I call this photo, "No." Just "No." Here he has the ability to suddenly weigh 100 lbs. and be magically stuck in quicksand.
I feel like lately all I can think to blog about is my little boy's cranky attitude. I think this is because, like with any other relationship you have with someone you love, your issues become mind consuming. Time consuming. Energy draining and nerve frying.
Like when you are young and your parents are driving you nuts (or hell, when you are an adult and your parents are driving you nuts!), or you and your boyfriend or husband aren't getting along or when a friend is draining you with her constant jabbering about her ongoing disfunctional relationship. Anytime a relationship starts to wear on you, if you really really care about it, you think about it a lot and let the problems get under your skin- you harp on it because you want to make it better but may not be sure how to- or you realize that you have to ride out the ebb because all things must surely (hopefully) pass eventually, and then it's a waiting game.
It's reassuring to know that Jude's terrible two'ness is temporary. I keep having to remind myself that. I have heard parents say, "No, it shouldn't be called the terrible twos. That's so negative- it's important to stay positive. We say terrific twos." Um, no. That's total bullshit. I'm sorry, but much of the time, it is not terrific. It is indeed terrible- with fleeting terrific cute stuff coming in spurts in between the terrible.
There is little negotiation and reason with these little people. It's a lot of terribly frustrating "Ah ah!' and "Omigod, seriously? Seriously????" moments.
It is terrible to be out at a restaurant and have your child freak the fuck out because a piece of pancake has fallen on the floor and he refuses to eat what's on his plate and only wants to fight you to climb under the table and eat the piece of pancake that has fallen on the floor.
It is terrible when your child comes running into the bathroom and throws an entire cup of water on you while you are sitting down to pee, then gets his feelings hurt and turns into unresponsive deadweight on the floor when you show your disapproval about it.
It is terrible when no other object in the house will make your child happy except for the teething ring that his baby sister is happily chewing on- therefore causing all hell to break loose because he has decided that it has suddenly become his sole property.
Those three things are just examples of what happened yesterday morning- and I don't have time to recount everything else- and this is mostly because I can't even count all of the terribleness from yesterday because there were too many incidents to remember them all.
After numerous "No Daddy!" protests, Taylor got to a couple of points yesterday when he just decided to jump ship altogether.
I wish that I had the option to bail like that, and go lay down to recharge, block out the noise and gather my wits, without asking what anyone else has to say about it. That must be super nice, dads. How is it that everyone in the house gets to take a Sunday nap except for me, the one person who doesn't get a full night's sleep?
Husband said, "Please don't hassle me about stuff today, I'm depressed."
"What? Because of the fucking football game? I have no sympathy for you."
Does my husband remember who he married? There is no get out of jail for free card because of a football game in my world- I don't care what game it was. I think he forgets that I could give two shits about OU football, or any football for that matter (I don't discriminate) - particularly when there is a wild baby animal child terrorizing my house.
After asking for a PBJ for lunch, and acting all excited about eating it, he ran away from it.
"I no want PBJ!" Here he has the ability to wedge himself in between furniture and become cemented between objects- impossible to pull out.
Attitude. Battle of the wills.
The cutest roadkill I've ever seen. We just walk over him when he does this, going along our way like one might steer clear of a dead squirrel in the street.
After our usual morning routine of him being a miserable whiney mess until we get to school, I felt a whole lot better- OK, I felt LOADS better- when I saw a couple of other parents trying to console their tantrum having kids outside of class. One little girl was having a spaz attack, attaching herself to her dad's leg and refusing to let go or shut up about it.
Hate to admit it, but it was a little bit of music to my ears.
What a sick sense of satisfaction it gave me.
My son is making a little insane I think.
