Mother of the year
When Martin woke me up at 4:15 this morning to tell me that my toast was ready, I knew that today was going to be difficult. I have no idea how long he'd been awake, but he was up and moving and going back to bed wasn't going to be an option. As the day has progressed, my very tired boy has hardly been able to function normally. Every word that comes out of his voice is either a whine or an angry yell.
This coincided with the fact that we are almost out of two big essentials - diapers and soy milk. So we had no choice but to make a run to Wal-Mart. Usually the kids do pretty well in a store until we near the end. This time, Martin made it just through the automatic doors of the store before had his first meltdown. Maybe some parents would just turn around at this point and decide to try it later. Like after a nap. Not me. I figured we didn't have a very long list and we could just run. No need to haul everyone in and out of the car one more time today if we didn't have to.
It got worse as we made our way around the store. Martin broke free of the safety harness on the double-seater cart and worked his way around the outside perimeter of the cart like he was on a tightrope. He moved his head to the side every time we passed something so he was nearly decapitated half a dozen times. He gave Sophie things from my purse then ripped them out of her hands causing her to scream her head off. He pumped back his arm like he was going to bonk Sophie on the head with his built-in sledgehammer.
I tried channeling both my mother and The Nanny (both the voice of reason) and said things like "We don't talk that way to each other at our house" and "Hitting your sister is not acceptable". I picked up the pace and jogged through the last half of the store, grabbing things off my list and launching them in the cart as we went by. By the time we left the store, I just felt so grateful that we were almost in the car and on our way home. We'd almost made it.
I put the kids in their car seats and started unloading bags into the back of the car. From the back door, I could see Martin spitting into the air. Sometimes it was a fine mist so that he could see it sparkle in the sunshine. Sometimes it was a full-on blob that he was trying to project into the front seat. This is where I hit my end. I truly hate spit, I think it is the grossest thing EVER. I barely made it through Martin's first year when he drooled so much I thought maybe he had some over-salivation disease. But now, after a very trying morning, I didn't think I could make it through the spit-capades happening in the backseat.
Calmly I said, "Martin stop spitting, that's 1." The spitting continued. "Martin, stop spitting, that's 2." No spit cessation in sight. That's when I turned from a mother trying the "1-2-3 Magic Approach" and crossed over to the featured guest of a "Bad Mother" episode on Jerry Springer. From my own mouth I heard "Stop doing that or I'm going to throw your blanket out the window." As soon as it left my mouth, I wished I hadn't said it. From the backseat I heard "So, I don't care." My temporary feeling of remorse was washed away by a fresh blast of insanity and I said "And I'll run over it with the car."
Let's recap. I just did the thing I try very hard never to do - make a threat that you can't or don't want to follow up on. Marty is the master of this one. When he says stuff like "Do that again and I'll give you a timeout for the rest of your life" I just roll my eyes and try to substitute a different punishment that doesn't include building a dungeon in the basement. But here I was, just promising that if the spitting continued, I was going to throw his favorite blanket out the window and RUN IT OVER WITH THE CAR.
Despite my poor judgment and temporary insanity, it worked. He stopped spitting and I sighed in relief. Also, I forgot the milk, but there is NO WAY we're going back there today.
This coincided with the fact that we are almost out of two big essentials - diapers and soy milk. So we had no choice but to make a run to Wal-Mart. Usually the kids do pretty well in a store until we near the end. This time, Martin made it just through the automatic doors of the store before had his first meltdown. Maybe some parents would just turn around at this point and decide to try it later. Like after a nap. Not me. I figured we didn't have a very long list and we could just run. No need to haul everyone in and out of the car one more time today if we didn't have to.
It got worse as we made our way around the store. Martin broke free of the safety harness on the double-seater cart and worked his way around the outside perimeter of the cart like he was on a tightrope. He moved his head to the side every time we passed something so he was nearly decapitated half a dozen times. He gave Sophie things from my purse then ripped them out of her hands causing her to scream her head off. He pumped back his arm like he was going to bonk Sophie on the head with his built-in sledgehammer.
I tried channeling both my mother and The Nanny (both the voice of reason) and said things like "We don't talk that way to each other at our house" and "Hitting your sister is not acceptable". I picked up the pace and jogged through the last half of the store, grabbing things off my list and launching them in the cart as we went by. By the time we left the store, I just felt so grateful that we were almost in the car and on our way home. We'd almost made it.
I put the kids in their car seats and started unloading bags into the back of the car. From the back door, I could see Martin spitting into the air. Sometimes it was a fine mist so that he could see it sparkle in the sunshine. Sometimes it was a full-on blob that he was trying to project into the front seat. This is where I hit my end. I truly hate spit, I think it is the grossest thing EVER. I barely made it through Martin's first year when he drooled so much I thought maybe he had some over-salivation disease. But now, after a very trying morning, I didn't think I could make it through the spit-capades happening in the backseat.
Calmly I said, "Martin stop spitting, that's 1." The spitting continued. "Martin, stop spitting, that's 2." No spit cessation in sight. That's when I turned from a mother trying the "1-2-3 Magic Approach" and crossed over to the featured guest of a "Bad Mother" episode on Jerry Springer. From my own mouth I heard "Stop doing that or I'm going to throw your blanket out the window." As soon as it left my mouth, I wished I hadn't said it. From the backseat I heard "So, I don't care." My temporary feeling of remorse was washed away by a fresh blast of insanity and I said "And I'll run over it with the car."
Let's recap. I just did the thing I try very hard never to do - make a threat that you can't or don't want to follow up on. Marty is the master of this one. When he says stuff like "Do that again and I'll give you a timeout for the rest of your life" I just roll my eyes and try to substitute a different punishment that doesn't include building a dungeon in the basement. But here I was, just promising that if the spitting continued, I was going to throw his favorite blanket out the window and RUN IT OVER WITH THE CAR.
Despite my poor judgment and temporary insanity, it worked. He stopped spitting and I sighed in relief. Also, I forgot the milk, but there is NO WAY we're going back there today.
oh...my...what a wild beginning to this day! Of course I was laughing out loud even though it isn't funny for you! I don't know of a Mother who hasn't crossed the line to a Jerry Springer guest in our own minds. My favorite part was driving over the blanket with the car - genius.
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