I need about 2 more hours in a day, and an on-call therapist!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
As I've mentioned in a few recent blogs, we're going through a really tough phase with Matthew - my 21month old. He's entered the terrible 2's like a racehorse busting through the gate when the starting gun goes off. Add this to a full work schedule, a ton of new responsibilities, and trying to let my 6 year old know that we still love her and want to have time for her too - Mommy is going a little nutsy!
As a Mom, you begin to blame it on yourself. "I don't have enough time for him, so he's lashing out". " I don't play with him enough". "I don't give him enough 1 on 1 time". "I don't have enough patience with him".
My drive home begins with a quick jolt of joy as I leave the office, but then reality sets in and I realize I have no idea how my night is going to play out, and these days those nights are NOT easy. The battle of getting Matthew in the car, the battle of getting him out of the car, the tantrum in-between because he doesn't understand why he can't drive the car home. The battle of getting up the stairs into the house because he wants to play with the various saws, hammers and insecticides stored in the garage. The battle to put him down for 2 seconds so that I can put down bags and remove my heels. The dinner table battle because he doesn't want to sit in his highchair to eat - which then leads to the tantrum because the dog ate his dinner. So, that's my first 15 minutes at home.
We then go into bedtime mode. First it's the tantrum because he does NOT want to wear long sleeve pajamas, or pajamas with feet. (Even though the weather man is predicting flurries and our house is on the chilly side). The tantrum because he wants to read every book at least 10 times. Last night, bedtime began at 7:20pm, and we finally had both kids asleep by 9:30pm. That's 2 hours!! My bedtime is 10pm, so that gives me 30 minutes to get the dishes done and a prepare for the next day.
I spend the first 10 minutes in bed praying that we don't have to get up in the middle of the night. Often times, the next 10 minutes are spent with my crying because I don't know how I'm going to get it all done or worrying that I'm doing something wrong.
Everyone reassures me that this is just a phase. This too shall pass. He WILL grow out of this. I know I'll survive, and one day look back at this period and laugh. The question is...is it a funny "ha ha" laugh, or is it the hysterical laughing with the crazy look in my eye while wearing a robe, from inside a padded cell?