Some days, it is painfully obvious how unprepared I am at this whole parenting thing.
Like yesterday. It's 4:30 pm on a one nap day (a fitful, short nap, at that). I'm sitting on the floor attempting to play with G, pushing around his little yellow school bus singing 'Wheels on the Bus.' He seems relatively content, until he accidentally pushes the button on the bus that makes it talk. For some inexplicable reason, he gets very angry when that bus talks. I think it is because he is not very consistent at finding the correct button to make it go 'My stop sign is R-R-Red!' or 'My lights are BR-br-bright!'
So, the accidental pushing of the correct button usually leads to utter frustration, then anger, then tantrum.
Yesterday was not different. Except, at the height of the tantrum, he picks up the bus and THROWS IT AT MY HEAD.
Then, if that wasn't enough, he takes a run at me, fists a-flailing, and lands a few before I got hold of both his wrists.
'No. That hurts Mommy. Ouch.' I said, still holding his wrists.
And then he screams, one of the dog whistle variety. And continues trying to hit and bite me.
This went on for about five minutes. I could not calm him down. I couldn't reason with him. The only thing I could think of was a time out. And the only place that he stays contained is his crib.
'You need to calm down.' I explained, as I set him in his crib.
For thirty minutes he jumped, yelled and screamed. I pulled out the vacuum to drown out the noise for a bit. I was feeling pretty defeated and upset. Why is he so ANGRY? Did I do something? Am I messing him up?
When I turned the vacuum off, the level of ruckus coming from his room had diminished. He was sitting in his crib, talking to his stuffed animals. I figured now was a good time get him out, as he was behaving in an acceptable manner.
His face was puffy and tear stained, but he smiled at me when I opened his door.
'You okay, buddy?' He stood up and reached for me. And we had a relatively mellow evening waiting for Daddy to come home.
Stuff like this makes me feel like such a novice. Like I'm doing irrevocable harm to him. I know that we're both learning together. He is my starter child. The guinea pig. It sounds awful, but its kind of the truth!
I don't know if some moms just aren't forthright about how their children really behave, or if I truly have a handful. Is this normal for a boy? All my girlfriends have little girls. And from what I can tell, they tend to be a little less aggressive, a little more mellow. Though I have a feeling I'll be liking the whole boy thing a lot better once they all hit puberty.
And then there are a few blogs I've read (note past tense) that paint this picture of perfect children, perfect home, perfect life. Are these people for real? Are their kids all Benedryl-ed up? Is mommy eating a little Xanax for breakfast? Because if not, I think they're painting a rosy picture.
You know what? I'm all for honesty. If I can make someone else feel more normal and less like they're creating a future sociopath with mommy issues, that is fabulous.
Oh, and by the way, I will be taking the batteries out of the bus. Or ACCIDENTALLY running it over five times.