Category: bad day

bad day, mommyhood, potty training

Under Fire

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My day was bad. T.Puzzle was oh-so-defiant from the moment his feet hit the ground in the morning. This got old. Fast.

I continued to attempt to potty-train him. He has mastered peeing on the potty. He still will not poop on the potty. Fifty-percent just isn’t cutting it.

You may wonder why it is not. How about the twenty-seven loads of poop related laundry I’ve done in the past seven days for starters? Or, maybe the crying, the tears and anguish (I’m talking about me, now) that poop-smeared socks have caused.

I spent a good portion of my morning with T.Puzzle screaming and crying while sitting on the potty. After about an hour of this, I gave up. I took off his pants and decided to let it go. It is becoming too much of a struggle and we both are miserable. I hoped he would give some sort of signal that he was about to poop since he had no pants. He did not.

He pooped all over the floor.

I’m giving it one more chance. The next time he poops anywhere but a potty, we are going back to pull-ups.

Everyone has their two cents. Everyone has what worked for them. Everyone apparently has children who were miraculously potty-trained in two days.

I don’t want advice. I want help cleaning up all the mess that potty-training leaves behind.

I was so frustrated I had to put him to bed for a nap (he quickly fell asleep) and go sit out on the lanai. I felt so angry. I can’t believe history is repeating. Here I am, a perfectly nice lady, stuck with kid number two who refuses to do a number two. He most likely will be nearing four years old before he decides it’s time. Exactly like his brother before him. Ugh!!!

I called Mad Dog at work and let loose a tirade of frustration. He listened patiently and said, “You’ll break this one, too. You broke the first two (meaning himself and Full Speed), you can do it again.”

Until that happens, I have to let certain things go (like potty-training) and muster the strength to continue to battle it out with T.Puzzle (and keep Full Speed in check, too). Raising two boys is not a walk in the park. It’s more like a full-on sprint while dodging heavy, artillery fire (and poop, too!).

bad day, children, mommyhood, tantrums

6:00 Sharp

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Since I have been slacking in many areas with the boys because I have been sick; I wanted to get back in the swing of things by preparing an actual meal for the boys. They have had so much processed, fast food lately I’m worried that they may turn into chicken nuggets.

Full Speed determined he ‘didn’t like’ the main course of pasta, peas and turkey sausage and proceeded to fight me tooth and nail about ingesting it. Little T.Puzzle decided he didn’t want raisins (I know you are impressed by this gourmet side dish). Not only was he passionately against eating the raisins, he didn’t even want them touching his plate and screamed and cried because I ignored his tearful requests (trust me, the kid’s had raisins before AND lived). Then he decided he didn’t want the beverage I chose for him. He was in and out of time-out like a revolving office door on a busy day.

After several threats, Full Speed got his act together (a little bit) but T.Puzzle spiraled deeper into his abyss of contempt. He was mad that Grandpa was sitting in ‘his chair’ in the living room. I told him to get over himself. Grandpa offered to move but I drew the line. T.Puzzle was simply not going to get his way.

Since time-outs in the dining room corner were not making a dent in his hysteria, I changed tactics and moved him upstairs to his room. He was already at a level 10 and spewing snot like a fountain. I had to sit on the other side of his door to keep it shut. He was beside himself.

After ten very long and tense moments, he calms himself enough that I can engage him in conversation. “If you stop crying and pull it together, you can come downstairs. You need to apologize to Mom first,” I say.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he bleats over and over.

He’s reasonable enough now that I think I can take him downstairs. No sooner than we cross the threshold of the living room than the level 10 tantrum commences. I call ‘uncle.’

It’s 6:00 sharp do you know where your kids are? I know one of mine is smack-dab in the middle of his bed and won’t be seen until morning.

bad day, children, life in pictures, mommyhood

The Sick Card

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I know that motherhood is not always a cake-walk. You have to suffer through the bad to get to the good stuff. My challenge today is that as of lately with little T.Puzzle, there only seems to be a whole lot of suffering (for him and for me) and very little good. He has been sick on and off since Thanksgiving. I’m keeping him home again from school hoping this will help get him back on track. He is clearly feeling surly. The only thing that consistently is keeping him happy are DVDs of Thomas the Train. If he is not watching Thomas he is mad, defiant and dropping level 9 tantrums all over the place.

I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to be extra patient and not fight him on every behavioral misdeed (which I normally do, just ask Full Speed). At what point does the sick card lose its validity? Now I have a feeling that since I have given him an inch behaviorally, he has taken a mile, a town, a city and possibly the whole state of Florida.

The only thing I know for certain is that when this kid is 100% healthy, he best prepare himself for some serious attitude readjustment courtesy of his mother.

Get well soon.

bad day, health, mommyhood, self care (or lack thereof)

A Frightful Sight

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Starting off the new year has been a bit rough. All family members have been displaying varying symptoms of illness. I think the post pic of T.Puzzle properly captures how we all are feeling (bad and sad).

I am a Type-A personality. Unfortunately, I do not have the physical constitution to withstand the demands of having this type of personality. When I get sick, I get hit hard. Call it stress, call it being run-down, or call it whatever, I hit a serious rough patch about seven p.m. My body aches had reached a level 9 and my throat pain was at about a 7. The chills I was experiencing were out of this world. I was heading into the 72 hour range of having flu symptoms and was downright miserable.

Inevitably, Mad Dog and I discussed how to get me medical intervention. After some heated discussion (heated only on my part because of my 100.5 fever), the best solution was to call TeleDoc. It is a service offered through Mad Dog’s insurance that will diagnose your ailments through a phone call and if they deem necessary, call in a prescription for you.

I was offered Tamiflu (an antiviral) and took it. Mad Dog was sent out into the night to our 24 hour pharmacy to get it. I took it and felt an immediate improvement in body aches and fever (my throat is still killing me). Tamiflu is a slight contradiction. It can cause nausea which is awfully counterproductive if you felt nauseous in the first place. However, since it improved my symptoms overall I’m not going to knock it.

I now realize real love is blind. As I sat at the table yesterday feebly attempting to consume some food, I was surrounded by my three guys. I hadn’t showered in three days, had the same clothes on from the day I first got sick and my face had broken out. No one at the table cared. They were happy to see me even if to look at me was a little frightening.

bad day, children, health, parenting

No Slime, Please

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Why is it that men lose all ability to function at the first sign of puke? Why is it that while I am comforting a spewing little three year old that I am also supposed to have the where-with-all to instruct Mad Dog in great detail?

T.Puzzle had a rough night. He was up fussing a couple times and was whiny and full of whimpers. We brought him in bed with us in the morning to offer him some solace from his obvious misery. He flailed about and when I got up with him, he let out a cry and vomit soon followed. He managed to get most of it in a bowl, but I did get a nice portion down the length of my arm and a healthy dose landed on the carpet.

“Some help, please!” I shout to Mad Dog who is still lying in bed.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

T.Puzzle is still heaving miserably, I have slime on me and I’m trying to remain calm. This is all happening so fast that it frustrates me to turn my energy and focus on to how Mad Dog can help.

“I don’t know…., get some wipes, get a towel, just get SOMETHING!”

In his defense (and it pains me to write this ladies), he thought that T.Puzzle was puking in the bowl we already had out and that I had everything under control. We were out of Mad Dog’s line of sight so he missed seeing the puke on the floor, on my arm and the gurgly mess seeping from T.Puzzle’s poor nose (yeah, for all you non-parents out there, it sometimes comes out their noses which of course is superfun).

I know that we all have our moments to shine and we each contribute different strengths and abilities to the whole of parenting. However, just once I’d love to be the parent who isn’t getting slimed.