Sometimes I just want to scream. I want to let it all out and SCREAM at the top of my lungs, throw in the proverbial white towel and just say $%&# it! But I can’t, I’m a wife, mom, professional and I need to make good on those promises.
Today was a good day overall, productive with two meetings, two calls and answered a boatload of e-mails in between, got a sacred work out in and took my son to the park after picking him up at his nanny’s. We were in heaven blowing bubbles in the air, going down the slide, chasing after my little man as he looked back laughing at me. It was golden. Memorable. Beautiful.
But then, it was time to leave. He seemed more than ready as I told him to say bye to the park. He waved “Bye!” and even blew kisses to the slides. “Vamo’ casa bebe?” he asked. I’m thinking “Awesome, he’s tired and ready to go home for dinner.” SIKE! Homeboy throws the biggest fit I’ve EVER had to deal with as I tried to strap him in to his carseat. Someone please call Parent Protective Services because this child is abusing ME! I love my beautiful son but I saw a side of him that just made me fear for the rest of my life. It took all the energy in me not to buckle and cry right along with him at that moment. By the grace of God there was a balloon in the car my sister had just bought him and he held it long enough for me to strap him in before the wailing began again. I wanted to cut my ears off with a spoon after the short five minute drive.
“Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.”
He was happy to be home, or so I thought. I’m not sure what upset him so much but as we made our way through the door he started back up. It was the most over dramatic performance I’ve ever seen in my life! At the same time, my heart broke for my little man but nothing I said seemed to comfort him - he just wanted to go back out to the park. It was a tantrum. A terrible two’s revelation. He was not having it. He cried, I cried. It just plain sucked to be either one of us at that moment. For a minute, I saw a 16 year old boy screaming: “I hate you, mom!” Painful.
It took some time, stern talk and a combination of somewhat ignoring him while he sat in the “contemplation corner” also knows as “time out” and asking him to please stop crying so he could talk to me. I think he finally understood I couldn’t understand him, he needed to talk to me. Finally, he gave up on his antics - this time around. He eventually calmed down. Feeling proud that I hadn’t given in, I asked him if he was done crying and ready to eat. He looked up, stretched his arms and laid the biggest kiss on me as if saying “I’m sorry, mama!” We ate dinner, played and did some puzzles as if the “psycho baby” episode had never happened. In the end, it was all good but seeing this side of my son was a rookie mommy moment that I will officially dub my “terrible two’s hazing ceremony.”