**Disclaimer
– There may or may not be a plate of French fries and a beer next to me as I
write this.
Michael saw
it all over my face yesterday when he came home for an hour or so between his
double shifts. He simply sighed and put
on a very sympathetic “I’m sorry you have to deal with this” face. I was fighting back tears. And then I couldn’t fight them back
anymore. I was losing. My sons were winning.
Everyone
said “terrible twos.” It wasn’t the
two’s so much, but the threes. Both my
kids went through it … Charlie really went through it. So when did my 4 year old and almost 6 year
old become three again. Was some kind of
procedure done overnight … that one night they slept really well perhaps?
Charlie has
been seeing doctors since last year; sleep specialists, pediatricians, play
therapists, occupational therapists. I
give so much credit to his wonderful teachers at the U-Gro Center in Hershey,
PA and the lovely occupational therapists we see almost weekly at the Penn
State Hershey Medical Center. Ultimately
he has to come home and be just as good for me, or Michael, or both of us as
his teachers might see him on a daily basis.
He doesn’t sleep as much as he should at night, he screams, he’s loud,
he’s wakes his friends up at naptime, don’t get me started about potty
training. (Case in point – he declares,
“I don’t care” after messing his pants.)
We went through a very hard spring and summer was time to collect
ourselves at home … and we did. Is he
misbehaving because Max is now in kindergarten and he’s not, is it because he’s
moved up a classroom, is it because I have gone back to work? IDK. I
can use lingo with him, I can slow him down, I know when he needs sleep. It’s my job, I’m his mom.
Max … I have
no answer with Max. Max has become a
little (expletive). Fill in as you
wish. I have a couple I use. I just rotate them. What, do you think you’re a big man just
because you’re in kindergarten? As far
as I know, you still cry when you get a boo-boo. You still want your favorite book read at
night, need a huggle, want me to do crafts during quiet time. So, why … why are you testing me, testing
your teachers at U-Gro, testing Daddy. Yesterday
as I tried to talk to him he shut his eyes.
The little (expletive) shut his eyes on me. After every failed attempt at trying to
“talk” to my boy, he was put in his room.
He then proceeded to almost put his fist through a wall. I had to calm him. Had to grab hold, and hold on, and calm him.
This is not my sweet little boy who I
have not ever had a problem with before.
He will growl at me, wag his finger at me, bare his teeth. I’m sorry … NO. I’m sorry Max, but you will not run this
house.
Needless to
say, by the end of the night, they each had a slapped bum and an early
bedtime. I didn’t hear much past
7:30pm. SUCCESS! I got to see the whole soccer game! Awake by 5:00am. FAIL.
We’ll try
again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys, but sometimes I don’t like them very
much.
September 6th, 2015
September 6th, 2015
