The Punishment, Terrible Two's and Tantrums

Warning:
This blog contains jaw dropping material . . .
teeth grinding, hair pulling, it's 5 o'clock somewhere content.

Reader discretion is advised.

My goal by writing this is to, 
A. Attempt to relieve my own stress, and
B. Let other parents know that if you are dealing with hard times with your kids that you are not alone.

For the first time ever, both of my kids were faced with consequences that they did not like due to their actions.  Don't get me wrong, they've certainly dealt with consequences in the past due to misbehaving, they've just never dealt with so many all at once.

This morning's adventure out led to coming home early and the kids spending 45 minutes in their rooms. This was followed by no iPad, and no TV for the rest of the day. Just so we are all clear, I don't plop my kids in front of the TV, or let them play Candy Crush all day. They are allowed a little time each day to watch a favorite show, or play an educational game. That's why these times are a big deal. Some may think that a 45 minute time out in a room for an almost two and a three year old seems like a long time, but seriously, that's how long it took my husband and I to recover from this adventure out.

The morning started off fine. They slept well, (for them) and ate a good breakfast. My husband and I decided to run an errand at Target to get some things we needed for our upcoming birthday party for Charlotte. Oh yes, terrible two's! I remember them well since it seems like just yesterday that Lanie was two.

As we parked the car, the usual fuss about riding in the shopping cart started. This is not a huge deal for me. Both of them are typically good when it comes to holding your hand, and with my husband being there it usually makes shopping with them a little easier. It leaves me a free hand to work with. I mean how hard can it be to pick up a card and a stupid paper tablecloth for a birthday party? I said it before and I'll say it again . . . shopping with your kids is NEVER easy. As a matter of fact, I've decided I'm not doing it again until my kids are 12 and 13. I figure in about 10 years or so, it may be a little more manageable. Most likely by then I'll be dealing with a new set of challenges, and I'll have forgotten about all the tantrums they pull now.

When we got in the store my husband went off with my youngest, while Lanie and I searched for the perfect birthday card. That 25 second search turned into my oldest ripping cards off the shelf and throwing them on the floor. When I got down at her level and told her to pick up the cards she lost it saying, "NO, don't you tell me to pick them up. I'm not doing it." Really?! I sense a massive meltdown coming because that crap does not fly well with me. "Lanie, I'm going to ask you again nicely to pick up the cards. Someone worked really hard to put all these cards on the shelves. We need to put them back where they belong." Her response, "NO!" Really?! (a WTF moment). "Lanie, if you don't pick up the cards, I will bring you out to the car." Not only did I get a big fat "NO", I also got a slap in my leg. You bet that shit didn't fly well. My husband saw this and instantly scooped her up, kicking and screaming and brought her out to the car. One down.

Now I'm left with Charlotte and I'm thinking that I'll get my items and get out of there quick. Nope, not the case. Another meltdown, or more like five meltdowns. One in the toy isle that she ran to, one in the clothing department, one by the hair accessory shelf, one at the checkout, and the massive one as I struggled to carry her out of the store kicking and screaming all while attempting to maneuver the shopping cart that she refused to sit in. I could sense lots of onlookers staring, and I was so embarrassed that I could not make eye contact with anyone . . . until I had to. A woman in a caravan pulled up beside me and said "Hang in there. You're doing a good job." A big shout out to that woman. Thank you! At that point I desperately needed a kind vibe. 

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My Mommy Meltdowns

This week has been rough. My kids made me cry. Twice. I'm not exactly sure what drove me to this point, but I do know this . . . typically I can brush the sometimes crazy days off and start each new day with a smile. I figure if I can get to 12:30 PM, any given day, without dropping the f-bomb under my breath it's a good day. That wasn't the case this past week.  I'm going to chalk it up as a default considering one day, or actually one night, started when my oldest decided to get up at 11:30 PM and went the entire following day without napping. I tried my best to ignore the very loud singing that went on for four hours straight that night, but after several reminders that everyone else was sleeping and she needed to be quiet and go back to bed, it just wasn't happening and I gave up. The very next night my youngest started her day at 2:30 AM, and just kept going and going like the Energizer Bunny on some sort of speed. I wanted to run away. I had visions of someplace tropical, but would have settled for an hour to myself to indulge in a very strong Belvedere martini . . . extra dirty. I can totally understand how some stay at home moms turn into stay at home alcoholics. (This is coming from someone who rarely drinks.)

The lack of sleep, temper tantrums and constant arguments over toys was really taking its toll on not only them, but myself as well. One morning I decided to do something kind of silly to see if I could sway our moods in a different direction. It wasn't really silly, it was dumb. Well, I thought it was silly, my kids thought it was dumb. I had a stray helium balloon that I decided to pop and suck some of the helium out of. As I entered the room trying to contain my high pitched, helium laughter, I said "Hey Kids, look at me! I'm your Motha!" (As you can tell, I was clearly starting to lose my marbles.) Kid one screamed at the top of her lungs and yelled "What are you? You're not my mother!!" Kid two gave me the dirtiest look I've ever seen a child give, then turned around and walked away. My attempt at some early morning humor failed.

Later that day my oldest peed on our $2000 couch. Yeah, that pretty much sums up that day. Well, with the exception of bickering over every single toy in our house. The snatching toys . . . I can't take it. It happens all. The. Time. My three year old gets my count to three tactic. It works like a charm. "If you don't give that back I'm going to have to count to three."  I get half way through one and it's pretty much the equivalent of Chinese water torture in her eyes. "NOOO! Don't count to three, I'll give it back!!" My youngest on the other hand thrives on me counting to three. The look she gives as I start to count is similar to the look that a child petting their brand new puppy for the very first time would have. Pure excitement. "Yeah, do it! Count to three. Do it. Do it." It's pretty awful. Let's just say she's going through a testy phase.

Today, my "testy" one made her way up onto the kitchen counter and into a shopping bag that had chocolate cupcakes with orange frosting in it. This happened during the 47 seconds that I was in the bathroom. By the time I cleaned the chocolate off of her hands and face, it dawned on me that I too was now covered in chocolate and had little time to change my clothes. (If you read my past blogs, you may remember my oldest freaks out about stains on her shirt. Yeah, she must get that from me.) Despite my looking like I just took a float down Willie Wonka's chocolate river, I did not have time to change. I had five minutes to get to preschool to pick up my oldest. Plus, I wanted to prove a point to her . . . it's okay to get dirty. Thank god for curb side pick-up, or people may have thought I was home stuffing my face with chocolate cupcakes all morning.

On a good note, my youngest is turning two in a month. That explains some of the testy behavior. On that same day, I’ll be turning 37. My oldest reminded me of that this morning. She said "Mommy, you look so good!" I took this as a compliment, then she said, "For a big, old 24 year old. You have a birthday coming up soon too . . . 47, right?" To add insult to injury, I actually did have to count on my fingers to figure out how old I was going to be. The day I turn 47, I mean 37, is the day I'm treating myself to that martini! Cheers to testy behaviors, terrible twos, good health, and everything in between!

Have you had a mommy meltdown recently? I would love to hear about it, please share!

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