I Love My Kid So Much That it’s Time to Listen to My Gut.
Today was the most difficult parenting day I’ve had in like….ever.
This morning, Luca ate like six sugar wafer cookies, which I lied and referred to as crackers in my Facebook status, because I give my kid junk food sometimes and was trying to make myself look better because my god some people judge everything just shut up already and whatever the fuck this isn’t the point.
A couple of hours later, he wanted more.
I always give him only two at a time, when it’s a small, sweet treat, because he’s super sensitive to sugar.
So, when he asked for more, and I said no, the motherfucking shit hit the fan.
Mommy, I want two.
Sorry, Luca, you may only have one. You’ve already eaten way too much junk food today. You may eat one quietly, or eat none at all if you keep screaming at me.
TWO WAFERS MOMMY TWO WAFERS MOMMY I HAVE TO GET TWO YOU ALWAYS GIVE ME TWO.
At first, I thought he just wanted the most cookies in the whole wide world, so I tested it by asking if he’d like three instead.
NO! TWO! YOU ALWAYS GIVE ME TWO!
He then proceeded to throw his body on the floor and scream like I was torturing him.
I stood my ground.
And so he banged his head against the hardwood floors.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
At least five times.
I grabbed his tiny, tense body and held him tight, so he wouldn’t hurt himself.
WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?
I’m not sure where he got that, because the only time we talk about killing in this house is when roaches are in mommy’s car. But, I’ll sure as shit be monitoring his television programming a little better than I have been.
His fit lasted almost two hours.
I want a new mommy! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t control myself. I’m so frustrated. Why do you want to kill me? Please don’t cry mommy. I love you. Please be happy to me.
This is the thing about my sweet firecracker boy.
He blows up at me, and when I’ve lost all patience, having done everything I know to do, and I finally break down? He feels so bad and regretful. He can’t stand to see anyone sad.
And, before anyone tells me I shouldn’t cry in front of him when I’ve reached the end of my rope, what’s the alternative? A stoic mommy who shows no feelings? Fuck that. He needs to know that it’s okay to cry, to feel, and have emotions. I don’t cry in front of him often, maybe a handful of times in his short life, but sometimes I can’t help it. I’m hurt for him, I’m frustrated with him, I’m frustrated that he’s hurting and angry and so upset that he can’t control his body and that I am powerless to help him.
But, I’m always sure to let him know that he isn’t making me cry, and that I’m just sad because I can’t bear to see him so sad, and that I feel terrible that I don’t know how to reach him when he’s gone into that place.
Mommies cry, too, honey. Everyone does. And it’s okay! It’s good to let your feelings out.
After he’d finally calmed down, I thought of something fun we could do to get our minds off the heavy morning.
We should throw a surprise “thanks for working so hard for us even when you’re sick, daddy” party.
So, we went to Party City to get the decorations, and I left all of the choices up to Luca.
Then, we headed to the grocery store to stock up.
And, this is where everything went to shit again.
He kept hurting is brother. I’d tell him to stop and it’s as if this made him want to do it even more. Then he turned to me, shaking mad, and pinched me as hard as his tiny hands could pinch.
We left the store with him screaming at the top of his lungs, because I wouldn’t let him use his HEB Buddy Bucks, because duh he pinched me.
In situations like this, I have to turn the radio up and simply ignore his yelling. Engaging only makes it worse. Shit, even ignoring makes it worse.
We got in the house and he hit me a few times. Not hard, but still.
He finally got it all out, calmed down again, and was happy as a clam.
Like a stuck switch that had finally been jimmied enough to turn off.
And (this is what sucks so bad about being a parent), he acted as if the past six hours had never happened. And I was still so mad about it all. I couldn’t get over it. I didn’t like him at that moment, which made me not like myself because HE IS YOUR CHILD AND IS SENSITIVE AND HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND AND GROW UP AND HUG HIM!
So, I pushed my anger and shameful resentment aside and scooped him up.
I hugged him tight and told him how much I loved him and that I was sorry his mind was so cluttered and zappy and overwhelmed and I wanted more than anything to help him feel the beauty of things, good and bad, without feeling those things along with it.
And, so, I’ve decided that I’ve got to stop listening to all the it’s so normal for his age chill out you frustrated mom and just trust my gut.
And my gut tells me it couldn’t hurt to see an Occupational Therapist to help him deal with his frustrations.
Do I think he’s fucked up?
Of course not.
Do I think something is majorly wrong with him.
No, not by any means.
I want him to be sensitive and empathetic and passionate, I just want all those qualities to feel good to him.
Early intervention and some coping skills can only be a good thing.
It certainly can’t hurt, right?
We spent the last hours of his day getting daddy’s surprise you kick ass party ready.
It went off without a hitch and my husband loved it.
Even if, with all the decorations Luca picked out, it felt more like daddy’s surprise coming out party.
Aside: These types of posts I will mark as private one day, when Luca and his friends start learning how to read, callously make fun of each other, and navigating the internet. When he’s old enough, I’ll let him decide if he wants to share these personal parts of himself.