
Little One: Pushing all of the buttons again so dryer is nowhere near desired drying result.
Me: Pushing start because who cares about the desired drying results kill me now oh my god.
Little One: "WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Me: Walking away and shaking head. Contemplating noon drink.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Clarification
Dear Little One,
I feel there are a few things I need to clarify with you. Please listen closely:
* Making something fly through the air does not make it a ball. Please stop saying, "Ball!" and then throwing things.
Example: That little metal truck you just hucked across the table? Not a ball. The bit of sandwich you called a ball and then threw at lunch? Also not a ball.
* Screeching like a psychotic monkey will not get you what you want.
Example: When I go to change your diaper and you twist and scream that horrid scream and throw things (which are still not balls), I still have to change your diaper. I win.
* Calling it a button does not mean you have to push it over and over and over again.
Example: Your bits are your bits, so... I'm not trying to be bossy and I definitely want you to enjoy... things... but we do have to get things done and... there's a time and place for.... We'll talk about this when you're older. Nevermind.
* Trying to twist out of my arms while I'm carrying you somewhere you don't want to go isn't going to hurt anyone but you.
Example: All of the times you do this. Quit doing this.
* Refusing to eat will not make me suddenly decide to feed you nothing but cookies and milk.
Example: See the part about only hurting yourself. And the part about me winning.
* While that mischievous grin of yours is killer and makes me smile every. single. time... it does not give you free reign for naughtiness.
Example: Flashing that smile at me before you pitch your breakfast or smash the metal car into the wooden table does not excuse it. You're still in trouble. So just stop. Oh, stop. Yeah, it's cute- stop. Ohmygod, I totally love you.
And, actually, while we're at it....
Dear Big One,
You clearly need some clarification on a few things as well. Listen up, big fella.
* Repeating something a quadrabillion times in a progressively more irritating voice is not likely to make it happen.
Example: Hollering from your bed at nap time, "Mommy, I need the door a little bit closed!" (meaning open) over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...
*Just because you say, "Excuse me," doesn't necessarily mean you're excused. Hollering over your parents as we're attempting to talk in the five seconds we have to figure out dinner is not going to help anyone. And yelling, "Excuse me," kinda cancels out the polite, there buddy. See previous bullet. And just hold on a second.
*Nap time really isn't for you. It's for me. So it's not optional. You do not have to sleep, but you do have to stay in your room without yelling for a full hour at least. (Note: that does not mean you get to start yelling after the first hour. I merely require one hour for sanity. More will benefit all of us.)
Example: Today when I put you down for nap, you solemnly swore that you would lie down and stay quiet. As soon as I left the room you bounced up and down and yelled my name for 17 different things that would mean I needed to come to the room and/or get you out of bed. "I have to pee!" "I have to poop!" "I need a drink!" "What was that sound?!?" "I need my hippo!" (which is now across the room where I threw it so you'd have to come and retrieve it.) "I'm hungry!" "Can I read a book?" "I miss you." All of that is infuriating. Please quit it.
*Saying you "need a break" right after you've done something that you know has earned you a time out will not get you out of time out. Nice try though.
Example: The other day when you pushed your brother over out of nowhere and then ran as fast as your legs would carry you to the corner of the kitchen yelling, "I need a break!!!" Nope. Still get a time out.
*Cracking up in the middle of your tantrum, while simultaneously amusing and exasperating, will still not get you out of whatever I'm asking you to do.
Example: Yesterday when I asked you to go potty and get your shoes on before we had to leave to pick up Daddy, and you screamed and yelled and threw yourself to the ground... and then started laughing like a little lunatic... you still had to go potty and get your shoes on. I believe this falls under the "I win" category. But that transition directly into mania from fury was pretty impressive, Squishman.
*Being gentle and kind and loving with your brother will always get you 4,271 points with Daddy and me. And your brother. Keep it up.
Example: Today, when we got home from dropping Daddy off at school, you very sweetly and gently helped your brother take off his jacket and shoes. Of your own accord. It was amazing. I love you.
I feel there are a few things I need to clarify with you. Please listen closely:
* Making something fly through the air does not make it a ball. Please stop saying, "Ball!" and then throwing things.
Example: That little metal truck you just hucked across the table? Not a ball. The bit of sandwich you called a ball and then threw at lunch? Also not a ball.
* Screeching like a psychotic monkey will not get you what you want.
Example: When I go to change your diaper and you twist and scream that horrid scream and throw things (which are still not balls), I still have to change your diaper. I win.
* Calling it a button does not mean you have to push it over and over and over again.
Example: Your bits are your bits, so... I'm not trying to be bossy and I definitely want you to enjoy... things... but we do have to get things done and... there's a time and place for.... We'll talk about this when you're older. Nevermind.
* Trying to twist out of my arms while I'm carrying you somewhere you don't want to go isn't going to hurt anyone but you.
Example: All of the times you do this. Quit doing this.
* Refusing to eat will not make me suddenly decide to feed you nothing but cookies and milk.
Example: See the part about only hurting yourself. And the part about me winning.
* While that mischievous grin of yours is killer and makes me smile every. single. time... it does not give you free reign for naughtiness.
Example: Flashing that smile at me before you pitch your breakfast or smash the metal car into the wooden table does not excuse it. You're still in trouble. So just stop. Oh, stop. Yeah, it's cute- stop. Ohmygod, I totally love you.
And, actually, while we're at it....
Dear Big One,
You clearly need some clarification on a few things as well. Listen up, big fella.
* Repeating something a quadrabillion times in a progressively more irritating voice is not likely to make it happen.
Example: Hollering from your bed at nap time, "Mommy, I need the door a little bit closed!" (meaning open) over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...
*Just because you say, "Excuse me," doesn't necessarily mean you're excused. Hollering over your parents as we're attempting to talk in the five seconds we have to figure out dinner is not going to help anyone. And yelling, "Excuse me," kinda cancels out the polite, there buddy. See previous bullet. And just hold on a second.
*Nap time really isn't for you. It's for me. So it's not optional. You do not have to sleep, but you do have to stay in your room without yelling for a full hour at least. (Note: that does not mean you get to start yelling after the first hour. I merely require one hour for sanity. More will benefit all of us.)
Example: Today when I put you down for nap, you solemnly swore that you would lie down and stay quiet. As soon as I left the room you bounced up and down and yelled my name for 17 different things that would mean I needed to come to the room and/or get you out of bed. "I have to pee!" "I have to poop!" "I need a drink!" "What was that sound?!?" "I need my hippo!" (which is now across the room where I threw it so you'd have to come and retrieve it.) "I'm hungry!" "Can I read a book?" "I miss you." All of that is infuriating. Please quit it.
*Saying you "need a break" right after you've done something that you know has earned you a time out will not get you out of time out. Nice try though.
Example: The other day when you pushed your brother over out of nowhere and then ran as fast as your legs would carry you to the corner of the kitchen yelling, "I need a break!!!" Nope. Still get a time out.
*Cracking up in the middle of your tantrum, while simultaneously amusing and exasperating, will still not get you out of whatever I'm asking you to do.
Example: Yesterday when I asked you to go potty and get your shoes on before we had to leave to pick up Daddy, and you screamed and yelled and threw yourself to the ground... and then started laughing like a little lunatic... you still had to go potty and get your shoes on. I believe this falls under the "I win" category. But that transition directly into mania from fury was pretty impressive, Squishman.
*Being gentle and kind and loving with your brother will always get you 4,271 points with Daddy and me. And your brother. Keep it up.
Example: Today, when we got home from dropping Daddy off at school, you very sweetly and gently helped your brother take off his jacket and shoes. Of your own accord. It was amazing. I love you.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
The Goblin King.. er, Queen?
You know those days when your two kids feel like 64 goblins?
Yeah. That.
We have been awake for all of two hours and the Little One has already tried to chop his fingers off with the box fan, electrocute himself by removing an outlet cover, cover the house (and himself) in both my Rosebud Salve and cream blush, and has participated in a 20 minute cry-a-thon.
This combined with the fact that my children have decided to listen to me never has made me feel a lot like David Bowie's character in Labyrinth. (Oh, I'm sorry, is my nerd showing?)
Perhaps this should be my solution:
Yeah. That.
We have been awake for all of two hours and the Little One has already tried to chop his fingers off with the box fan, electrocute himself by removing an outlet cover, cover the house (and himself) in both my Rosebud Salve and cream blush, and has participated in a 20 minute cry-a-thon.
This combined with the fact that my children have decided to listen to me never has made me feel a lot like David Bowie's character in Labyrinth. (Oh, I'm sorry, is my nerd showing?)
Perhaps this should be my solution:
Well... laugh.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Please Make the Lambs Stop Screaming
I just experienced my first full-on, committed, psychotic, no-holds-barred, kicking, screaming, hysterical big boy tantrum two days ago. It lasted 40 minutes. And it started because I wouldn't give him free reign with the squeegee in the shower.
So he kicked the shower walls and threw his towel on the shower floor. Then it escalated because the towel I gave him to replace the now soaking-wet one was too small. The Too Small Towel tantrum lasted a full 20 minutes on its own. Then it escalated further when he finally went to use the too-small towel and realized that he was already dry (having air-dried whilst tantruming). So then the tantrum became a Where Are My Drips; I Need New Drips tantrum.
(FYI: Attempting to explain evaporation to a screaming, kicking, writhing 3 year old is not effective. The more you know.)
Finally I decided that I just needed to get him in bed, at which point getting him dressed for bed turned it into the I Need To Go Hide tantrum. Because naked hiding is, apparently, the only logical option when one's towel is too small and one has no drips.
Round two happened yesterday. This one was over blueberry yogurt. It lasted 35 minutes. Apparently we are making progress?
Holy shit. I have no idea what is happening, but it is highly unpleasant.
(Ed. Note: The title of this post is stolen directly from the mouth of a good friend and fellow mama.)
So he kicked the shower walls and threw his towel on the shower floor. Then it escalated because the towel I gave him to replace the now soaking-wet one was too small. The Too Small Towel tantrum lasted a full 20 minutes on its own. Then it escalated further when he finally went to use the too-small towel and realized that he was already dry (having air-dried whilst tantruming). So then the tantrum became a Where Are My Drips; I Need New Drips tantrum.
(FYI: Attempting to explain evaporation to a screaming, kicking, writhing 3 year old is not effective. The more you know.)
Finally I decided that I just needed to get him in bed, at which point getting him dressed for bed turned it into the I Need To Go Hide tantrum. Because naked hiding is, apparently, the only logical option when one's towel is too small and one has no drips.
Round two happened yesterday. This one was over blueberry yogurt. It lasted 35 minutes. Apparently we are making progress?
Holy shit. I have no idea what is happening, but it is highly unpleasant.
(Ed. Note: The title of this post is stolen directly from the mouth of a good friend and fellow mama.)
Monday, June 18, 2012
Instant Personality Shift Syndrome
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
It is a little known problem, but a common parental condition.
IPSS, or Instant Personality Shift Syndrome, is rampant among the parents of young children. Its symptoms appear without warning and are difficult to treat. IPSS becomes almost incurable among the parents of toddlers and is easily recognizable. Exchanges such as, "Roll the ball, baby! Roll the ball to your brother! Good job, baby. GET OFF THE TABLE! That's right, roll the ball! Good! STOP THROWING THE BALL AT YOUR BROTHER'S HEAD! Wanna roll it back?" are commonplace in the parent/child exchanges involving parents with IPSS. Parents may move from soothing coos to ear-splitting screeching with nary a warning to be heard.
While IPSS is not life-threatening, it can cause others to question your sanity. Symptoms may include hollering, sighing dramatically, rolling of eyes, foreheads in hands, and clenched jaws. Symptoms may be accompanied by a toddler screaming, throwing things, tantruming, or hitting. Siblings may exacerbate the problem.
If you notice symptoms of IPSS and have a toddler in your home, do not be alarmed. Symptoms will begin to dissipate over the next two to sixteen years. If symptoms do not disappear completely, seek help immediately. And a margarita.
This has been a public service announcement. We will now return to regularly scheduled programming.
It is a little known problem, but a common parental condition.
IPSS, or Instant Personality Shift Syndrome, is rampant among the parents of young children. Its symptoms appear without warning and are difficult to treat. IPSS becomes almost incurable among the parents of toddlers and is easily recognizable. Exchanges such as, "Roll the ball, baby! Roll the ball to your brother! Good job, baby. GET OFF THE TABLE! That's right, roll the ball! Good! STOP THROWING THE BALL AT YOUR BROTHER'S HEAD! Wanna roll it back?" are commonplace in the parent/child exchanges involving parents with IPSS. Parents may move from soothing coos to ear-splitting screeching with nary a warning to be heard.
While IPSS is not life-threatening, it can cause others to question your sanity. Symptoms may include hollering, sighing dramatically, rolling of eyes, foreheads in hands, and clenched jaws. Symptoms may be accompanied by a toddler screaming, throwing things, tantruming, or hitting. Siblings may exacerbate the problem.
If you notice symptoms of IPSS and have a toddler in your home, do not be alarmed. Symptoms will begin to dissipate over the next two to sixteen years. If symptoms do not disappear completely, seek help immediately. And a margarita.
This has been a public service announcement. We will now return to regularly scheduled programming.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Fun.
So there are days when things are great, awesome even, and life is moving along swimmingly. Mornings at the beach filled with sun breaks and laughter. But then, it's time to leave the beach. And your 3 year old won't get in the car. And you have to manhandle him because he tries to run away from you in the middle of a parking lot and then he starts screaming. And then all of the other parents and children look at you. And then you have to smile like this: "HI!!! I'm torturing my child for sport! It's super awesome fun! Wanna join me? I have hot pokers in the trunk!!"
Can you picture my maniacal waving and open-mouthed smile?
Why? Why must the fit follow the awesome? Why must the perfect morning of fun be ruined by the perfect storm of evil whilst trying to move on to lunch and nap? Why?
Today, we had our final day of pre-3s preschool. We met at a beach on the sound and played in the sand and enjoyed some final time together. The kids played together, ran together, snacked together, sang their final songs of the year, and received handmade "yearbooks" from their teacher. It was dream day for a 3 year old. And yet.
As we went to leave, all was well. He said he did not want to go. I said that it was time to go because he was shivering ("I'm not cold!!") and the Little One needed a nap. He sulked briefly, tried again ("Can we go over to the swings? The other kids got to go!!"), but finally gave in somewhat gracefully. We gathered our things and walked to the car. Where he refused to get inside. And then ran around the car away from me every time I got near. And then I had to grab him and stuff him inside the car while he hollered.
Me smiling at the staring people: "Hi!!! Everything's fine here! Just a happy family preparing to leave!! No torture taking place whatsoever! PLEASE IGNORE THE SCREAMING."
And then he continued to cry and scream (and empty his shoes full of sand into his carseat) for the next hour. Through the garage. In the elevator. Through the halls of our building ("Hi Neighbors Who Already Hate Us For Having Children!!! Does this help? LIKE US NOW?!?!"). Into the house. Throughout being stripped of sandy clothes ("AAAHHHH!!!! TORTURE!!!! DON'T TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF!!!! OOOOWWWW!!!!"). Throughout attempts at nose-blowing ("I HAVE BOOOOOGGERSSS!!!"). Throughout attempts at going potty ("I CAN'T PEEEE!!!! I HAVE BOOOOOGGERSSSS!!!"). And into the beginning of lunch ("BUT I DON'T WANT THAT!!!" "That's what we're having." "BUT I DON'T WANT THAT!!!" "Then I'll give it to your brother." I WAAANT THAAAAAAT!!!!!").
And then I forgot all about the nice time we had this morning and wished I could get on an airplane and fly to Japan to see cherry blossoms. That seems quiet.
Can you picture my maniacal waving and open-mouthed smile?
Why? Why must the fit follow the awesome? Why must the perfect morning of fun be ruined by the perfect storm of evil whilst trying to move on to lunch and nap? Why?
Today, we had our final day of pre-3s preschool. We met at a beach on the sound and played in the sand and enjoyed some final time together. The kids played together, ran together, snacked together, sang their final songs of the year, and received handmade "yearbooks" from their teacher. It was dream day for a 3 year old. And yet.
As we went to leave, all was well. He said he did not want to go. I said that it was time to go because he was shivering ("I'm not cold!!") and the Little One needed a nap. He sulked briefly, tried again ("Can we go over to the swings? The other kids got to go!!"), but finally gave in somewhat gracefully. We gathered our things and walked to the car. Where he refused to get inside. And then ran around the car away from me every time I got near. And then I had to grab him and stuff him inside the car while he hollered.
Me smiling at the staring people: "Hi!!! Everything's fine here! Just a happy family preparing to leave!! No torture taking place whatsoever! PLEASE IGNORE THE SCREAMING."
And then he continued to cry and scream (and empty his shoes full of sand into his carseat) for the next hour. Through the garage. In the elevator. Through the halls of our building ("Hi Neighbors Who Already Hate Us For Having Children!!! Does this help? LIKE US NOW?!?!"). Into the house. Throughout being stripped of sandy clothes ("AAAHHHH!!!! TORTURE!!!! DON'T TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF!!!! OOOOWWWW!!!!"). Throughout attempts at nose-blowing ("I HAVE BOOOOOGGERSSS!!!"). Throughout attempts at going potty ("I CAN'T PEEEE!!!! I HAVE BOOOOOGGERSSSS!!!"). And into the beginning of lunch ("BUT I DON'T WANT THAT!!!" "That's what we're having." "BUT I DON'T WANT THAT!!!" "Then I'll give it to your brother." I WAAANT THAAAAAAT!!!!!").
And then I forgot all about the nice time we had this morning and wished I could get on an airplane and fly to Japan to see cherry blossoms. That seems quiet.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Just To Make Things Clear...
Dear Little One,
It seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding here. I apologize for any confusion. Let me try to clear a few things up.
I want you to know that changing your diaper is in no way an attempt to murder or dismember you. I am not trying to kill you, maim you, torture you, or upset you in any way. I am merely attempting to rid the room of the foul stench you have produced, while simultaneously attempting to keep your bum happy and rash-free.
You seem to have come to the conclusion that diaper change = attempted murder. Let me be clear: I AM NOT TRYING TO HURT YOU. I swear. No harm intended. Just want to get a clean diaper on you and wipe up any mess. So, if you could please refrain from shrieking and writhing as though I'm jabbing you with hot pokers, I think you could save us both a lot frustration and heartbreak. And a neighbor call to CPS. Which would be awkward.
Thank you.
Love,
Mama
It seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding here. I apologize for any confusion. Let me try to clear a few things up.
I want you to know that changing your diaper is in no way an attempt to murder or dismember you. I am not trying to kill you, maim you, torture you, or upset you in any way. I am merely attempting to rid the room of the foul stench you have produced, while simultaneously attempting to keep your bum happy and rash-free.
You seem to have come to the conclusion that diaper change = attempted murder. Let me be clear: I AM NOT TRYING TO HURT YOU. I swear. No harm intended. Just want to get a clean diaper on you and wipe up any mess. So, if you could please refrain from shrieking and writhing as though I'm jabbing you with hot pokers, I think you could save us both a lot frustration and heartbreak. And a neighbor call to CPS. Which would be awkward.
Thank you.
Love,
Mama
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
IDIOTS
There is something special about parenthood that makes even the most confident among us feel like complete idiots. That unique something: kids.
There you are, minding your own business, thinking you've got it all figured out. You've read all the books and poured over all the research. OR you've worked with kids your entire life. OR you've known you were cut out for parenthood your whole life. OR everyone has always told you you'd make a wonderful mother one day. OR you're simply a genius who excels at everything she does. You got this. You're ready. You will definitely not be the kind of mother who does that. Or that. Your kids will never behave that way. You know you need to be consistent and loving and you have it ALL PLANNED OUT.
And then you have kids.
The other day, I became the mother I always swore I wouldn't become. I had seen such things and my children would never, ever behave that way in public. Until they did, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
All of a sudden, I was the mother pleading with her whiny, crying toddler splayed across the floor of the Nordstrom women's bathroom TO GET UP while her 14 month old screamed and tried to claw his way out of the Ergo. I was attempting to remain calm while negotiating with a tiny terrorist. I was pulling on his limp arms and doing that horrible whisper growl while random women stared and smiled judgingly. One grandmotherly woman even asked my son to pull her finger (thinking it would make him laugh I guess?) and then offered to pick my toddler up off the floor. Yes, woman I've never met. Man-handling my tantruming son will absolutely improve this situation. As will teaching him fart jokes. Thank you.
Ugh. It was completely humiliating. And probably an appropriate rite of passage for a formerly self-righteous-not-yet-mother who just knew she would never let that happen. What I did not know then is that sometimes you can't stop it from happening. I was caught completely off-guard. We had had a lovely morning playdate and were just running into the bathroom to change an ill-timed diaper on my 14 month old. Everything had been fine. Then my toddler's internal lunch bell must have gone off, because he totally lost his shit for no reason at all. And then he laid down in front of the door in the Nordstrom women's bathroom.
As I was pleading and begging and threatening and negotiating, I overheard a conversation between two new moms who were in the lounge breastfeeding. They were discussing the horror stories they'd heard about 3 year olds (anxious glance at my son) and how they simply couldn't believe that it was really that bad (second wary glance at melty puddle of toddler getting smacked in the head by women's room door). I managed to drag my son up off the floor, pointed down at him and said, "This is three." And then I smiled a great big giant smile. Good luck, ladies!
Because I knew I couldn't warn them. They wouldn't believe me! Not their kids. Seriously, I don't how every single one of us marches into parenthood filled with such moronic aplomb and certainty. Admit it: it all goes to hell as soon as the kid arrives and throws a little humanity in our best laid plans. What's worse is that we continue to announce what we will and will not do until our kids grow up and move out. Or until we die. Why do we not learn? It is impossible to anticipate how you're going to react in any given situation. You may swear up and down that you will never, ever, ever let your baby sleep in bed with you, but then one day you haven't slept in a week and she's sleeping so peacefully on your chest and... eh. Plans, schmans. You might vow that you will NEVER be the parent who allows your child to cause a ruckus in a restaurant, but then you find yourself with a warm plate of delicious food sitting right in front of you (something you have not experienced in, oh, however long your child has been out of the womb) and you hand him the spoon. Because it's not that loud and they can just deal.
Parenthood causes you to eat your words faster and more often than any other experience on the planet. Perhaps because we are all stubborn idiots who insist we are right all the time. The Mommy Wars need to be done, my friends. None of us are right. We all try to be right and we all try to do what is best for our kids. We HAVE to believe that we are right because this shit is hard. But believe this: you ARE going to do that thing you swore you would never do (cheddar bunnies for dinner? sure.)... and it's all going to be okay.
My kids had a ginormous tantrum in public, and I survived. I was that mother. Whatever.
There you are, minding your own business, thinking you've got it all figured out. You've read all the books and poured over all the research. OR you've worked with kids your entire life. OR you've known you were cut out for parenthood your whole life. OR everyone has always told you you'd make a wonderful mother one day. OR you're simply a genius who excels at everything she does. You got this. You're ready. You will definitely not be the kind of mother who does that. Or that. Your kids will never behave that way. You know you need to be consistent and loving and you have it ALL PLANNED OUT.
And then you have kids.
The other day, I became the mother I always swore I wouldn't become. I had seen such things and my children would never, ever behave that way in public. Until they did, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
All of a sudden, I was the mother pleading with her whiny, crying toddler splayed across the floor of the Nordstrom women's bathroom TO GET UP while her 14 month old screamed and tried to claw his way out of the Ergo. I was attempting to remain calm while negotiating with a tiny terrorist. I was pulling on his limp arms and doing that horrible whisper growl while random women stared and smiled judgingly. One grandmotherly woman even asked my son to pull her finger (thinking it would make him laugh I guess?) and then offered to pick my toddler up off the floor. Yes, woman I've never met. Man-handling my tantruming son will absolutely improve this situation. As will teaching him fart jokes. Thank you.
Ugh. It was completely humiliating. And probably an appropriate rite of passage for a formerly self-righteous-not-yet-mother who just knew she would never let that happen. What I did not know then is that sometimes you can't stop it from happening. I was caught completely off-guard. We had had a lovely morning playdate and were just running into the bathroom to change an ill-timed diaper on my 14 month old. Everything had been fine. Then my toddler's internal lunch bell must have gone off, because he totally lost his shit for no reason at all. And then he laid down in front of the door in the Nordstrom women's bathroom.
As I was pleading and begging and threatening and negotiating, I overheard a conversation between two new moms who were in the lounge breastfeeding. They were discussing the horror stories they'd heard about 3 year olds (anxious glance at my son) and how they simply couldn't believe that it was really that bad (second wary glance at melty puddle of toddler getting smacked in the head by women's room door). I managed to drag my son up off the floor, pointed down at him and said, "This is three." And then I smiled a great big giant smile. Good luck, ladies!
Because I knew I couldn't warn them. They wouldn't believe me! Not their kids. Seriously, I don't how every single one of us marches into parenthood filled with such moronic aplomb and certainty. Admit it: it all goes to hell as soon as the kid arrives and throws a little humanity in our best laid plans. What's worse is that we continue to announce what we will and will not do until our kids grow up and move out. Or until we die. Why do we not learn? It is impossible to anticipate how you're going to react in any given situation. You may swear up and down that you will never, ever, ever let your baby sleep in bed with you, but then one day you haven't slept in a week and she's sleeping so peacefully on your chest and... eh. Plans, schmans. You might vow that you will NEVER be the parent who allows your child to cause a ruckus in a restaurant, but then you find yourself with a warm plate of delicious food sitting right in front of you (something you have not experienced in, oh, however long your child has been out of the womb) and you hand him the spoon. Because it's not that loud and they can just deal.
Parenthood causes you to eat your words faster and more often than any other experience on the planet. Perhaps because we are all stubborn idiots who insist we are right all the time. The Mommy Wars need to be done, my friends. None of us are right. We all try to be right and we all try to do what is best for our kids. We HAVE to believe that we are right because this shit is hard. But believe this: you ARE going to do that thing you swore you would never do (cheddar bunnies for dinner? sure.)... and it's all going to be okay.
My kids had a ginormous tantrum in public, and I survived. I was that mother. Whatever.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
How To Tame A Toddler
Dear god, don't ask me. I was hoping someone else out there knows. Perhaps it's akin to taming a lion and I need to just pick up a chair and point it at him? Worth a shot.
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