My Little Picasso's

My Little Picasso's

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Phase "Terrible Twos"

Phases end, right?


And don't tell me, when he's three.

Some of my friends told me, it is not the two's, it's the three's.  My a#@!  I am going to have to differ with your opinion there.  Yet, these friends did have girls.  I have a boy.  A very sweet, absolute copycat, melt your heart with his laugh, stubborn, boisterous, break the sound barrier with his cry boy.  I swear, my hearing is affected by all these tantrums and "phases."  My husband came up behind me yesterday and I had no clue, he said something and I jumped out of my skin.  My poor sensitive ears.  All I want is quiet.  Screw that new episode of NCIS tonight, just leave me in a quiet room.

My little Max's newest trick is putting him to sleep, or as he likes to think, not putting him to sleep.  Whether it be nap or bedtime, he is not having it.

We have the most magical routine with him which I must insist you all begin as soon as possible.  My little Charlie is in the routine and gets it.  (Are you in a routine or on a routine?)  About 6:15ish pm the boys eat and then it is upstairs for bathtime.  Max tries to use the potty.  This is going up and down ... Boys get bathed together.  Aquafor and pajamas, try to tame the wildness of the hair, and downstairs for snack!  If the aforementioned events do not go well, snack becomes milk only.  Brush teeth.  Kisses for all and bed.  Turn on the night light sea turtle, grab the blankies and stuffed animals, climb into bed on your own, all tucked in with everyone and everything, 2 stories, turn on the heartbeat bear and he is telling us to turn off the light.  We barely get into the room now before the whimpering begins, the little dance of stomping his feet, the arm waving, the tears, the hitting ... yikes, the hitting.

One night we made the mistake of letting him sleep in our bed - to our defense, Michael had just had his vasectomy two days before and was feeling quite ill, I was about to fall over, and Max would not sleep.  I could only handle one up, not two so before we knew it he is playing in our bed and then I wake up next to him and Michael all snuggled together and I am hanging off the bed.  I SAID I WOULD NEVER DO THAT.  I AM WEAK.  I SUCCUMBED TO EXHAUSTION.  PLEASE DO NOT HANG ME ON THE MOTHER WALL OF SHAME.

We have not had him in our bed since, yet listened to many tantrums.  He has finally now stopped after coming through the door almost three times for his afternoon nap.

What gives?  Something suddenly clicked in him - let's make mummy more exhausted than ever.  Hey kid, it's the holidays, give me a break!  And it had to come now when Daddy can barely lift a book.

I know it is a phase, but when everything works so well, you just never see these hitches coming.  I got hit by a mack truck ... a very stubborn two year old.  I understand things could be much worse.  Sometimes all I can do is laugh at the foot stamping cutie pie.  I secretly enjoy the clinginess he has with me because I will miss that when this "phase" is over.  However at the same time I question myself as a parent, what have I done wrong?  Did I over stimulate him that day?  Did we play too much?  Did we not play enough?  Then I slap myself for taking it too far.

It is a "phase."  Just a very difficult one.

December 13th, 2011

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