The mommy blogger within is begging to come out to play today.
Why you may ask?
Because my kids are driving me freaking crazy! AHHHHHH!
Last night in a moment of despiration seeking a precious period of peace we went to McDonald’s. Elijah could run wild for a moment and Michael could eat some fries, and I could just have three feet of personal space.
Michael spent the whole 45 minutes we were there trying to climb out of the highchair. I would pick him up, put him down and then he would want back in the highchair to have a few more fries. Then you hit the repeat button a few times on that EXCEPT replace the high chair with my lap and you know how I spent MY 45 minutes.
Elijah is now a five and a half years old, and takes every opportunity to test his limits. I know I was there to let him run wild, but controlled run wild. Which he could not do. Every three minutes I was yelling at him to get off the TOP of the shoe holder and stop jumping from bench to bench.
WHY COULDN’T HE JUST PLAY!? LIKE A GOOD KID! I am raising him right, but man his independant wild streak is —ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!
THEN he had to go to the bathroom. This is why I only let him play for 45 minutes…
He threw the BIGGEST, MOST EXCESSIVE temper tantrum of his short life. He was saying he was about to pee in his pants, BUT he wasn’t wearing shoes. I looked down and he had even taken his socks off – great – diseases are caught that way.
UGH! I said you need to go get your shoes. You would think that a polite kid would kindly walk to the cubbies where the shoes are held, collect them, and kindly walk them back to the table to put them on.
This did not happen.
He flopped like a fish to the floor. “BUT UGH…I HAVE TO GO NOW!!!”
I gave him a stern look and said, “Get your shoes, the floor is gross ESPECIALLY in the bathroom!”
Enter puppy dog eyes, a little more fish flopping, and some indeterminant grunting.
I was livid. “GET YOUR SHOES!”
By this time I had the attention of every other parent in the playplace. (There is a reason these don’t exist in upstate NY anymore. You guys must have all gotten together and protested their existence because of seens like this one!)
He continues for another minute while I walk to the cubbies and get the shoes myself. I pick up my flopping five year old and set him on a table. I put his socks and shoes back on him. I throw all the garbage away. I pick up Michael and head out the door.
Elijah is now flopping like a fish again on the floor.
Ugh! REALLY!? I think to myself. “Get out this door RIGHT NOW!”
Puppy dog eyes and a sniff…and a very forceful crossing of the arms.
I continue to walk out the door of the play place…he wasn’t expecting that. He gets up and we walk to the bathroom. An older lady is walking out at the same time and gets very concerned…she stands there holding the bathroom door. He refuses to use the bathroom.
“No. I don’t need to go.”
“Elijah you said you were about to pee your pants.”
Oh my freaking God! Lord! Father Jesus help me keep my temper!
I tell the lovely older lady “Thank you, but apparently he’s changed his mind. Elijah out to the car.”
Another round of fish flopping. Grunts and a few “no”s.
I crouch down, get right in his ear, “If you don’t get out of here and into the car Right Now I am going to pick you up and take you out of here myself. You are a big boy and this is not how a big boy acts.”
Now we are at full blown tears. Michael is pointing at him and yelling, like he is telling him off only it is indecernable as Michael can’t speak yet.
Eventually we get into the car…Elijah continues to cry. I sigh and drive off.
Another enchanting evening under the Harvest moon.
Ahhh, parenthood…don’t you want to join the fun?