Ok, so right off the bat, this isn’t as much style related as it is Mom related, aka chaos. But we all get it, right? We can all be friends, here? You will nod and understand when I simply ask why my kids can be such assholes, sometimes? And since we may not know each other very well just yet, I feel the need to add that I love my kids, fiercely. They are my everything and I would do anything for them, but they are kids, and sometimes, well, sometimes they are just assholes. I still love them. And would never say such things to their little faces (the asshole part, I tell them I love them, constantly). The obvious answer here, to why my kids are assholes, is that it’s somehow my fault. I’m the one that’s raising them. I’m the one that’s trying to teach them right from wrong and yet here we are, wondering where it is exactly that we went wrong and why, for the love of God, the big one won’t listen to me and why he doesn’t want to leave the house when he’s not even doing anything that fun at the house anyhow!
I think we fought for close to 40 minutes today. Maybe more. It’s all a blur, now. The first fight was getting him to put socks and shoes on. The little one is newly excited about putting on socks and shoes and has a love for furry coats so she already had all her stuff on and was pumping her arms ready to go. Seriously, the cutest. At least she was cute and sweet, today.
So first, the big one simply didn’t want to put on socks and shoes, and then once that was finally agreed upon, he couldn’t decide where he wanted to sit to put on said socks and shoes. Then, the socks and shoes and the vest were all on and we were ready to walk two houses down to have a little play date with the neighbor. Well, then he didn’t want to go out Daddy’s garage door. And refused to come anywhere near the door so that we could leave. So then, as ridiculous as it sounds, I tried to bribe him by saying we could take the stroller. It’s been a fun thing lately that the little one sits in the kid part of the single Bob stroller and then he latches on and holds on to the front of it. We call it getting a free ride. Ha! Anyhow, he agrees to the stroller (which, thankfully, is in Mommy’s garage, solving two problems at once) but demands that we take the double stroller. Oh for Christ’s sake. Fine, we can take the double stroller. Do you want to sit in the front or the back? He wants to sit in the front. As soon as I put the little one in the back, he realizes he actually meant to say the back. He only wants to sit in the back! Finally, everyone gets in their appropriate seats and we make the trek two houses down, which literally takes no time at all and feels completely silly to have this enormous stroller in tow. I park said stroller and he is now almost in tears because he wants to go back home. I’m back to bartering and telling him that we only have to stay for 30 minutes and if he’s not having fun we can leave. He already insists that it will not be fun and he doesn’t want to. He’s played with these kids before. I use the term played loosely because the last time, they came to our house and he spent most of the time in a different room, ignoring everyone. The point is that there isn’t a real reason he doesn’t like these kids or doesn’t want to play with them, as far as I’m concerned, he’s just being difficult.
I get him out of the stroller as I’m trying to convince him of all the fun we are going to have. And he starts walking home. Are. You. Kidding. Me?! No amount of sweet talk or harsh talk or any kind of talk is getting him to turn around and I quickly see that the only way I’m getting him into the house is by carrying him, kicking and screaming. And I did that yesterday, at preschool drop off, because Mondays. I get it, man. But seriously, every Monday?! And I just don’t have it in me, today. And I’m shaking mad because I’m about to let the 3 year old win, but in that moment, I just ran out of fight. And I fought back tears as I called the neighbor from her driveway and told her that we just couldn’t make it work, today.
And that started it. That was at 9:30 this morning. I pushed the little one back home in the double stroller and the big one walked. We got back inside our house and I sat on the floor in the kitchen and cried.
An hour and change later it was all smiles and giggles and getting excited about sandwiches for lunch. Like it never even happened. I was numb for the remainder of the day. The little one woke up first from her nap so I brought her down for some snuggles and to share some ice cream with me. Because sometimes ice cream is the answer, even if you have to share it. I wasn’t even mad when the big one peed in his bed at nap time (I sometimes think he does it on purpose because of his love for doing laundry, but surely he isn’t that vindictive, yet). We are still trying to figure all this potty business out. And then I didn’t even raise my voice when he then pooped in his (white, of course) underwear, a mere 20 minutes after having sat on the potty after nap time, discovered just after I had mustered the energy to get new sheets on his bed.
I cried again when my husband got home. And I giggled quietly with the little one as she got ready for bed and let the hubs tackle the big one. I gently reminded him that it wasn’t nice when he asked me to get out of his room when I went in to give him a goodnight kiss. And then I got out. And took a nice, long bath and thought about nothing for as long as I could stand. And then I signed up for a free Positive Parenting webinar for tomorrow night. Because maybe there is something I don’t know (clearly, there are things we all don’t know when it comes to parenting) and maybe it’s just a phase, but maybe there is something I can do so that my 3 year old is less of an asshole. And that, well, that would be something.
Some days, this mom business is truly hard, and no amount of lipstick or sparkly shoes or sugary words (or foods) will help. And those are the days that we learn something, anything, so that the next one isn’t so bad. Because we love these kids. And if there is anything we can do right as parents today, it’s to raise good kids. Or to at least try our very best. And I think we can all agree that no one wants to be raising assholes. The world, quite frankly, has enough of those, already.
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