That Darn *@#% Boy!

Dear Jeffrey,
 
Remember how when we got married my hair was that gorgeous chestnut brown color?  I loved it too.  Please keep that in mind when you get home today.  As it may have suddenly all turned white.  Due to copious amounts of stress.

All caused by Keith.

I am trying so hard to love him, and to discipline with love, but I am about to wit's end.  The boy keeps teasing Faye, making her scream and cry (what is it about making someone younger cry that is so fun?  I don't get it).  He has been hitting me, and screaming and being disobedient all day long.  

I have sent him to bed no less than five times.  I put him in his room, in his bed for hitting Faye, and he found a wooden stick.  A nice thick (3") stick that I have been saving for something.  I know it will come in handy someday.  He found that and was hitting the door with it.  I told him to stop, and put him back in bed.  I told him if he hit the door again he was in MAJOR trouble.  

I walked out, closed the door, and immediately he was hitting the door with that wooden stick again!  I know I should have taken it out of his room, but I am getting so mad I can't think straight.  I whipped around, tore the stick out of his hand, threw it down the hall, and tossed him into his bed.  

He was screaming again.  And I felt bad.  So I picked him up into my lap, cuddled him a little and explained that if he hit the door, it would make a hole in the door.  And then we would have to use his Christmas Present money to buy a new door.  He wouldn't get anything for Christmas but a new door.  Christmas morning he would have to watch Faye opening her presents and all he would get was a new door.
 
That seemed to work for as long as it took me to cross his room and walk out.  As soon as I was down the hall, the door creeped open and I saw his eyes peering out, watching me.  

"Mommy, I have to go potty.  I have to right now.  Its the brown stuff.  I really have to go."


He had used this ploy three times before, but since we are potty training him, I had to let him go.  While he was playing in the bathroom, I grabbed some pull ups, and told him when he was done with the potty, he was going to wear his pull ups to bed, so that he could get some sleep.  This news was not greeted with joy.  He played on the toilet the whole time I was doing hair and makeup.  When I finished, he still hadn't done anything in the potty so I picked him up, forced the pull ups onto his thrashing legs, ignoring the little hands tearing at mine, and carried him to bed.  


Kicking to make a swimmer jealous ensued.  So I laid on his legs and told him I was going to sleep there.  He eventually stopped kicking but was still screaming, so I took his bear, told him that Mr. Bear doesn't like that noise, and gave the bear to Faye.  And that is when the world came to a crashing end.  In order to prevent Armagedon, he agreed to sleep if he could have his bear back.  No more screaming was promised when I informed him Mr. Bear would leave for good since the noise hurt his ears.  Everything was agreed to,I gave him back his bear and I left.  Whimpering continued for a good 10 minutes, and finally, there was silence again. 


Faye went down without any kind of a fight.  Bless her.


I read once that extensive amounts of stress can change your hair color.  Somewhere in that ordeal I believe my hair changed from the dark to a stark white.  I am afraid to look in the mirror.

So, please tell me something nice and soothing before I jump out the window!  


Your ever adoring wife,


Amy