Our son, Dude is 28 months old....such a big boy, an awesome big brother, sweet, handsome.
He's also 2. That's the crappy part.
The temper tantrums are starting to make me go insane, as I'm sure they are making S. go insane...at a slightly slower pace since he goes to work during the day. The fact that he is going insane slower than I am will be good in the long run. He will be able to stay with the kids while I crawl into a hole somewhere, curl into the fetal position and hum softly to myself. No, no humming actually. Because probably any noise whatsoever at that point, will send me down a spiral of tears and shaking.
I'm slightly exaggerating. slightly.
Like I have acknowledged before. I GET it, I really do....I think maybe "God" or whatever higher power there is up there, sends 2 year olds into our lives so that we will be able to deal with teenage girls at some point...either as the parent of one, or sibling, or whatever. (I apologize to Princess in advance, since I know she'll probably read this when she's a teenager or something and will think "thanks a fucking lot mom".) Or maybe God put me through an emotional crappy point of life (being a teenage girl) so that I would be able to deal with my 2 year olds when they came around eventually. Whatever the case, I GET Dudes emotions. I know it sucks to feel like you're not getting any attention, i.e, there's a new baby in the house. Or when your show gets turned off, even though you're not watching it anymore....but you know, of course it makes sense to flip shit when your favorite movie gets turned off because you're in your bedroom playing with your cars instead of in the livingroom watching the movie and your mother would rather watch "Days of Our Lives" instead of "Cars" for the freaking 1000th time.....but I digress. I understand that Dude feels like he doesn't get enough attention from daddy when he gets home from work....it used to be daddy and Dude time, but now sometimes daddy has to take Princess so I don't shoot myself in the foot for an excuse to leave the house for a few hours.
I feel bad for Dude sometimes, seriously. I'm sure it's incredibly confusing to him to have so many changes in his life. Some days he is so incredibly sweet, waking up with a smile and a "hey mama" and he comes and sits with me on the couch, and doesn't make a ridiculous mess while eating breakfast. Then it all goes completely downhill. Downhill roller coaster fast. Ridiculously fast. So that I'm standing there with my head spinning wondering where the hell my awesome son went and where the hell this demon child came from. His head doesn't spin, but sometimes he spins in circles. In the kitchen. Then chases the cat. Jumps on her. Pulls her tail. I yell. He cries. Rinse and repeat. Until about 5pm when daddy comes home. Then daddy takes my place while I sit outside chain smoking and contemplating curling up into the fetal position and humming to myself and dreading the fact that I have to go back inside to cook supper.
The most notable of these famous tantrums? Yesterday. Definitely yesterday. I have to be honest, I have completely forgotten why Dude flipped out, but he did. It was bad. So, we very calmly told Dude that we weren't mad at him or anything, but that he had to go into his room and sit on his bed until he calmed down and then we would have supper. He didn't calm down. Tthe crying and screaming continued for a good ten minutes before I finally went in there because it was at the point that I was afraid he was going to make himself sick. I know I have said before that we don't "coddle" Dude during his breakdowns, but this was bad. So I sat with him, was calm, tried to talk to him over the screaming, then finally gave up and just sat with him. A few minutes later even S. came in. We talked to him some more, tried to tell him again that we weren't mad at him, that he just had to calm down. What finally got him out of this breakdown? When I started telling him what we were going to eat for supper and I got the point of "biscuits." Honestly. He heard the word "biscuits" and it was like the freaking faucet turned off and he did a complete 180 and got down off his bed calmly and walked into the kitchen. What the FUCK? My reaction? "Okaayyyyyy. Let's eat."
My mom likes to tell stories of how, at Dudes age, I, being the sweet, gentle, loving little girl I was (hahaha I'm exaggerating of course), would break into waterworks if my dad looked at me and said "______ eat your supper" in the nicest, most loving way. I would just break down, lose my mind at the dinner table. Is this payback? I'm pretty sure that if my mom is reading this, she is nodding her head while very emphatically saying "YES" and laughing. Payback is a bitch, in case any of you out there didn't already know that.
Back to my original question, when do I get to throw a temper tantrum?
Maybe if I ever get pregnant again?
Now I'm sure that S. is laughing at this point if he's reading this.
Last night Princess went to sleep pretty hard, I was rocking her in her cradle until 11pm or so, then she was up at 3am (I'm pretty sure one of the cats woke her up and if I figure out which one I might kick it...no, I would never do that, jeez. I'm just trying to make a point). As I'm walking around the room trying to put on pajama pants in a blurry not quite awake fuzz, I can see S. sit up in bed, but it's obvious he is nowhere near awake, I'm pretty sure he was sitting up with his eyes still shut. So I get the Princess and bring her into the living room to change her diaper and make a bottle. As I've got her all unwrapped I realize there are no diapers readily available....and that there is also an old diaper, all wrapped up, that S. hadn't taken care of when he changed her before bed. I just about lost my damn mind. I grab another diaper, throw the other one away, the whole time screaming at S. in my head because I didn't want to scare Princess or wake up Dude by screaming at S. out loud. I get the bottle made, after I WASH one out, almost fall asleep while giving it to Princess on the couch, then we do fall asleep on the couch, because it was almost 4am at this point and I didn't want to go back to bed and listen to S.s alarm go off at 4:30. At about 5am S. gives me a kiss to say "see ya" because he's headed out the door, and apparently the look on my face was pretty bitchy because he says those magic words that usually will make any woman even MORE mad, "Are you mad at me." Of course I say "Yes." At this point I have to give S credit, because even though he should be leaving for work, he sits down on the coffee table and asks me why. I tell him. I'm not nice about it. He says, "Ok. have a good day ______" and he leaves. I'm pissed. Angry. Livid. But for a split second I'm sad that I wasn't a little bit nicer about it because that's really not a good way to start the day, you know, listening to someone bitch at you as you're about to leave for work, or to be bitching at someone at 5am. Like I said, sad for a split second, then I fell back asleep. When I woke up, I was mad again.
But after working out my frustrations by keeping myself really busy all day, and having numerous conversations with S. in my head in which I yell at him about everysinglefuckingthing he has ever done wrong....I calmed down. And S. came home. And we've had a good night, and talked about the situation a little bit, and cleared some things up. And I even apologized for being a bitch.
But I didn't apologize for feeling the way I did, that would be silly.
I kind of wish I had thrown a tantrum. Just a little. It seems like I have come to a point in my life, where even when it's a little necessary that I lose my shit, I don't, because of the kids. That's not fair in. the. least.
I think I might have to pick up kickboxing or something.
And pretend I'm throwing a tantrum while throwing punches.