Sunday, November 10, 2013

Option number 2 is duct tape.

I've had a very trying morning.  Let me start by saying that I'm not a morning person to begin with unless there's the promise of tasty foods I don't normally get.  That will put me in a good mood pretty quickly, but under normal circumstances, I'd rather just lay in bed for a while.  D does not lay in bed.  He gets up and messes with stuff in his room.  Since the tea tree oil fiasco, henceforth known at The Incident, I've put some quiet toys in his room for when he gets up before me.  Which is every day.  Instead of playing with them, he dumps them on the floor then rearranges his drawers.  Honestly, I'm happy to put things back where they go in the morning since it's fairly harmless.  He must have been bored with the drawers today.  Let's go back a little further.  Before D was born, my parents shipped me a box full of old Disney puzzles.  They thought, rightly so it seems, that D would like to play with them some day.  Being a Dizgeek myself, I also enjoyed the thought of the puzzles.  I stacked them in the drawer under the crib.  About the time that I lowered the crib to the bottom setting, the drawer gave up it's last attempt at clinging to usefulness.  It wouldn't move and kept falling apart, so I just took it off the track and left it on the floor pushed against the back wall under the crib.  The puzzles were still there.  Today, D got up before dawn and yelled until I came to change his poopy diaper (I can't wait until we get him fully potty-trained).  I put him back in bed because in this house we sleep until the sun comes up.  About an hour later, I checked the camera to find that something had apparently exploded in D's room.  I rushed upstairs to see bits of broken drawer buried under thousands of puzzle pieces and eight boxes.  D was standing by the gate grinning at me.  Then he threw a puzzle piece at my head.  It was at this point that I gave up on good parenting and gave in to the pregnancy rage.  I admit it: I yelled at my two-year-old son.  There was a huge mix of emotions churning inside of me, and for a minute, I had to stay outside the gate while D continued to grin at me to stop myself from yelling more.  Deep breaths.  At least I'd only yelled one short comment to the tune of "What the hell, crazy man?!"  I entered the disaster zone and began cleanup.  At first, D tried to help, but after dropping a piece of drawer on my foot for a second time, I banished him to sitting on his bed.  Nicely.  I said it nicely.  With clenched teeth.  It took a while to get the floor cleaned, and I think I can salvage the puzzles after a bit of concentrated effort separating the pieces, but my real concern was that I'm having trouble controlling my anger.  I'm not afraid that I'm going to do anything physically, but I find myself yelling in the angry mom voice too often for my peace of mind.  D doesn't understand that those puzzles were important to me too or that I'm going to spend a lot of time trying to put them back to rights.  All he gets is that he had a hell of a time scattering them all over his room.  Yelling at him serves no purpose and teaches him that it's okay to yell at people.  I started examining my behavior a few days ago when D screamed at me for not getting off the couch fast enough for his tastes.  It wasn't just high-pitched shrieking; he was yelling at me.  I'm trying to curb my tendency to yell, but it's proving very difficult when I can go from completely calm to pregnant psycho in less than a second.  I got to test my new patience a few minutes later when we went into my room so I could change.  I was still in my pajamas, and D followed me into my room while I grabbed clothes.  As my back was turned, he grabbed a Lakefront Brewery token from Eli's bedside table and dropped it into the vent on the humidifier.  I turned back just in time to see it disappear.  I spent the next fifteen minutes alternating between actively trying not to yell and prying up the vent to retrieve the token.  I managed to get it out without breaking anything, and I did it without raising my voice.  I spoke very quietly, and D seemed unsure what to make of it.  That's going to be my new plan.  When I'm angry, I will speak quietly and remove myself from the situation (after locking D on the other side of the living room gate).  I hope that I remember my new plan of action because I have no intention of raising a hellion who screams at people.  There's nothing like your child repeating your bad habits to spur you into action changing them.

I finally uploaded a bunch of pictures, so enjoy.

Playing with the new ball he scammed me out of at the park.

That's a lion riding a bear just before going to the zoo.

Soft dragon.
"Helping" me cook by stealing my potholders.

D's first D&D campaign.  He does not look convinced that the plan was well thought-through.

Oh look, something shiny!  Also, fabulous heels.

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