247 days without yelling, 118 days of loving more to go!
Sometimes, you just have to go with it. Laugh and remember that you too once were a little sh*t ESPECIALLY at times when your mom was losing it and yet she still loved you. In fact, you continue to be a little sh*t and your mom still loves you. So give your son a break.
The Orange Rhino
It was 7:57 sometimes last week, exactly 23 minutes before I had to head out of the house with my darling, beloved Kindergartner It had been a peaceful morning thus far. No tears. No punches. No “mommy he did this!!!” No complaints about breakfast. All was going well. And it looked like I would actually leave for school on time that morning.
And then it happened. The “don’t-get-all-cocky-parenting-Gods” heard my thought and cast a spell on my house.
“MOMMMY! MOMMMY! MOMMMY!” #3 screamed hysterically while sobbing.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Gone. GONE! GONE!”
“What honey? I can’t understand you, I’m sorry.” (#3’s speech is improving but when he is hysterical, forget about it).
“Gggggone. It. ggggone. Mkr.”
I surveyed his surroundings to figure out what the heck he was talking about. I had NO bloomin’ clue. Every word I suggested he screamed NO, NO, NOOOO! His screams became even more intolerable to the point where my ears were ringing and #1 had to get earmuffs. There was no deciphering his screams, there was no stopping his screams, there was no relief. Just an absolute desire to scream back even louder.
I cautiously went over to him, hoping he wouldn’t throw his breakfast at me in frustration (yes, that HAS happened). I tried to pick him up to hug him and calm him. He just kicked and hit as hard as possible until I had no choice but to put him down and watch him flail and sob uncontrollably. #3 has made much progress. Much much much progress. But when he loses an item he is attached to he goes apoplectic. Absolutely apoplectic and it sucks.
Then he stopped.
Silence fell upon him.
“MARKER! MARKER! Found!”
There under the kitchen cabinet was his brand new white marker. Phew I thought, we can get back to our nice quiet, gift of a morning. The “don’t-get-all-cocky-parenting-Gods” heard my thought and decided to rattle my morning, again.
Sh*t. It started again.
This time I knew the problem. He didn’t have just 1 new marker. He had two. Operative word being HAD two. At this moment he only had one.
I dropped to my hands and knees and frantically looked under the changing table, under the kitchen carpet, under the other cabinets. I went to the bathroom where he had been moments before and looked in the toilet, behind the toilet, in the sink. It had to be somewhere. It just had to be. Markers don’t just get up and walk away you know. No luck. I came back to the kitchen and crawled under the kitchen table and searched under the chairs, in the heating vent.
Shrill screaming continuing in my ears and I had had it. I went to stand up and scream back, forgetting I was under the table.
BAM! I slammed my head on the table. Crap. This morning had turned to CRAP!
“#3, get over it. It’s just a marker.” I snapped as I rubbed my throbbing head.
I looked closely at #3, tears now rolling down his puffy cheeks and starting to form in my own. Oh how I hate it when my son is like this; I hate the frustration he feels. I hate the frustration I feel. I hate not being able to help him, to soothe him. I was tired of looking for the darn marker but I wanted to help my son, I wanted to save him from an even worse meltdown. So where’s a mom to look?
The trash can, obviously.
Markers don’t walk away BUT 14 month olds walk away with things and put them in the trash. Sleeves up, I dug. And dug. Through taco meat, black beans, yogurt, wet paper towels and more. Yuck. Are you kidding me? All this for a marker? No. All this for love.
Just then #1 sauntered over.
“What ya doing mom?” he sweetly asked, darn well knowing what I was doing.
“Looking for #3’s marker.”
Then I looked at my eldest son closer. I noticed a twinkle in his eye. Make that both eyes. And I noticed fidgeting hands in his pocket. He need not say a word. I knew what the answer to my next question was going to be.
“#1, do you have #3’s marker?”
And voila! He presented the damn white marker I had just banged my head over, washed my hands in trash over, almost lost my cool over.
“Are you f*****g kidding me?”I thought to myself.
“Have you had this marker all along?”
Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.
“Are you f*****g kidding me?” I thought to myself again.
And then I giggled, giggled, giggled too.
Because at that moment I was just so relieved to have found the pen that I could have cared less that I now smelled like a trash can and my eldest had just played a joke on me.
Because at that moment I knew I would make my third son smile again, that I would fill his little heart with joy and that was way more important to me than being annoyed with my other son.
Because at that moment love trumped anger.