Since being potty trained, Jude has gotten really into his boy parts- like I imagine most little boys do.
He’s grown so accustomed to whipping it out in the backyard that his first day of school he peed on a tree on the playground- and I have to admit, I was proud of him for at least not peeing his pants.
At bedtime, I’ve started doing a breathing exercise with him like I once learned to do in yoga during savasana, to help wind him down. We relax all our body parts one by one and recite them in a whisper as we go. After each regular part, Jude loves to cry out, “Relax the wee wee!” or “Relax the little balls!” and die laughing. Then we have to start all over, with me dying laughing too. I can’t remember who it was that said “little balls” in front of him, but he inherently caught onto the phrase and thinks it’s hilarious. I guess because it is?
He wakes up every morning with one or sometimes both of his hands down the front of his pants like Al Bundy. Last night I went in to check on him like I always do before I go to bed, and found him sleeping peacefully on his back with both hands stuffed down the front of his pajama shorts. I tried to carefully maneuver them out, but he stirred, tightened his grip on whatever it was he had ahold of, opened his eyes and looked at me all crazy-like, growling “Nooooooo,” and flopped over, face down into his pillow, both hands still in his pants, and went back to sleep.
So I let him be.
He’s been notorious for his shitty attitude around bedtime since he was a little baby. Goes down pissed off that he has to go to bed- wakes up pissed off that he has to rise and meet the day. It takes everything I have not to either lose my cool or laugh at him when he freaks out- particularly in the wee hours of the day, because I myself am not by any means a morning person. This has been one of the biggest tests for me as a mom. I have personally experienced starting my day off with a parent who wallows in his shitty morning attitude, and I know first hand how that can rub off on a child and tarnish what would have been a good day.
This being said, Jude and his Poppa Yates should sit down and discuss this over a couple of chocolate milks.
I try my damndest to stay cool, keep calm, keep positive and friendly and brush off his arguing, whining, crying, kicking, screaming, moaning, objecting and whimpering.
“Not that pants!”
“No, not that undies!”
“Jude try, JUDE TRY!” ……
“No Mommy try, MOMMY TRY!!!!”
He looks a lot like his Caucasian daddy most of the time- but the Asian really comes out in his eyes and he looks a lot more like yours truly when he’s laughing or sleepy or angry.
A couple of mornings ago, he woke up extra pissed off, greeting me by shouting, “No Mommy!” and throwing his pillows and stuffed animals at me when I walked through his bedroom door. He barrel rolled around the bed, kicking and whining with his hands down his pants- refusing to let me undress him and get ready for school. When he finally stopped, he looked at me with a stink eye and muttered, “It’s Wednesday,” started crying and rolled over and buried his face back in his pillow.
WTH? How is it possible that my 2 year old has mutated into a hands-constantly-in-his-pants, grumpy teenage boy?
Usually a couple of waffles and some orange juice makes everything better- and he’s back to his smiley, silly self, randomly hugging my legs, laughing and dancing and singing and making me feel terrible for all of the not so nice mommy things that ran through my head while wrestling him into his day.
Please Jude- Pookie Bear- love of my life… would it kill you to wake up happy one morning and give me a break? Pleeeease?
