Tag: tantrum

bad day, mommyhood, tantrums, terrible threes

Oh Smack!

WFAM

I had this crazy idea that I would take the boys for haircuts. They have been rocking the mohawk look and it’s amazing how quickly it grew out. My plan was to pick Full Speed up from school and take both boys directly to the children’s salon. It is a pretty fantastic set-up. There’s a foosball table, an indoor climbing structure with a slide and an endless array of cool vehicles to sit in and watch Nickelodeon while getting your hair trimmed. They had a splendid time. I played foosball with Full Speed who insisted he was winning no matter how many times I scored. “That one didn’t count, Mom, only mine did,” (of course). Little T.Puzzle took to the slide like a fish to water (more fish similies later; I know you can’t wait but don’t get your gills in a tangle). They both did great for their trim and I was feeling really glad to have it done. Haircuts usually eat into our precious, weekend family time and I had just saved us the hassle. Win, win for sure.

Until,… it was time to leave. Little T.Puzzle absolutely refuses to leave and makes a scramble for the back of the slide structure. He is just about out of reach when I manage to grab his leg. He immediately starts screaming. Full Speed tries to help and yanks on the other leg. Full Speed accidentally tugs off little T.Puzzle’s croc in this muddled process. I see that this is a hot-button for T.Puzzle because he is really starting to lose it. As I manage to wrestle him into my arms (and by now, a crowd of sorts has gathered to watch the show), little T.Puzzle throws his arm back and smacks me squarely on the face.

I take him outside and all hell breaks loose. He’s screaming so loud I can’t think straight. I try to maneuver him to a time-out spot and quickly realize that he is violently flopping about like a dying fish so I can’t. I scoop him up and head to the truck. I grab his other croc from his foot and say he can’t have them back because he slapped me.

He is inconsolable. He cries and yells the whole way home. He is so upset he almost makes himself vomit. I get him home, send him to his room and try to regroup.

This is all stuff I’ve seen before. This isn’t the first time I’ve been smacked by one of my sons (hopefully it’s the last) and this isn’t the first outrageous tantrum I’ve endured.

But seriously, isn’t it enough already?

children, mommyhood

Hope for Tomorrow

WFAM

I was home alone with the boys for the evening. It was going okay. I had taken them to the park to run some energy out so I think that helped. It didn’t help that they kept trying to knock each other’s glasses off each other’s faces, but the release of energy was good.

During dinner, they both started to get kind of sassy. Instead of finishing his plate like I asked, Full Speed tossed his unfinished food on the floor. The kicker is, he tried to claim he was ‘all done!’ I was praising him left and right until my eye caught the discarded food. I was not too pleased. Then, Little T.Puzzle decided not to sit still and eat his turkey. He had to be ‘coached’ considerably to finish his food while sitting nicely.

As I was preparing the boys for the end-of-the-day bath, they started to get very rambunctious (shocker, isn’t it?). I gave them my spiel that they had to follow the rules of the tub (sort of like the rules of the road but soapier). The first brother who broke a rule would have to immediately go to bed.

You know the rules were broken even before I wrote this, didn’t you? All little T.Puzzle did was toss a ball at his brother’s head. It didn’t even really hit Full Speed and I don’t even think Full Speed realized what happened. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to follow through on my threat for this slight infraction.

I grab him from the tub and tell him it’s bedtime. He sobs uncontrollably and says he’s ‘sorry!’ over and over. Big tears splash down his face and do nothing to quell his wails of torment. I put his pjs on him, brush his teeth and place him in bed. He proceeds to lament for the next twenty minutes. A very long twenty minutes I might add.

Eventually, I go upstairs and convince him to calm down. I explain that he needs to make good choices, listen to his Mommy and that tomorrow will be a better day. He quiets himself but seems incredulous that tomorrow will be better (especially with a Mom who is so ‘mean’).

I sure hope tomorrow is better, or that at least it produces fewer tears for all of us.