Don't delude yourself- it's the terrible one's, two's and three's!

H at 17 months.

Everyone has heard the phrase, "the terrible two's."  This is that mythical time in a toddler's life where they are supposedly at their worse behavior-wise.  The theory behind this is that they are unable to make their wants known verbally and it frustrates them, so the only way they respond is by being naughty, throwing tantrums and bringing their parents to the brink of insanity.

Well the terrible two's is a nice idea.  How great would it be if it magically started at 2 and ended by 3.  But it doesn't.  It starts around one and carries over until three.  I first learned this with my first son, L, when he started having fits and driving me crazy after he started walking.  I remember his favorite thing to do was pull things off the shelf and just walk away.  You couldn't leave the room without him getting upset and car rides were misery incarnate.  I told myself, "oh, his terrible two's started early."  Nope... it kept going, through two and the first part of three, when he started being able to communicate verbally.  He could entertain himself (or expected his older sister to entertain him) and I was able to function without him latched to my side.

Now we're at H's "early terrible two's."  Although a sweet child (L was too), there are times when I just want to run out into the street screaming until someone admits me to the psyche ward, just so I can have a break.  This is my husband's first child, so when he suggested that H's "terrible two's were coming early," I just laughed and laughed... poor naive fella.  H is 17 months old now and has been in this stage for several months.  It's that stage where you tell them no and they either laugh or cry.  You step one foot out of the room and they are immediately trying to grab your phone, drink, tv remote, plugs in the wall... they are sneaky.  It's the age of finding the package of wipes and pulling them all out and throwing them on the floor.  I can't leave the room without a fit being thrown, can't shut the bathroom door all the way or I have to listen to him ram into the door with his back.  While I shower, he opens the curtain and throws random things in.

But the most frustrating thing is the resistance to sleep.  Why do toddlers thing "nap" is a four letter word?  Naps are great!  We all know the holy terror that is a child who needs to go to sleep.  I call this being irrational.  H is on a routine where every morning around 9:30 am he starts being "irrational."  He cries over everything, gets frustrated and becomes inconsolable.  This is when I know he needs a quick break.  I make him a bottle and he lays in his bed, then comes running out in a better mood.  Then between 11-12, he becomes irrational again and IN THEORY this is when his nap should happen.  I give him another bottle and he lays in bed.  If the Gods are smiling upon me, he naps and it is usually for 2 hours.  But if I'm covered with clouds for the day, he refuses and no amount of bottles is going to change that.  Then he will hold out until like 3pm until he finally passes out after hours of being a demon spawn.

That about wraps up my point.  I have a sweet, loveable boy who is just adorable, but I'm becoming a pro at this mom thing and I don't want any new mommies deluding themselves into thinking the terrible two's only lasts a year.  I suggest you get through this three year phase by medicating yourself, getting a full-time job and leaving the kid with a sitter or else you could pray for patience and hope that it sticks.

First Day of School 2013

Today was the first day of school in my town.  A started second grade and L started kindergarten.  It

is funny, three years ago I was thinking about what freedom would taste like when L went into kindergarten because he was so needy... then I went and had H, who is even needier, so freedom is still several years away!

Lots of moms cry on the first day... I'm gonna guess it is because their "baby is growing up."  I guess I didn't inherit a gene that makes you feel that way.  I am looking forward to the day my kids graduate college and get a nice house so I can move in an mooch off of them until my dying day.  I can't wait until their 16th birthdays when they will get home from school and a stack of shiny job applications will be waiting on the table for them to fill out.

Back to the school thing... when A started kindergarten, I was confident that she would be fine.  She's already very independent and smart, so I knew she would do well even though it might be scary.  This year she complained all summer long about how much she hated school for this reason or that, but secretly I knew that she was excited to go back.  Yesterday at open house she got to see her class room and meet her teacher and she found out her BFF was in her class, so the giddiness was hard to contain.  And to my utter amazement, this morning she came out dressed and ready before I even had a chance to go wake her up! 

Then there is L.  He did not attempt to say he wasn't excited- he let it be known.  My worry for him was that he is less independent and loud, so he is shy when it comes to asking for help from strangers or meeting new kids.  Luckily his teacher seemed very nice and enthusiastic, so I think that will make things less stressful. 

So today I walked them into school for breakfast to pay their milk tickets and make sure L knew what to do.  Luckily A was being nice and helpful and telling him everything he needed to know about where to line up, get his card, let him know just because they give you something doesn't mean you have to eat it... then they sat together and ate breakfast and L even threw away both their plates.  But before I had a chance to say goodbye and have a nice day, they left for the playground and didn't look back.  I was a little surprised, but that was a good sign.

And now it is just H and I.  Fortunately (and a blessed miracle) he is napping, so I am getting to enjoy a small window of peace and quiet... 

Hooray for school!

Don't call me late for dinner... or a Stay at Home Mom!

I know I'm going to get lots of hate emails for this (ha, just kidding, no one emails me that reads my blog).  In case you are unfamiliar with the acronym SAHM, it stands for "stay at home mom." 

Now, don't get me wrong, I know SAHMs do a lot... for the most part.  (I've have seen quite a few "SAHMs" who think that means letting your child run rampant while they sleep all day, watch TV or drink/smoke.)  Although I don't think we all need to play martyrs and say that we never have a moment to do anything... I'm blogging right now while my 3 kids play... but it's okay, because I'm caught up on the laundry and the dishes... right?  Isn't that how I'm supposed to justify spending a little time on me?

But I hate being called a SAHM.  For me, it feels like a punishment.  I would rather be out doing a job that I love... do I love my kids?  Of course, I do!  Do they annoy me a lot?  Of course, they do!  Now, don't sit there saying, "oh, but there are people out there who don't have children who would love to be annoyed..."  Gag me.  I get it.  Poor them.

So, here I find myself stuck at home with my 3 kids this summer and more than likely next fall as well.  It is one of those moral dilemmas where I find myself acknowledging that no one else can take care of my children as well as I do, and finding someone I completely trust with Baby H is very difficult.  I had someone pretty great last semester, but she had to move to Florida!  The next person I found was a weirdo.  (Daytime, not evening babysitter).  So, I feel as though I must suck it up for the time being and accept this SAHM position, but I don't have to like it.  My goal is to finish my MA, which all I have left is the thesis/capstone, so I can teach classes online and substitute teach during the day.  But until my youngest is old enough to go to school or I find someone not weird and super reliable, I'm stuck.

I can give you stories from both sides of the coin.  Mom A was a SAHM until her last went to school and as all her kids got older, they disrespected her, cursed at her, made her cry and have no real relationship with her as adults.  Mom B was a workaholic.  Her kids generally didn't see her until 5pm and when she was home she was busy grading papers, reading books... some of her kids were closer to her as adults, but don't remember her being present much as children.

So which is the way to go?  Is there a happy medium?  Honestly, I think it is all about how you treat your children when you are with them.  Good parents are good parents, regardless of the number of hours in a day spent with their kids.  I want mine to grow up to be smart, kind, hard-working, good citizens, who are productive members of society.  If that means I have to sacrifice sanity and stay at home with them so they aren't subject to the outside influence of lackluster caretakers... then so be it.

Will my kids treat me well as they get older?  Only time will tell, but at least I can say that I tried.  And then they will turn 18 and I will be free.