It was just one of those days.
I took the boys to storytime at the library in a neighboring town. Meatball slept through the whole thing; The Boy just wanted to run around the library pulling stuff off the shelves. No interest in what was going on, at all, until after it was over. He then decided that he wanted to play with the display posters and then he wanted to play with the shakers and bells that had been passed out. After I saw another kid put it in his mouth.
Every so often I tried to bring him back to where the other kids were (not that they were all perfect but they at least stayed in the general vicinity). Fitfitfit.
Got home and tried to figure out if I wanted to go to Trader Joe's or if I wanted to get him to nap first, and also time the visit with Musical Daddy's prep so we could stop by and get kisses. He ate a bowl of cereal and then after various home things (changing of diapers, feeding of Meatball), we went, because he didn't seem tired.
He was falling asleep in the car on the way home. Thinking about it, I should have kept driving and kept the nap going. Nope. Moved him in, where it took him well over an hour to fall asleep.
We wanted to keep our 3:30 PM playground date, which I initiated. Stupid me, I woke him. I had, in the meantime, been having some quality Meatball time.
I woke him, with medicine. Even dumber. He was physically fighting me the whole way.
He didn't want to wear a coat. He didn't want to wear shoes. I got him to wear shoes by the time we got to the park.
It was a bit cold. I should have pushed the issue of the coat but it was the sort of cold that if you are walking around and playing and such, you don't really need a coat. He started out not walking around. I shouldn't have stayed, because he wouldn't wear the coat.
This playground is new to him, and it has some familiar fixtures. I was proud to see him climb the step wall (a bit like a rock wall except with wood blocks that are easier to navigate). That's about all he did physically.
We had friends show up just when I was about to leave. I should have left.
He was shivering and still wouldn't wear his coat. Finally we did leave.
I had offered him food before we left the house. I had offered him food when we arrived at the park. When we were leaving, he throws a fit because he is hungry.
Meatball is also fussing at this point. I just wanted to leave.
When we got home, The Boy throws a fit because I took him out of the carseat and put him down. Generally, he walks into the garage without an issue. Sometimes, usually when it is most inconvenient, he throws fits. So I brought Meatball into the garage.
It gets a little fuzzy after that, because both children were screaming at me. Meatball needed to be fed. So did The Boy. But The Boy wouldn't tell me what he wanted. Finally, I just shut The Boy in his room for a minute because I couldn't take it anymore.
At least then I could calm Meatball a little bit and then figure out what in the heck The Boy wanted without him getting agitated by Meatball's yelling.
It's very trying. They call it the Terrible Twos. It makes me feel like a Terrible Mommy. Because I'm always agitated with him.
But I am careful not to yell at The Boy, or smack him. Why? Because where can I go from there? If he already knows that I'm going to yell or hit him, why should he bother listening? There are plenty of kids whose parents do spank or smack their hands, and they do something wrong and hold out their hand for a smack. Seems pretty counterproductive. At least if I continue to be gentle, even if I am angry in my head and my teeth clench twenty times a day, I can hope that he will eventually do what he is supposed to do, with the knowledge that it is asked of him with love.
In the meantime, I'm going batty. And must re-read Love and Logic. Twenty times.