Lest you think this is a lovely, touchy feely, Sound of Music inspired entry... let me disabuse you of that notion promptly. I love sarcasm and "favorite things" is sarcastic here. Well, mostly.
I was telling my in-laws the other day (to make them feel happy that parental curses do indeed come true and we have children JUST LIKE OURSELVES) about the two things William does that make me CRAZY just like I drove my mom crazy. Now, let me define crazy here. I don't mean those slightly annoying things children do that make you sigh, take your own time-out, or make you raise your voice. I mean face-red, hyperventillating, eyes-popping-out, shouting so loud the neighbors wonder CRAZY!
#1 - talking back. Now, you say, all children talk back. No no folks, no no. Not like this. William keeps talking and talking and talking and shouting and interrupting and muttering. Let me give you an example.
Me: William go potty and get dressed we have to take Tante (that's my sister) to work
William: I'm too tired.
Me: William we have 20 minutes (seems like enough time, doesn't it? keep reading) go potty and get dressed
William: No.
Me: William DO NOT tell mommy no. You do not argue with mommy. One more no and you get a time out. Now go!
William: It will take too long
Me: WILLIAM!! What is taking too long is you TALKing to me about it rather than doing it, GO POTTY AND GET DRESSED.
William: But I don't want to.
Me: Time OUT! Sit your BUTT down.
William: But we have to go get Tante.
Me: WILL-YUM! Time out and then use the potty and get dressed, we have 10 minutes!
William: FINE! (in the time out and muttering under his breath)... "i'm so tired, this is taking forever. I'm going to just stay here"
Me: What?! No talking in time out.
William: I wasn't talking
Me: You JUST DID. QUIET!!! I don't want one more word
William: But
Me: Zip it!
William: Bu..
Me: SHUT IT! Stop TALKING. STOP. Jeeezus!
William: Mommy don't say Jesus.
Me: (slowly) William. We. Have. 5. Minutes. Get up. Go Potty. Get dressed. Do. Not. Speak. Just. Get. Dressed.
William: Okay mommy. He goes to the bathroom. I hear a flush, sounds of hand washing and then, muffled from behind the door. "I don't like this shirt..."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
#2 - Staring. My mom and step-dad like to tell a story of my mom going so crazy because we would not do what she asked us to do that she began heaving ALL her shoes down the hallway while screaming at the top of her lungs. This used to be funny to me. Now I know. Worse than William outright saying No or talking back is "the stare". William will choose to stare at me as though I have spoken another language. He doesn't walk away. He doesn't cry or scream. He doesn't protest. He stands stock-still and STARES at me as though I have seriously just spoken in another language. It makes me CRAZY. Shoe-throwing, so-help-me-God, C-R-A-Z-Y. Here's a sample from our past.
Me: William go potty.
He stands frozen, in the middle of the playroom, a quizzical look on his face.
Me: William!? Did you hear me? Go Potty.
Nothing. Frozen. Quizzical look has changed to mild concern. Perhaps he's thinking I'm going to have a fit.
Me: WILLIAM!! Go! If I reach 3 and you're not on that potty, you'll lose all your Star Wars guys, now go!
Still nothing. Starting to tear up. Frozen like an animal stuck in quicksand.
Me: One
Nothing.
Me: Two!
He's looking around, almost panicked, but still not moving.
Me: You'd better move, mister!
Frozen.
Me: THREEE! That's it, no more Star Wars guys.
Tears now... but still frozen.
Me: William, do you want to lose your baseball stuff next (he LOVES baseball).
Nothing.
Me: Fine you've lost all the baseball stuff too! Now Go!!!!!
Now's he's crying loudly but still not moving or using any intelligible words. I'm totally at a loss. I finally grab him by the arms and start lugging him toward the bathroom. He begins screaming like I've dismembered him, yelling "ow! We stop.
Me: Well, what is WRONG with you? Don't you understand me? I asked you a million times!
He's staring again and silent. I LOSE it.
Me: Am I speaking ENGLISH?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!!! I said go potty! When I say go potty, YOU. GO. POTTY. You don't stand there staring at me like you don't understand English. You GO!!!! What is wrong with you? Go, Go, Go, Go, GOOOOO! NOW!
Still frozen, tears rolling down his face. I feel like a total shit because I have made him cry but I'm freaking out because I can't make him move and I'm starting to understand the temptation to hit and it frightens me.
Me: Jesus Christ William, forget it! Pee your pants. I'm going downstairs. I can't take this anymore. Mommy needs a time out.
William: (finally a response) Mommy, don't say Jesus Christ. It's not nice.
Me: (under my breath) seriously? kill me now.
William: what? are you just kidding mommy?
Me: (sighing) William, just go potty.
William: okay. trots off as though the last few minutes haven't happened.
Meanwhile, I need to shower, re-comb my hair and go away because I have worked myself into a tizzy of gigantic proportions. I walk downstairs and take calming breaths, pace a little, throw some pillows or shoes and try to talk myself into calming down and letting it go. I'm exhausted and I want to crawl in bed. And it's only 7:30 a.m.
The last part of the above situation brings to mind my current "favorite thing" that I do actually love. William is starting to get sarcasm and he is now often saying "are you just kidding?". Mike and I find this hysterically funny (usually) and love to joke with him now just to hear him say it. Like the other day he fell down and was over-doing the crying thing so I told him we'd have to remove his butt and get him a new one since it seemed to be so injured. The tears dried up, he smiles and says, "are you just kidding mommy?" Kills me. Or Mike will say something about food like, "well, we'll just feed you buffalo then" and William will look at him, totally unsure and say, "are you just kidding Daddy?" in a hopeful voice.
And finally, on a serious note. I read a horrible story the other day about a boy in Utah who was killed and buried my his step-father and mother... most likely because they couldn't handle a 4 year old's antics (they didn't have custody, he was visiting). I then read a blog post by a father that he wrote as an apology to his son (after reading about the boy in Utah) for losing his patience and yelling when the boy tore his pants or wouldn't go to sleep or made a mess while eating or splashed too much in the bath or wiggled to much in his chair at dinner. The man said, "I'm sorry for expecting you to act like a man, when you are just a little boy. I will adjust my expectations to your age instead of mine. I'm sorry son. Forgive me. I will be a better father. I will be more patient. Parenting is harder than I thought. But let me instead be thankful for each day I have you." I cried reading this because I had just freaked out about William sitting too far back in his chair at the table and thus spilling food off his fork. I realized, I too can forget that what makes sense to me, just doesn't yet occur to a 3-almost-4 year old. I realized I too need to adjust my expectations and instruct patiently, rather than just expecting him to know or to remember instantly a lesson that will take him years to learn because his memory just isn't that long. I realized he tries so hard to please and one just impatient word from me, one insult can just crush him. So next time he spits toothpaste down his shirt instead of into the sink, or in his excitement for life jumps down from his chair before being excused, or forgets to say please, or bowls over his sister while playing with her... I will remember. He needs reminding, he needs patience, he needs instruction and he needs me to try to be the best mom possible even if I'm tired, rushed, sick or in need of a break. I will remember to be thankful for him. Because each day I have him, I am lucky. I have been blessed with a son. One who loves me unconditionally. One who deserves to be allowed to learn, grow, fall and make mistakes without judgement. So one day if you read this William... I am lucky, I'm sorry when I lost patience. And you are a great little boy.
No comments:
Post a Comment