When Do I Get to Throw a Tantrum?

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.


Cat Shit

a brief glimpse into the craziness that sometimes happens even when the kids are asleep...

sooooo...S. and i have the two cats along with the kiddos.  S. gave galore to me on our 2 year anniversary, and S. was basically followed home by tulah last summer.  galore is gray and white and because of the pattern on her head, it looks like shes wearing a helmet.  tulah is calico and long haired...to the point that its a little annoying because ive never had a long haired cat before.  neither of our cats are "fixed".  why? you may ask....well, because we dont let either of the cats go outside, and because we dont really have the money for it, but BEcause we dont let them outside, we figured this was ok.  when galore started going into heat, it was pretty annoying, but weve gotten to the point where we can deal with the yowling for a few days a month....and were pretty sure that tulah is starting to go into heat now too.

since were pretty sure that tulah is starting to go into heat, when she started up with the yowling last tuesday, i didnt think anything of it.  then i kept noticing her licking her ass....not like its anything out of the ordinary....i figured she was either trying to clean up, or trying to get rid of her, ahem, "itch".  but she kept doing it, so i pointed it out to S. that night.....whatever.  we put the dude to bed, we stay up a while, then we put princess to bed, and as im, um, changing into my pajamas (?) for bed, S. starts getting all mad because tulah is dragging her ass on the carpet a la any sort of dog....it was actually pretty funny!  but because S. is mad, i say, "well, lets check her butt, maybe she has worms"  (i said this because i know we have some fleas in the house, because we just moved into a new appartment where the previous renters had lots of dogs, so worms would be the next step..)  so, S. picks up tulah, and i lean over to lift up that nice fluffy long haired tail to find.....

cat shit stuck in the long fur around her butt.

*heavy sigh*

im actually laughing hysterically at this point.  why? well, im not really sure.  maybe it was because it was 10:30 at night, maybe it was because ive never had to clean cat shit out of my cats butt hair before, maybe it was because S. was pretty annoyed by this point...whatever the reason...i was laughing a lot!!

so, S. held tulah as i tried to grab at the culprit with some paper towels....it didnt work.  i tell S. im going to have to cut it out.

S. puts on his winter jacket and gloves, grabs at tulah...she runs.  we get her into the bathroom...but as S. is trying to get her into a position where he can hold her and i can take the scissors to the troubled area, galore is freaking out because tulah is crying and galore keeps trying to jump up on me and S.

we kick galore out of the bathroom.

some more craziness ensues as S. wrestles tulah to the floor.

the end result of this scene is....me (in my "pajamas") on my knees on the bathroom floor holding the door shut with my foot to keep galore out and tulah in, S. holding tulah down on the floor on her side, tulahs yowling/hissing, S. is complaining about how she bit him through his gloves, and im lifting up her tail and trying to cut out the piece of crap stuck in her butt hair while also trying to do it Quickly so she dosnt move and i end up stabbing her somewhere.....i finish...we let tulah go.  we go to bed, laughing. 

tulah didnt sleep with us all night.

yes, this is our life.


im a jerk? no YOU"RE a jerk.

i swear to god.  when S. and i are playing around with dude, he tells us were "jerks"

this is, actually, hilarious to us.

you all might be wanting some explanation about this behavior....read on. 

are S. and i "traditional" parents?  um, maybe.  kinda. sorta?  whatever it is that we ARE classified as parenting wise, i wouldnt say that we are........"up to the times" ?  "current" ?  whatever you might call it.  yes, we yell at dude (and im VERY sure we will yell at princess too), dude has been spanked, he has been put in time out, we dont discuss his feelings for long periods of time when he throws a temper tantrum....he is told to go chill out by himself somewhere and he can come back to the group when hes sufficiently chilled out.  he is made to eat all of his meal, whatever it may be, he is in no way coddled....well, you know, unless hes actually hurt.  but if hes told a hundred times to say, not run in the kitchen, but he does and he slips on the rug and he falls and busts his butt, our reaction is something along the lines of, "are you ok? you are? well, we TOLD you not to run in the kitchen...how did that work out for you?"  all said while we continue to do what we were initially doing.  are we heartless? not in any way whatsoever, we love dude like crazy and are continuously talking about how awesome he is.  but he IS 2, and he needs to figure some of this shit out himself.

other examples....we have told him hes a brat, a booger, that hes a poopy head and that he stinks when he has a shitty diaper (and he laughs. just so you know).  S. and dude play really rough, pretend slapping each other, rolling around and wrestling, and one of S.s favorite things to say to dude?  "youre a jerk."  quite a few months ago, dudes response started to be, "no, youre a jerk."  with a huge smile on his face.  needless to say, S. laughed hysterically and its become their "thing". 

dude is a total sweetheart, cuddles with both of us all the time, says "sweet dreams, love you" on his way to bed,  when he accidentally hits me he says "sorry mama" as he kisses whatever part he hit, he kisses and hugs all of his toys, and his sister, the cats, and gives his "baby dinosaur a "pacifier" and carries it around like a baby. 

but there are other times that he is a total......guy.  one night, he was laying on the floor next to me, he rubbed my head and pushed the hair away from my eyes and said, "i love you mama"  and i got a little choked up.....i told him, "awwwee buddy, i love you so much, youre so sweet"  and he immediately said to me, "shut up. stop it."  my jaw dropped.  S. laughed. a lot.  i (gently) pushed my son, and told him he was a booger.  while i was smiling of course. 

are we possibly raising a boy that will give off major mixed signals to his lady friends? im a little concerned about it.  but at this point, hes so charming that he gets away with it.  dont worry ladies, ill make sure that he can do all the manly things around the house, and know how to clean the house, and he will in no way be an actual jerk to whoever is living with him.

 but for now, hes a jerk :)


ghost baby?

before you all freak out and get weird, finish reading the post.

something has happened a few times and its made me think.....  continue reading before you really freak out.

so, sometimes, randomly, i can feel a twinge in my belly that completely reminds me of when i was still pregnant and princess was kicking.  the most recent time it happened, i was laying on my stomach (which is silly, because when did i EVER lay on my belly while i was pregnat with either princess or dude?) and i KNEW that what i was feeling was my pulse because it was so steady, and, well, you just know its your pulse.  but it felt exactly like being kicked by your baby while pregnant.  i dont remember the other time quite as well, but i remember the feeling it evoked.  for a few seconds it was like i was pregnant again and i felt that same elation that is felt when you feel your baby moving inside of you. 

what is UP with this?

the feeling is so strong, that i kind of have to remind myself that princess is sleeping in her cradle, not in my belly.  i dont remember having any of these feelings after giving birth to dude.....but maybe i was so sleep deprived that i didnt notice anything.  im pretty sure that by this point, im used to the whole "no sleep" thing. 

is this a weird form of post partum depression?  is this something akin to "ghost limbs"? you know, when a person loses a limb, but can still feel it itch sometimes.  is my body somehow mourning the baby that could have been?  of course dont get me wrong, i LOVE princess with all of my heart, just like i LOVE dude with all of my heart, but isnt it true that the mother always vaguely mourns the baby that she could have had?  as in, my dude COULD have been a girl, whose hair i could put in bows....and princess COULD have been another boy that i could have dressed in ridiculous amounts of camo....

when i say "post partum depression" dont get me wrong....i have had no feelings of depression whatsoever, im so happy with my family and my babies, but.....i dont know, these weird kicking feelings in my belly are making me think hardcore.  is it my body telling me to have another baby?  am i crazy to be thinking this already at this point? um. yes. yes i am. and i know it.  S. would say the same thing and he is very firm on the idea of having no more kids.....but i definately get baby fever with these twinge/kick feelings in my stomach at random times of the day. 

my pregnancy with princess wasnt exactly "hard" or "complicated" but i know for a fact that many people, including S. and my parents are glad that its over...i was known to be a hardcore bitch this time around....personally, i think they thought this because 1) S. wasnt around while i was preggo with dude (he was serving a second tour in iraq)  and 2) i think my parents choose to NOT remember what it was like while i was living with them while preggo with dude.  but regardless, i was known to be a bitch, and emotional, you know, those normal pregnancy things.  i had WICKed acid reflux, and my back was sore all the time, and i was ridiculously tired because of the 2 year old in my life.  so when i think of all of those things, i also wonder if i DO want any more children (ive been known to say that i want 3 or 4).  approximately one day after princess was born i thought to myself..."wait.  shit.  i forgot about going through the "teething" thing again."  and i got REALLY scared and nervous and thought for a split second of sending her back. 

but then i looked at her face and wanted a hundred more just like her...and dude too.

am i doomed to always be thinking of "ghost baby"? 

do i want more children?  do i want to deal with the tiredness? the freaking craziness that is my house already plus MORE?  the diapers? the baby poop? burp cloths?  spending money on little girl tights, and bows, and little boy baseball hats, and formula, and plastic cups in bright rainbow colors? 

um. yes.  because that first time that that baby smiles at you breaks your heart.  thats why.

sooooo, ghost baby....will we ever meet?

The days when you want to strangle someone.

Those days are irritating. To say the least.

S. and I, and of course the babies, just moved to a new apartment.  My mom watched Dude and Princess for us, and my dad helped us because we literally had 2 days in which to move a shitload of stuff.... and we moved into a slightly smaller space....so now there are boxes everywhere, I have no idea where ANYthing is...so that is incredibly frustrating when I have 2 people who are constantly asking me where such and such is...and by 2 people I mean S. and Dude...obviously princess doesn't talk yet.   

The move itself went fairly well, S. and I were very anxious to get out of a bad situation with our neighbors and landlord, and the weekend was nice, so like I said, easy enough.  But by Sunday night, after we had the babies back, and I had broken 6 fingernails (yeah it's a little thing, but it's painful sometimes you know?) a very sore back and butt muscles from going up and down the stairs hundreds of times....I was pretty much exhausted and done

Then Monday, Dude was out of control and whiney and freaking out all day.  Look, I get it.  He's 2.  This move is stressful for him too.  I seriously understand.  Even though his room is set up and his favorite toys are out, obviously he doesn't really understand what's going on.  Then when S. got home from work, we went over to our old neighbors house (the neighbors that we had liked) because they had offered to cook us supper so we wouldn't have to also deal with making supper during the move.....so of course Dude was going crazy because he got to hang out with his 2 "girlfriends" and wouldn't really eat, sooooo.....he climbed into my lap to eat his soup....and proceeded to dump an entire mug of milk all over himself and me. 


It was all I could do to not scream. 

It was my breaking point. 

I gently set him down on the floor.  Took the towel that was offered to me as the room went completely hear a pin drop silent.  Wiped up the milk.  Very quickly downed the rum and coke I had been given when we arrived.  And finished my soup.

 I think I deserve some credit for not strangling anyone. 

Why was this the breaking point for me?  Because of the incredibly fast move, I can't find any pants of mine that are clean, and do not have holes in them (meaning the crotch or butt) so that I can wear them in public.  The last pair that I had that was decent? Yeah, those are the pants that got drenched in milk. So now they smell disgusting.  And even though the washer is hooked up, the dryer needs some sort of adapter because the plug-in isn't what we need......all small problems? Yeah.  Can they be fixed easily? Yes.  But between S. working and me trying to unpack and make the apartment livable while entertaining a 2 year old and feeding Princess....these things might not happen until this weekend.

I guess I'm done bitching about something ridiculously small and insignifigant....but trust me, it didn't seem small and insignifigant at the time.  I don't really have to go anywhere for the next couple of days anyway....so I guess Dude and Princess and S. will have to be ok with seeing some holes in the ass of my jeans.

One of the funny things about this move?  S.s ex wife.  Yes, you read that right.

We texted her on Sunday afternoon to ask if S. could call his daughter k. later that night because he was busy moving. 

Her response?  "I will ask her if she wants to talk to you. And as per our agreement you need to update me on your current address, and employers name and address." 

Our response? "As per our agreement you are supposed to be keeping me informed of ______'s health and you still haven't told me what happened last Tuesday" (k. had to go to the doctor because she is LOSING weight, she is almost 6 and only 32 pounds, {{meanwhile, Dude is 2 and 29 pounds}}. Oh and there is blood in her urine, and apparently has been there for quite some time. Awesome.  S. texted her about 3 times every night last week to find out what happened....did he get any sort of response? Obviously not.) 

The part about keeping k's mom updated on S.s employer?  That's funny because as soon as k's mom got the child support agency involved in the situation...yeah, we DON'T have to keep HER informed on S.s info...we have to keep the CHILD SUPPORT agency informed.  Silly girl. 

Oh, and S. never got to talk to k. because apparently 5 year olds can't be told to talk to their fathers.

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