Being a mom is crazy hard. Soul-crushing hard. Heart-breaking hard. Throw your hands up to God and scream "WHY!" hard. And then of course at the same time it is beyond wonderful.
Less than 3 months until his 3rd birthday, my little Jack-Bo is going through some sort of "beat up Mommy and Daddy" phase. The tears resulting from this are not just his. I have cried time after time privately and even some in front of him, yes, hoping to guilt him to this phase's finish line, and so far unsuccessfully. And I have also spent full days fighting back the tears and just trying to make it through work only to go home and be confronted by the same little monster I left that morning and a literal slap in the face. We consistently do time-out, TV restrictions, take away privileges like play dates or bike riding, and although I am ashamed to admit it, I've even spanked him a few times. Not my finest moments, but in an effort to get his attention a quick swat on the bum was all I could think of, and so far, even that has backfired on me.
So he doesn't like to go to school. He is 2. Why should I send him? Sure, he wants Dada and misses his GRandi. So let's call them. Of course he is just tired. A nap should clear up this tantrum. Yeah...NO! I am not some pansy mama raising a wimpy little boy who can cry and whine and get his way and manipulate me into doing whatever he wants! I am not going to be his best friend, not now, and likely not ever, or at least not until he is already grown and I'm sure he isn't on any drugs or in any gangs, and most certainly not robbing banks or shooting people. No, I am his MOTHER. And I am trying to teach him to be respectful and kind and non-violent!
And some days I feel like I am failing.
When your 2-year old has a response for everything, always getting in the last word, all I can think of is how terrible I must have been for my own mother. Throw in my super stubborn husband and at least 1 controlling grandparent gene from each side and you are looking at a quadruple dose of willfulness. "Willful" is the nicer way of saying "brat." I swore I'd never call my child that b/c I remember being called a brat myself as a child, and I truly hated it. So of course, this is one of those posts that I hope he never reads, b/c I don't really think it of him...but right now he is acting like a spoiled rotten brat. Ouch. It hurt me to write that.
And that is the other dilemma. In all the pain of the smacks in the face and the kicks in the shins, what hurts the most is my heart. Why is my SWEET boy (when I know that is who the REAL Jack-Bo is) acting out so physically? Why is he screaming at the top of his lungs and thrashing on the floor and responding to every "no" with throwing punches? THIS is not my child. THIS is some imposter! Some alien from Mars has clearly abducted my son and replaced him with this wild look-alike with a raging temper and insane right hook! But I know that isn't true...and the aching in my chest only grows more and more unbearable as we continue on through this phase of toddler-hood.
I'm calling it a phase of toddler-hood b/c no way is this going to last. At some point there will be bigger fish to fry, much more valuable things to take away, harsher groundings, less leeway. Before I know it my 2 year old will be 12, and quite possibly taller than me. I don't imagine he will still be swinging, b/c if he is, Dr. Phil, here we come! Ugh, I say that now like I know what the future holds, but honestly, I could be ruining him already and not even realizing it. I probably need therapy to talk me down from the ledge of guilt. I am very hard on myself, on so many levels, with unrealistic personal expectations. Hmmn...
Am I expecting too much of him? Do I hold him to a standard too high for a 2-year old, even a brilliant one, to reach? Am I stifling his creativity or holding him back from his full potential by setting limits and expressing what is unacceptable behavior? Am I crushing his spirit and shattering his dreams by making him go to school or not letting him watch one more episode of "Curious George?" Is brushing his teeth really that important? I mean they are baby teeth; he'll get a whole new set...
And see, there it comes again, the guilt, the doubt, the OMG-I-am-ruining-my-child thoughts. Look, I run a tight ship. It may be a messy, loud, dog-hair laden ship, but it is a take-no-crap ship too. Still, I am human, and my tough outer shell is no match for the soft inner core of my heartstrings, which get pulled daily by the quivering lip of a toddler pot about to boil over. Add in the hormones of being pregnant, and I am a mess these days! Now I am starting to wonder how I ever imagined I could be a good mom to TWO children???
The logical, practical, totally rational and sane person inside of me realizes that I AM a good mom. I know my son loves me. I understand that his acting out may have much to do with his lack of maturity (I mean, he IS only 2!). I get that he also feeds off of our stress (as parents), and right now our family is going through a lot of changes. I know he DOES miss me when I am at work, and I also believe he knows just how much I'd rather be with him, and yes, I think he has found a way to use that very fact against me in the worst possible way...b/c what mother doesn't feel torn when her child says he hits you b/c he doesn't want you to go to work. He is angry at me. And even though I don't want him to express anger by hitting, I don't want to punish him for his feelings, right? It is a very tough spot. Like I said, parenting is crazy hard.
And as I type this post at 3:30 in the morning, I am really not coming to any resolutions for the "phase" we are experiencing. I can't really say I feel much better about it, although writing often relieves some of my stress b/c it allows me to express my thoughts clearly, but I can say I know in my heart I am doing my best as a mom, and I love my child infinitely, unconditionally, and that love grows deeper with every passing second. I thank God that I am able to recognize that this too shall pass, and as my MIL says "small children, small problems," and even though I cried myself to sleep a few hours ago, I know the little angel who cuddled up to me in the bed and kissed my shoulder is truly an exceptional child and the greatest gift from heaven above.
I also know that in the morning, before he remembers that he wants to be in control, he'll snuggle with me and let me hold him and hug him and kiss him and love all over him. Then he may smack me and spend the rest of the day in time out, but I'll fall back on those morning snuggles and do my best to smile from behind his time out chair and take my own time-out too.
I don't know any bible verses to quote here, nor do I have any special words of wisdom, but I do have a slip of paper from a Chinese fortune cookie taped to my monitor at work. It reads "Patience is a Key to Joy." I don't believe having patience means giving in, but I do think it means riding out the challenges in life all the way to the other side, b/c where ever that is, perhaps there we will find our joy. I know Jack-Bo will get to the other side of this aggressive stage he is in right now. And even more importantly, I know that when he does, he will know that Mommy and Daddy never stopped loving him along the way.
I also think I need to cut myself some slack. I need to be patient with ME. I need to remember this is all a process, this parenting gig, and no matter how much I think I know about it, I am learning more and more every day. And on the days when I feel like I know nothing, I need to remember my son is still young, and I have his lifetime and the rest of mine to figure it out. And if I never really do, well, then I need to just enjoy the adventure...
I might be a little delirious seeing as it is 4AM, so I'll end this post here with one last thought. Tomorrow is a brand new day and a chance for me to start over. I am going to take some deep breaths and hold no grudges against my precious boy for the heartache I experienced tonight. My love for him is unwavering, and he gets to start over too. Here's to hoping for a better day!
