Mixed Bag
Today has been a parenting challenge. The Nugget is evidently going through one of those nightmarish growth spurts where she is not coping well with, well, anything. Which means none of us is coping well with anything because, dear heavens, we all must pay for her suffering. I can't complain most of the time about my child - she does not generally challenge authority, she is not a big tantrum thrower, she doesn't hit people. She loves school, reading, and hugs. But when it's bad, and it has been today, it's oh so bad. Some highs and lows from today:
Low: Nugget awakens at 6:00AM and cannot be convinced to fall back to sleep.
High: Nugget allows me to go back to sleep on the couch while she watches PBS.
High: We enjoy a lovely breakfast partially including delicious homemade zucchini bread.
Low: Nugget becomes frustrated with The Mister because he is wearing her pretend doctor stethoscope to her picnic and rips it from his ears. I ask her to apologize which she apparently equates to being doused in sizzling acid and a nuclear tantrum the size of which has not been seen since the end of her second year (and I had naively thought might be gone for good) erupts for the next half an hour. Many things are thrown. Much screaming ensues. Tears, oh the tears.
High: Nugget does eventually apologize and we are able to continue our pretend picnic in harmony.
High: Nugget and I make several sun catchers and a bracelet together.
High: Nugget and I visit Starbucks where she enjoys a vanilla milk and a lemon cake pop and I enjoy a Frappucino. Fine, and a salted carmel cake pop.
Low: Later, at the lovely farmer's market, Nugget throws down a toothpick in rage because she is not allowed to eat a second sample of cheese. She decides to make this a standoff and refused to pick up the toothpick.
High: We visited a lovely farmer's market and the cheese stand was actually the last place we were stopping before leaving, so it was easy to storm on out.
High: We decided to go to our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner.
Low: As we are leaving, Nugget leaps over a pile of toys and rams right into my head. When I ask her to please watch where she is going next time, she again throws herself into a rage and starts to pick up a nearby object to throw. At this point, I finally lose my cool and yell in my VERY. LOUD. VOICE. I may or may not threaten her life. The dog goes into hiding from all the yelling. Again, epic tantrum ensues.
High: Epic tantrum was much shorter and we are able to have a family conversation about anger, how to cope and how we still love each other no matter what (even if she had been screaming just moments before that she, in fact, did NOT love us anymore). We make it to the restaurant and enjoy a nice dinner.
High: Even as I type this, it is The Mister's night to put The Nugget to bed, so I am sitting in blissful quiet and have no current desires to strangle anyone.
Looking back over it, the highs certainly outweigh the lows, but they were some pretty rough lows. I hope we are in for a better day tomorrow. Other parents, please tell me you sometimes use your VERY. LOUD. VOICE. I never feel good about myself when it happens, but it sure happens once in a while.
Low: Nugget awakens at 6:00AM and cannot be convinced to fall back to sleep.
High: Nugget allows me to go back to sleep on the couch while she watches PBS.
High: We enjoy a lovely breakfast partially including delicious homemade zucchini bread.
Low: Nugget becomes frustrated with The Mister because he is wearing her pretend doctor stethoscope to her picnic and rips it from his ears. I ask her to apologize which she apparently equates to being doused in sizzling acid and a nuclear tantrum the size of which has not been seen since the end of her second year (and I had naively thought might be gone for good) erupts for the next half an hour. Many things are thrown. Much screaming ensues. Tears, oh the tears.
High: Nugget does eventually apologize and we are able to continue our pretend picnic in harmony.
High: Nugget and I make several sun catchers and a bracelet together.
High: Nugget and I visit Starbucks where she enjoys a vanilla milk and a lemon cake pop and I enjoy a Frappucino. Fine, and a salted carmel cake pop.
Low: Later, at the lovely farmer's market, Nugget throws down a toothpick in rage because she is not allowed to eat a second sample of cheese. She decides to make this a standoff and refused to pick up the toothpick.
High: We visited a lovely farmer's market and the cheese stand was actually the last place we were stopping before leaving, so it was easy to storm on out.
High: We decided to go to our favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner.
Low: As we are leaving, Nugget leaps over a pile of toys and rams right into my head. When I ask her to please watch where she is going next time, she again throws herself into a rage and starts to pick up a nearby object to throw. At this point, I finally lose my cool and yell in my VERY. LOUD. VOICE. I may or may not threaten her life. The dog goes into hiding from all the yelling. Again, epic tantrum ensues.
High: Epic tantrum was much shorter and we are able to have a family conversation about anger, how to cope and how we still love each other no matter what (even if she had been screaming just moments before that she, in fact, did NOT love us anymore). We make it to the restaurant and enjoy a nice dinner.
High: Even as I type this, it is The Mister's night to put The Nugget to bed, so I am sitting in blissful quiet and have no current desires to strangle anyone.
Looking back over it, the highs certainly outweigh the lows, but they were some pretty rough lows. I hope we are in for a better day tomorrow. Other parents, please tell me you sometimes use your VERY. LOUD. VOICE. I never feel good about myself when it happens, but it sure happens once in a while.
Oh, I'm sure the neighbors can hear me even with the windows closed.
ReplyDelete"Pretend picnic in harmony" was my favorite part. :-)
Guilty. But no worries. We have loud voices for a reason. I'm not always sure what the reasons are but alas, parenting, life, etc.
ReplyDelete