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
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
Comments
My baby girl likes to make her older brother cry. Teases him like crazy. I guess that's what happens when there isn't a younger sibling to pick on.
{{{{{{{{{Amy}}}}}}}}}}
They say the smart ones are always hardest. And he is definitely smart.
Just hold that line, girl. You'll win in the end. You're bigger. And stronger.
And besides, you're the mom, right?
;)
Oh boy I remember tantrums like that. Very very hard on the nerves. Then they grow out of them. Then they become teenagers.
I totally believe it is for days like this that Heavenly Father made a mother's love so strong!
Some days motherhood is just plain hard. I'm sorry you've been having those days lately.
You need a mommy time-out! Can your husband watch the kids for a few hours while you go do something for you...even if it's just head to the bookstore and read. If I lived by you I'd totally take them for you. (Hugs!)
Hang in there mom. Take some time for yourself today anyway you can...One thing I did when they were younger was fill the tub with lots of water and toys and put them in swim suits (cuz they thought that was fun) and put them in the tub to PLAY...not to get clean...then I would sit on the toilet (yes the toilet) and flip through magazines or read a book while I politely tossed out a "yeah, uh huh" at what they were saying to me and truly tuned them out for an hour of what I called TUB FUN but was really a mommy break!
I have a feeling we would look nearly identical when compared side by side in our discipline styles.
I took my kids' door once. True story.