Well. It came and went, and there was only one toy taken away indefinitely, one bout of food poisoning, and one M3 (Mama Mental Meltdown) on the 2,000-mile car trip.
What did I do on my Christmas vacation? Well, besides getting food poisoning/a stomach virus (FP/SV), I learned that three is, apparently, the new Terrible “T” age. Evidence?
Following are some Goosequotes from our 8-day trip to Tundraland (aka Wisconsin/Minnesota).
- “I’ll pick it up when I’m ready.”
- “I’m gonna chainsaw you.”
- “We don’t put boys and girls in time out. It makes them mad.”
- “Baby Jack needs to not touch my chainsaw.”
- “No. Because I’m the John-John.”
Now, some of those quotes need explanation. OK.
The first is a response to a “pick that up” request, obviously.
The second is a response to a desperate in-the-car-on-the-way-to-a-holiday-wedding plea for better behavior. He had gotten this mongo chainsaw from The Paternals, and we’d been giving him the whole “it’s a tool not a toy and we NEVER put it near people” schpeel. So I think he was just trying to test our limits with the chainsaw-use comment, and I am trying not to think about what he might say to taunt me if we ever allowed him to play with guns. Ugh. Parenting is so hard. (Note: I tried to find the exact correct spelling of "schpeel," and apparently there are several as a result of the translation from Yiddish.)
Quote #3 is a typical Goose commentary on the likely results of invoking the use of T.O. during a chainsaw play session. His parenting book is being considered for publication by Random House.
Fourth is the requisite mention of Cousin Jack, who incited much whining and territorialism but fought back well.
And finally … that last quote is priceless. You see, his strongwilledness has become so, um, strong of late that I have resorted to saying things like, “I’m the Mama; you’re the child. I’m in charge. You don’t get to put me in time out or give me orders.” It feels even lower than it sounds, trust me.
I always thought that people whose kids seemed to just be totally out of control were not using strong enough disciplinary procedures or were giving them too much sugar and not mandating essential sleeping routines. But my personal science project with the matter tells me that that theory was WRONG. (A) I am a nap Nazi; (B) y’all know I insist upon cooking delicious low-fat meals, and (C) I try to stay informed about all the best behavior modifiers. Oh but the best intentions are all in vain when it comes to this child. He turns everything around on me. Everything I have ever tried:
You give him options, he gives YOU options back, or – better yet – dictates that something isn’t the ONLY option.
You put him in time out; later, he attempts to put you in it.
You tell him to calm down; later, he tells you not to talk to him until you’re calm.
You use the whole “Because I’m the Mama” line on him, then he’ll use it right back … in just the right context with just the right tone at just the right time to cause you to explode.
I know it’s a phase, but I also know that people say it gets harder and “just wait until he’s a teenager” and blah blah blah. Some people gawk at what we “let him get away with” (they’ve forgotten that we must pick our battles). Others think we should overlook it (they clearly aren't Type A). More "others" say that he just needs a sibling. Sometimes I think he needs another word that starts with an “s” and ends in “ing” … but it’s not “sibling.”
Then again, if we don’t spare the rod, then he won’t either. Copycat that he is.
So that’s my current parenting crisis.
You don't believe any of this, do you? Well. Regardless, please don't share your well-intentioned advice; do feel free, however, to start a petition for our appearance on Supernanny. I’ve decided some situations just can’t be explained or fixed. They just have to be endured with patience and persistence and faith that one is doing the right thing by trying to stay in charge as much as possible. Better here than Istanbul is all I can think to say.
Ooh! This was a happy post-holiday entry!
Actually, other than the behavior and the FP/SV incident that rendered Brian and I completely bathroom-floor bound on Christmas Eve until 3 a.m., we had a lovely time in both Milwaukee and St. Paul. If you’re gonna be sick, do it with grandparents around to take some of the pain away from sickly childcare.
If you want more photos, click here. Goodnight.
1 comment:
All I can say, Geese, is that I freaking feel ya.
I'm sorry that I laughed so hard at John's quotes; it's just that they are so familiar. I felt as if I was right at home.
I just want to tell you how much I appreciate you and your honesty about parenting. I spend 99% of my day wondering why it is that NO one else that I know has children who resist every.single.thing that they do. Why I have a mutant gene that renders me unable to follow through on a consequence, no matter how annoying it is to follow through at that moment, and how it seems to make absolutely no difference whatsoever.
I'm sorry to say that age three has sucked balls, and you know that's about the strongest language that I'm capable of using. :)
I had an epiphany when I watched the Dog Whisperer, however, and I'll email you more about that later. But we say the EXACT same things that you guys do: "I am the Mama. You are the child. Mama and Dad are in charge." Exactly. I think it helps, seriously.
They really are going to grow up to be lovely, normal, well-behaved children.
I think.
Love y'all and can't wait to read more from your house.
xo
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