I was going to post about Simeon’s most recent, absolutely unexplainable rage in the car today. Really?! Crackers are the reason you spent the past 30 minutes screaming bloody murder and slapping yourself red and silly?!
I thought that maybe those of you struggling with parent-hood could take some tips from me. After all, I was totally calm and level headed the entire time. I did not pick up the sippy cup that flew past my head just seconds before and sling water in Simon’s face hoping it would shock him out of crazy. I did not do that, but I’m certain that if I had, it would not have worked. Probably, just as I turned back to my seat, there would have been a woman staring, slack-jawed into my car and shaking her head. Glad that didn’t happen.
Since I don’t want to sound like a condescending know it all. You know, with my awesome parenting skills. I wanted to take a break from the my kid’s crazy stories and remind the world that I absolutely love my kid. I am head over heals, wrapped around his sticky little finger in love.
I feel like I whine a lot. It’s easy to write with some anonymity and forget about the impression I may be making on the world at large (or the three people who read this). I’m stressed out. I’m tired. Sometimes I’m sad and I foray into my own sort of crazy more often than I even admit on here, but truth be told, I’m happier and more fulfilled than I’ve ever been.
I’m in love with my husband who is a more amazing father than I ever even imagine he would be. I would like to put it on record that there is nothing sexier than a husband holding a tiny little bit in his strong arms, can I get an amen?!
So for every hour of crazy, or tired, or angry, or sad, or stressed I write about, there are 23 filled with normal hugs and books and blocks and laundry and lunch. It’s just, that 2 hours straight of the same knock knock joke, mistold by a three year old just aren’t interesting enough to write about. (Knock, Knock. Who’s there? Boo. Boo who? Whaa, whaa, whaa. No, you say: you don’t have to cry about it. Whaa, whaa, whaa. No, boo hoo is the same as crying, I say boo who and you say: you don’t have to cry about it. Whaa, whaa, whaa. Whatever. Knock, Knock…)
I will end on a brag story, though. After the rage in which I stayed calm and level headed and did not shame myself in public.
We had calmed down and wiped our tears and made it home with out killing each other, Simeon looked at me and said “I ul you Mama [Monica]. I happy. Unch peas!” (translation: I love you, I’m happy, lunch please).
That is the first time he’s ever said he’s happy. We’ve been talking about feelings: happy, sad and angry, but he’s only ever said he’s sad. Or, “don’t talka me!!!” Which means, I’m angry and I WILL rage if you don’t back off, yo.
“I love you [Simeon]. And, I’m happy too. I’m especially happy you’re here with me. Lunch sounds great. How about pancakes and cheez-its?”
You know, ’cause I’m all about a healthy lunch. Try not to beat yourself up, this parenting thing has a steep learning curve. Take it from me, you’ll catch on soon enough.