I want to crawl back into bed and cover up my head and start all over because I think I shall go completely mad by the end of the day and if I could just nip it in the bud, things might get better. Kale is really into pushing buttons these days – phones, remotes, lock boxes… but most especially MINE. And I’m letting him push them today, apparently, because I have referred to my lovely first born son twice already today under my breath as an a-hole. He’s being oh-so-toddlery and I think we should just change that word from toddler to small angry ruler of a country no one pays attention to because all he seems to do this past week is vacillate between demonically angry and frighteningly happy.
Kale is currently in his crib, yakking it up to his bear, his blanket, his whatever. He’s beating on the blinds in his room, kicking the wall through the bars. I’m hiding in our room, typing away on a BLOG ENTRY because for ten minutes, seriously, I need to escape. He’s got me so angry today that I know its better for all of us if we spend the next ten minutes like this – him chatteirng it up to himself and me typing out my frustrations. I can feel them flowing from my fingertips as I type this and my heart rate is slowing and I’m feeling considerably less angry.
Bonnie is sucking on her blanket in her bed, but she’s peaceful and at least mostly asleep. It’s only Kale who has decided that today is a perfectly good day to not nap, which coincides perfectly with an inordinate amount of work I need to complete. And again, here I am typing a BLOG ENTRY rather than doing it.
Today I’ve shouted at Kale, I’ve given him a time out. I’ve had to count to ten a thousand times. Today I actually googled “Anger Management Techniques for Parents”.
Now his chattering has turned to sad, piteous crying. Fake crying with real tears as he has convinced himself that he is hard done by and that he doesn’t need to sleep, doesn’t need to stay in his room for some quiet time.
Today, I need to take deep breaths and put on the happy, calm face of a parent who understands that he’s only a toddler, that he’s just developing and experimenting and that I need to just be calm and roll with it. Today, more than any other day in recent memory, I can’t seem to do that.
Deep breaths. This too shall pass. For the billionth time, please stop playing with the curtains.
Edit: immediately after finishing writing this, I went in to Kale’s room to remind him again that it was sleeping time. Blissfully, he said “okay”, lied down, and shut his eyes. Sometimes, this kid throws me a curve ball.