Every morning when my son, Weston, awakes, either my husband or I gather him from his crib and return him to our bed where we cuddle and wrestle together before greeting the real world. It’s become a family ritual and is truly my favorite part of the day. I get to watch my son and my husband roll all over the bed, laughing and giggling together. My son is usually sweet and loving as he lay next to us, exploring our faces with his tiny fingers. Its the quiet before the storm. I know once we leave the sanctuary of our bed I will have to deal with the impending tears, spills, falls, tantrums, and everything else that comes with having a toddler. I know that within five minutes of said bliss I will have to try and put my mascara on while somehow keeping Wes from swimming in the toilet…and so I cherish every last second of our beautiful morning observance.
So when I went away on business last week I was bummed that I missed out on some morning snuggle sessions. When I finally saw my son I was horrified. Not only did a new haircut make him look much older but we was being seriously whining and ornery and violent! Im talking full on intended malice.
Uh, did I come home to the wrong house? Who the hell was this stranger in my bed? Who was this little SOB with that look of spiteful determination? What the hell happened to my perfect, sweet, cherub? Okay so he’s not perfect but this was just a totally different kid. I felt like I was staring straight at Chucky. It’s amazing what a 24 hour period means in the life of a child…
Now, this is the shit that completely puts me over the edge. It’s not the lack of sleep or the fact that my house looks like squatters live in it. What drives me bat shit crazy is how schizo kids are. I mean really. How the hell am I supposed to keep up with this emotionally volatile Dr. Jekel? One minute I’m on a magic carpet ride. The next, I’m on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. Hold me. No don’t hold me. Hug me. Get the fuck off me. More eggs. MORE eggs. MORE EGGS!!! Why the hell are you serving me eggs? And it’s super convenient that these little mood swings can happen on the drop of a dime and most likely in public. I mean really…someone please shoot me.
The worst part is that I absolutely HATE how I feel about my son and myself in those moments. I loathe the fact that I am repulsed or impatient or whatever the negative feeling is that I’m experiencing towards him. And then I resent that negative emotion and feel guilty and start talking to myself about what a horrible mother I am. And then I want to run up and kiss him for thinking such bad thoughts but I can’t because he is completely having a meltdown and I don’t want to reinforce bad behavior. So I’m stuck feeling like an asshole, watching him act like a maniac. It’s like one big viscous circle that I can’t escape until he decides he likes the damn eggs that I made him and/or he’s done being a tyrant and want’s a hug. Ugh. I think I’m going insane….
How do you handle this lovely little aspect of parenting? I’m running out of ideas and my wine habit isn’t enough to carry me through. Help!