Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Three is going to kill me.
No, not having 3 kids. Although, I did read this article the other day which made me feel a smidge better about life. Raising 3 kids = Hard as shit. Solidarity, sisters.
What's really killing me is raising a 3 year old. Dear God, I love him with all my heart and soul. I really really really do. And when he throws his arms around me and tells me that he loves me and covers my face with kisses, I melt into a giant puddle.
But holy rage, can he ever spit some fire. The temper tantrums these days are EPIC. They're louder, longer, and more dramatic than ever before. Most days, I find it best to be very matter of fact with him and just ignore the meltdowns when the occur. But there are some days when I feel like he's punching me in the face with his snippy little 'tude all day long and it makes Mommy wanna reach for the sangria.
I remember telling people when he was 2 that he was "very much 2" with his opinions and frustrations and tantrums. Were they frustrating? Of course. Especially because I had 2 infants to take care of on top of the crazy toddler. But I think the difference was that I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I mean, it had to be frustrating to not be able to understand why you can't have certain things or can't do certain things yourself. And really, the tantrums weren't all that often. Maybe once or twice a day.
The problem with 3 is that now he can understand those things. He knows that he isn't allowed to do certain things because he could get hurt. He'll yell "YOU pick up my cup!!" when I ask him to pick up his cup that he tossed on the ground because he didn't feel like getting up. He'll look me straight in the eye and lie to me when I ask him if he wrote on the couch with chalk, even though we both know that I know he did it. And the tantrums are more frequent and the whining is constant. Constant. He woke up at 5:30 this morning and every.single.thing he said to me for the entire day was a whine.
I think that part of the problem is that I hold him to a high standard. And as an oldest child who felt like my parents held me to a higher standard for my entire life, I always swore that I wouldn't do it to my kids. I try really hard to remind myself frequently that he is only 3. I try to keep my expectations of him age appropriate. I also try not to eat a half of a bag of chips when I'm stressed out, but that doesn't always happen.
We'll get through it. At night, we always snuggle up for stories and kisses and I say a prayer of thanks that God provides these little moments. They're a reminder that he's my sweet boy and we're just going through some growing pains. I've heard that 4 is blissful compared to 3, so we're powering through to October.
Jesus help me when the Brothers turn 3. Someone send wine.