The Terrible 3's - Who Knew?!?

Do you know a well mannered three year old?  One that helps pick up toys, maybe says please when he wants something, or uses utensils to eat?  I don't.  See, I have a three year old, who I will affectionately call, Fireball.

He is called Fireball for a reason.  He has already vandalized the neighbors house, i.e. he threw a baseball at their window, leaving a perfect baseball-sized hole in it.  Last night, while trying to throw a dog bone, the bone bounced off the bicycle helmet he was wearing and hit another neighbor in the face.  That wasn't embarrassing at all!  The night before that he found a absolutely perfect rock for throwing at our front, glass door.  Thankfully, it only bounced off the glass.  Got lucky on that one!

But, tonight, oh tonight...Being the responsible and perfect mother that I am (sarcasm), I attempted to get the kiddos in bed early to start preparing them for the "school" sleep schedule.  Things were going well, which was really just an omen that they were about to go very badly, but I continued to ignore the warnings and floated along in bliss.

After putting Fireball to bed, I bathed Princess and got her ready for bed.  As I passed Fireballs bedroom door, I heard the sound of something rustling.  Rustling sounds from his room are never good.  I quickly opened the door, hoping to catch him in the act of whatever mischief he was making, and catch him I did.

As I opened the door, the first thought that crossed my mind was, "Geez, there is a lot of light in here."  Which quickly changed to, "Holy mother!  He ate the blinds!"  As I write this, I still cannot believe it.  Apparently, faux wood blinds are good to chew on while you are sitting in your room unable to fall asleep.

Incredulous, I asked the ridiculous question, "Did you chew your blinds?"  To which Fireball replied, "Ya," very proudly.  As I got closer to the area of destruction, I saw pieces of white faux wood blinds all over the floor.  Sadly, my only thought then was, "Well, at least he spit the stuff out."  For those readers who are judging me for even having blinds in my three year old's room, let me assure you the cords are secured and he can't access those.  Now that we have addressed that little panic attack...

So, there I am, with a gaping hole in the blinds, fake wood pieces all over the floor, and three year old with white plastic pieces stuck to his cheek.  Folks, I was at a total loss.  I mean, who the hell chews on blinds!!!  I thought we were over the "lets put weird things in our mouth" phase.  Apparently not.

As Fireball looked at me waiting for some type of response, I honestly did not have one.  Oh, and I forgot to mention he tore down the curtain rod as well, because who needs those!  People, as I stood looking at the decimation that one tiny person caused, I was at a total loss.  

What to do?  I simply wiped up the mess.  He then began demanding a drink of water, because apparently becoming Tyrannosaurus Rex to the blinds works up quite a thirst.  I explained, with all the patience I could muster, that he was not getting a drink of water.  I also explained that the blinds were coming down, since he decided he needed to destroy them.  I then walked out the room.

I think he was a little stunned as he was expecting a reaction of "shock and awe" from momma.  So, when he didn't get that he proceeded to cry and wail, until he finally fell asleep.  After sneaking back in to survey the damage, I'm giving his destruction an EF3 rating.

Tonight, I've been trying to remind myself that someday, he will outgrow all of this testing and button-pushing and blind eating.  I tell myself that, provided I don't break his spirit, he will grow into an assertive man who will lead others with his outgoing personality.  I really am trying to think that.  But sometimes I wonder if I will survive this phase with my sanity intact.  And I continue to ponder that until I check on Tyrannosaurus Rex, who is now peacefully sleeping in his bed.  Looking at him, I take a deep breath, stroke his hair, and try to prepare myself for whatever tomorrow holds, even if it's chewing on the blinds.

Fumbing Toward Friday

In the land of mommyhood, there is a lot of fumbling.  You know, the fumbling that goes with locating your lost keys in the refrigerator right next to the box of Capri-Sun.  Or the kind that intends to be loaded into the mini-van at 7:05, but it's 7:15 and Princess still can't find her shoes.  Or, my personal favorite, the moment when you fudge on the well-child checkup form when asked how much time your toddler spends watching TV a day, and you figure that 2.5 hours can really be rounded to 1, seeing as your little fireball only sits still for a whole five minutes at a time.

But maybe it's just me...  After doing a very scientific poll of my mommy friends, this involved a research center called Starbucks, what I found was, IT'S NOT JUST ME!  There are a whole slew of us fumbling toward Friday and every day after that, just trying to survive this thing called parenthood.  And, it really doesn't seem to matter if some of us work outside the home, inside the home or live on a farm or in the city.  What we all crave is some time to be REAL.  To say it like it is, not what we want everyone to believe it is.  And what is IT?  It is being ON 24/7 as a parent, boo boo kisser, ego healer, minor first-aid provider, and above all, safe harbor.  IT is hard, and sometimes, IT sucks.  There, I said it.  Sometimes it's awful, and we need to be able to call it like it is.  To quit feeling like we need to sugar-coat it to avoid the judgement of the mommies and folks that we wrongly perceive "have it all together."

So, that's what this space is for.  It's for talking about the times that everything goes wrong, and the amazing times when everything goes right.  For the times that you are dying to just go to the bathroom without an audience, and for the times you stop in the madness of your day and take a moment to feel grateful for all the craziness.

Because here is what is certain.  One day we will be done with diapers, carpools, soccer games, homework, and temper tantrums.  There will be no more food caked to the underside of the dining table, no more sticky fingerprints on the living room wall, and no more bicycles left laying out in the yard.  They will be gone, moving to the rhythm of their own craziness, and we will be longing for just one more week of fumbling toward Friday.