Friday, May 10, 2013

Joys of Parenting: I love you, but I don't have to like you.

This morning I walked in on the boy about to chuck a skate board at my cowering dog.
Is it any wonder why she's starting a new regime of Prozac?
Honestly, I am not sure how I have remained Prozac free till this point!

Anyway back to the cowering dog....
In an instant I was scared for her safety,
mortified in thinking that my son might be a serial killer, 
(because I have seen every episode of Dexter, and isn't this how it all started)
and I was screaming "STOP" at the top of my lungs.
All of those emotions were wrapped up in a general feeling of WTF is going on here.

Needless to say, a time-out was in order, which was pre-ceeded by one of the boys current hobbies:

"The Balls to The Wall, I am going to Fuck Your Day UP, Mega Tantrum"

While lengthy, that is actually the official name.  This tantrum will have you pacing the kitchen wondering why people have children.  You will start thinking of all your kid-free friends, jealous of what they are doing on the sunny Friday morning.  Because what ever it is, it's got to be better than this.

After I had taken my punches and scratches, and warngled him back into his room for a "big time-out"came the onslaught of "I hate you"'s and "I want a new mom"'s.  Really kid?  What have I done wrong here? 

 I have learned that the best way for me to cope with this is to stand directly on the other side of the wall, well out of sight, and then just give him the old double bird.  That's right folks, I flick my kid off when he's not watching.  And it helps.

I then pro-ceeded to deep clean my kitchen and mop the entire house.  If you live under the Trumble roof, you know that the more vigorously I am cleaning, the more pissed I am.  There is a direct correlation.  This is when I think of all you non-breeders again.  Your damn happy hours and adult conversations. 

One 20 minute temper tantrums, and One clean house later, it all changed. 
One stinking Facebook Status turned my day around.
It dropped into my lap like a gift from above...
A sign of hope.
Word that a fellow Mommy of an almost 4 year old boy understands.  It's like she's sending me smoke signals.  It either translates: 
It's O.K!
I want to kick his ass.


We will be O.K!
This too shall pass.

I am not sure, I was never to good with smoke signals, or morris code for that matter, but I am pretty sure it was the latter.  Either way, I knew I wasn't alone.  Her little dude was giving her a run for her money.  And whether she realized it or not this meant that we were in it together.  She gave me hope.  We could do this. We could get passed the whole WWF dog situation.  We could start fresh with our day.  And I'll be damned if we didn't turn that B around.  

In the end I realized two things,
1.  I will always love you little boy, but I don't always have to like you.
2.  No matter how pissed you make me, you always know how to turn that around.
And hey, the silver lining, my kitchen is spotless!

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