Wife and I have been parenting for well over ten years now and, up until very recently, never understood what the big deal was.
We’d hear people talk about how difficult it was and just sort of roll our eyes and mutter, “whatever.” Between our ten year old, Ace, and our five year old, Cool, we never had a lick of trouble as far as tantrums, shouting, hitting, biting, pushing, etc.
I’m almost embarrassed to tell people how well behaved those two are.
Both of them required nothing more than a one time verbal reprimand and they snapped right back into place. God forbid the words come out too loudly though, because they’d snap back into place and their lower lip would begin to quiver. There was never much yelling in the house, so they just weren’t used to it.
I attributed our good fortune in raising such easy kids to my excellent choice in mates. I’m a fairly laid back guy, and my wife is the same way. Neither of us is Type A or quick to anger or gets overly excited or emotional over every stupid little thing.
Much like breeding with a Chinese man will guarantee you that your kids will have some Chinese man traits, breeding with an idiot will guarantee you that your kids will have at least some idiot traits as well. Shame on people who have kids who are out of control, I always thought. It’s their genes that are part of the reason their kids are so awful, they just got what they had coming to them.
So when G$ surprised us by showing up in his mother’s womb one day, I just figured it’d be more of the same. Another angelic child who would cost us money we really didn’t have, yes, but not cause us anymore mental grief than the other two did.
He comes from the same set of chromosomes, so surely he’ll be more like his older brother and sister than not, right?
He’s a pill alone…
And with his brother and sister…
And on Christmas…
You’ll have to trust me when I say that I can post hundreds of these sorts of pictures, but I’ll spare you.
Our high and mightiness and good fortune with well behaved kids has been recognized and appropriately dealt with.
I am sorry Karma, for my delusions of parenting grandeur.
I promise that I am no longer of the opinion that I am grandeur, whatever that means.
We get it now.
The yelling, screaming, biting, pushing, hitting, and yes, even a public temper tantrum. We were THOSE people, in a Walmart of all places.
We understand all of it now, thanks to the little man.
It all started from in the womb, when he decided that coming out head first was total bullshit, so he made himself comfortable in a breech position.
Wife’s doctor and two other people literally wrestled him into the appropriate direction for egress via some awful procedure I vaguely recall being referred to as an e-version or something. There was a chance he’d be born that day, but it didn’t happen. All that procedure did, I think, was piss him off.
I thought we had another angel when he spared Wife a painful labor by making his way into the world more easily than the other two did. The doctor was about to say push, but wound up saying, “Wait, don’t push and oh, here he is!?”
Easiest birth ever! Well, don’t tell wife I said that, but it looked that way to me.
Anyway, that was the last easy thing he did for us, as he’s been a
dick handful ever since.
We tried to brush his behavior off using the usual parental excuses.
Yelling at the top of his lungs in public? – Sorry, he missed his nap.
Biting kids at the sitters? – Sorry, he must be teething.
Screaming no at everything and throwing shit all over the place? – Sorry, he must hungry.
Poking the neighbor lady in the eye? – Sorry, he’s just showing you affection.
Now we’re in the latter stages of the “terrible twos” I’d heard about but never had to contend with before.
Every night is a battle with that boy.
There’s so much yelling and screaming and pouting and throwing crap and pounding on things, it’s insanity. And all that is me reacting to him.
It’s gotten so bad that I did something for the first time ever that I swore I wouldn’t do.
I’m ashamed to even admit this, but I Googled how to deal with a toddler’s tantrums!
I know, right? Gasp!
As I suspected, most of the advice was a bunch of Kumbaya singing, tree hugger bullshit, so I lost interest pretty quickly.
I did decide that screaming back profanities at a two year old who’s pissed off for God know’s what reason is probably counter-productive, and slightly embarrassing, so I’ve promised to “remain calm” as a nod to the parenting websites.
Last night, I remained calm by stopping for gas and grabbing a twelve pack on the way home with the boys.
I drank some beer.
Then we ran to neighbor’s house to let their dog out while they were away, which for whatever reason, is fun for them.
I drank another beer.
The boy child “smelled” the neighbor’s candles and declared, “they smell like green!”
I drank another beer.
In spite of the shitty weather, and in honor of the Cardinal’s home opener, we played some ball together. G$ hasn’t taken an interest in sports like the other two had by his age, but he was on board last night.
They put on their game faces…
I drank another beer.
We had a lot of fun playing ball.
I had another beer, watched some basketball and didn’t yell as promised.
In spite of what G$ had to say, I declared the night a win.
I mean really, how seriously can you take a boy in skull pleated, women’s shoes?