|I can't find any horns... yet.|
In a typical days, these are the things that H does to drive me nuts:
- Steals our phones.
- Moves furniture around so he can reach things he shouldn't.
- Dumps out all the toys.
- Throws all the diapers around the living room.
- Pulls his brother's clothes out of his drawers.
- Torments the cats.
- Jumps on furniture.
- Screams when you don't move right away when he wants something.
- Screams when he doesn't like what's on TV.
- Throws things at his older brother's head.
- Pushes buttons on the TV/DVD player/Wii/Cable box.
- Pulls the blankets of his and his brother's beds.
- Cries for no reason when he wakes up from his nap.
- Stands by me and screams when I'm trying to get his brother to go to sleep.
But it's tough. Some days by the time my husband gets home I don't even ask if it's okay to hide in the bedroom, I just do it. My nerves are shot, my brain is exhausted and my patience has packed up and moved to Siberia. I find myself at war with my conscience on a daily basis. I want a break from him and contemplate often sending him to some type of daycare a couple times a week just so I can have some peace. But then the conscience part of me worries that something bad could happen to him at daycare. I have yet to have a positive daycare experience in a facility-run one, and finding an in-home provider is tough as well because it would just be part-time and I'm very picky.
My conscience has won up until this point. I don't want to regret "sending him away," but at the same time I feel as though it isn't fair to my other children or my husband to be so stressed out that I have to hide out for hours until I can find some peace.
I also occasionally try to figure out if I have done something differently with him than I did with the first two, but I don't think I have. I often joke that he is the spawn of Satan, a demon child or the devil, but my husband gets annoyed when I say those things out loud (so shhhhh, don't tell him.) And coincidentally, he was the only child I had to have a c-section with and it was because he was upside down. Should that have been a sign? Has anyone done research on breech babies and toddler miscreants? If not, alert Harvard and have them get right on it.
The weekends are my salvation. My husband always lets me sleep in (which I milk as long as possible) and then there's an unwritten rule that he is responsible for H and I will gladly be responsible for the other 3, the housework, anything and everything, as long as I get a break from H. I worry I might resent him as he gets older just because of the hell he put me through as a toddler.
BUT, he does have a cute personality, he's funny and he is SO SMART. I truly believe (and I desperately want to believe) that there is hope that he won't become a juvenile delinquent and then go on to seek asylum in Russia when the federal government decides he is a threat to national security. Only time will tell, but until then... is there a medication to keep me from going crazy?