On Thursday I underwent a transformation. For most of the morning I was a reasonably even-tempered (not perfect, of course) mom humoring her toddler and playing with her baby. And then we went to the grocery store. Andrew wanted to sit in the car in front of the cart--which was fine, great even, because it had a strap. But not very long into our trip he started whining to get out. And I, foolishly, let him out, after reviewing our rules for good behavior in the store (i.e., if he touches anything or runs away he has to go back in the cart). And of course, it took all of thirty seconds for him to start breaking rules. I warned him, and then, after the second infraction, I tried to put him back in the cart. Since he is now approximately 40 inches and 38-9 lbs, trying to stick him back inside the little car so I could strap him down (Evelyn was occupying the other set of straps, and there were too many groceries in the back of the cart) involved a lot of straining on my part and a lot of screaming on Andrew's part. In fact, he screamed so long and so loud that I was afraid he would start puking, so I consoled him that, if he was good, I would let him out again. He calmed down, swore he would be good, and I (foolishly, again) let him out (again).
And thus began my transformation from a mild-mannered Dr. Jekyllish sort of person to something more resembling Mr. Hyde (but not this one, thank goodness!). I was already frustrated because of feeling humiliated as I tried to force a reluctant toddler into the car/cart (I'm sure there were people in the store wondering if they needed to call child services), but after Andrew got out of the cart again he began to flout our rules again. While I was trying to evaluate which brand of sauce to buy, Andrew wandered down to the end of the aisle, started taking things off the shelf, and then, before I could catch up with him, skipped around the corner--which meant I had to temporarily abandon Evelyn to grab him. I saw red. Hot, surging, unreasoning anger. I wanted--quite literally--to strangle him. I refrained, but the force of that sudden rush of anger was a little frightening. What is it, I wonder, about this child whom I love more than my own life, that makes me so spitting angry? How is it that I can have reached adulthood with a reasonable self-control (again, not perfect, but most of the time I manage to control things), and yet have this two-almost-three-year-old undo all of my good intentions so fast? Are all children like this? Or we just peculiarly blessed (or am I just peculiarly weak)? I've talked with a few other moms--enough to suspect that I'm not alone in this transformation, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating, or challenging.
But at least I've learned one thing: next time we go to the store, Andrew stays in the cart!
3 comments:
How glad I am to read this, Rosalyn! I find myself falling into this "transformation" you speak of almost every day. Then I feel guilty for having such harsh feelings toward my own children. I know one thing: I am certainly enjoying Rebekah's baby stages much more than I did with the first two, probably because now I know what comes next!
I miss our commiserations (is that even a word?) we used to have together in PA. It's fun to read your blog, though. I hope you don't mind that I put your link on our blog (we just started one: dwyaneandemily.blogspot.com).
Congratulations! You've entered a new (and completely normal) level of parenting. Next step: loosing your voice from yelling, and gaining a major headache from yelling/tension.....but wait, you'll never get to that step, right? That's what I thought! I always thought I was patient. ha ha ha ha.
One word for you... PRESCHOOL! We never take our busiest boy to the store with us anymore, we go while he is at school. But, we feel your pain as we are also "peculiarly blessed". Good luck!
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