Yes I AM the Boss of You

I had a dream the other night that I was living in an institution for unfit mothers.  Me and Q, we lived there together.  I had just had my hearing and the review panel ruled that I needed to stay another year.  A whole year.  So we went back to my room...which turned out to be my office at work...with no furniture in it.  Everything was grey and white.  And I was stuck there for another year.  Because I sucked at being a mom.

I'm not gonna lie...it's not really so far from how I'm feeling right now. 

My child has decided that he's going to go through a super annoying phase where he pushes all the buttons and tests all the boundaries every. single. day.  I'm not kidding.  There hasn't been a day in the past two weeks that I haven't had to discipline him for something he's done.  This is completely out of the norm, because my kid is usually a really, really good kid.  Everyone talks about the terrible two's, but no one ever, ever mentioned the sinister six-almost seven's.  I feel completely unprepared. 

I make him something for breakfast and he refuses to eat it.  Then, after I've told him there is nothing until lunch, I have to chase him around the house and pry food out of his hands.  He whines incessantly.  He asks the same question over and over and over again..."Can I get a new toy?" "No." "Can I get a new toy?" "No." "Can I get a new toy?" "No." "Can I get a new toy?" "No."  He talks back.  He says "No" to me when I ask him to do something.  He calls me fat.  He says, "you're not the boss of me..."  Like, do they teach kids these things at school?  How do they all know these phrases?  I think we as parents need to sit in a class every once in a while, just to find out what's really going on in there...

I've given him time outs (where he yells at me the whole time), taken away video game privileges, cancelled an evening out to the movies to watch "Cars 2" which I really, really wanted to see, so I was super bummed about that one.  Sometimes he just gets me so worked up, I just have to leave the room and give myself a time out so I don't hurt him.  I was talking with a girlfriend who says that when her daughter starts acting out she just hugs her and kisses her because she knows that if she doesn't hug her, she's gonna hit her.  So she uses the hug to remind herself how much she really loves her little bundle of trouble. 

Of course, if I really truly thought that his behavior was a direct reflection on my parenting, I wouldn't be blogging about it right now out of sheer embarrassment.  I would guess, though, that I'm not completely blameless.  Sometimes when we're in the middle of a "why not/because" argument I ask myself, "Why not?"  Just give in.  So he doesn't want Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast, throw them out and make him waffles.  It would be sooooo much easier.  So he wants another two dollar Hot Wheels car.  Two dollars isn't going to break the bank.  Who cares if he has two hundred cars already?  It's self preservation and it only costs two dollars!!!!  Do I really need to win all the time? 

Well, yes.  Yes, I do.  Most of the time anyways.  I guess I don't buy him the Lego Ninjago (which forever I thought he was saying Kilimanjaro - as in the mountain, and I kept wondering why he wanted me to buy him a friggen mountain.  When did I become the uncool parent who didn't know about things like Bey Blades and silly bandz and Lego Ninjagos....I used to be totally up on all the brand names.) I don't buy him these things all the time because I don't want him to be one of those adults who expects everything to just be given to him because he hasn't worked for anything.  Same with the cereal.  It might not seem like a huge deal now, but in ten years time, it might come back to bite me in the ass. 

For the meantime, it's not so fun being around me and Q.  My mom left the house the other morning amidst me yelling and Q whining.  I keep praying it's a phase.  I keep praying it gets better.  But then I remember that pre-teens are just around the corner, and then testosterone is waiting just beyond that.  Where did my baby go?  My baby, who's bum fit perfectly in my hand when I carried him around; who's beautiful blonde curls bounced when he ran. My baby is going into grade two.  *Sob*

I guess this means I should stop doing up his seat belt for him.  He can probably dress himself too, right? 

I think I'll just pour another glass of wine!

cute lil chubby toddler :)