I'm back, and true confessions

Well, we again have internet access. That was probably the stupidest decision I have made in the last quarter (I've been making some real winners) to disconnect the internet. I did it with the intent to save money, but as a result of that decision no money was saved, and a bunch was spent, not to mention the time and inconvenience of hauling a stubborn toddler and an iMac 9 miles sometimes twice a day (stupid naptime routine). Wouldn't you know as soon as we get internet access back, suddenly prices on gas plummet. So I guess you all have me to thank for the lower gas prices, heh, heh. I wasn't getting any freelance assignments when I made the decision, but wouldn't you know, a week after we cancel the internet the work starts rolling in.

The really ironic thing is that I'm typing this blog entry from Kyle's laptop at Mom and Dad's. Ollie is currently entirely distracted by the three children and daschund that are playing downstairs (thanks, guys!)

The only way I can get anything done is when Oliver is sleeping or if there are plenty of cousins around to distract him from tormenting me with his constant tantrums. He thinks that I am his personal jungle gym, and climbs all over me, pulls my hair, sits on my face. I thought his tantrums were bad before, and I thought that once he learned to speak it would just get easier to communicate and he wouldn't need to throw himself on the floor, or throw his toys (or head) at my head (I think I broke my nose on Monday). Boy was I ever wrong. His vocabulary is EXPLODING. And this is bad. The last three days have been such a string of tantrums that it feels like I have lived a month and not three days. And believe me, if there was some reason that he was throwing the tantrum that I could give in to, I would go against all parenting wisdom and TOTALLY give in to him. But I'm not even given that escape, because he and I have not an inkling on what will make him happy. I just don't understand where this demon possessed child has come from, it's like one morning he woke up and decided that nothing whatsoever in the world is right, and there is no distracting him from this determination. I've been reduced to living each moment feeling as if I'm walking on egg shells, because anything, literally ANY WRONG MOVEMENT might set him off. There is just now telling what it might be. It could be as simple as opening the wrong book, or putting a toothbrush on the wrong side of the counter top, or opening the wrapping on a granola bar. And after he has started into his mad tirade, there is no stopping him. I've tried ignoring him and shutting myself in my bedroom, but after 30 minutes of screaming and listening to the house be destroyed, I'm at my wits end. What's a person to do? So I grab the writhing, kicking, hitting, throwing, screaming demon-creature and try to stuff him into the car or into a stroller before he does himself more harm, and if I'm really really really lucky, he might be distracted enough from his personal hell to give me some peace form mine. And then we're back to the eggshells. It's enough to make a person a raving lunatic. And believe me. I HAVE. Maybe raving isn't an accurate description, though. Perhaps roaring, screaming, yelling, irrational, toddler-ish lunatic would be more accurate?

How does one use time-outs on such a child? When the tantrum has no obvious set-off and the poor behavior is the tantrum itself? "You get a time-out because you are pitching a fit?" Sit in this chair for 2 minutes until you can stop crying and act like a calm reasonable human being? Yeah, that'll happen. If he's screaming and kicking and pounding my door for THIRTY minutes, two minutes in a time-out chair are going to work wonders.

So, yeah, welcome to life with a two-year old, Megan. It's all you dreamed it would be, and more.

I'm reminded of sitting in one of my first college courses, I was taking Intro to Child Development, and the professor was saying that it might come as a big surprise to all of us, but there were definitely some times that our parents did not like us. And I WAS surprised, because I only ever thought of my parents as loving me ALWAYS. Which, I really am certain they do and always have and always will LOVE me. But it had never occured to me that they might not LIKE me. And now I understand. I do LOVE Oliver. But currently, I'm not much in like with him. I just really hope it is a stage, because if I've lived a month in three days, what kind of lifetimes am I going to live in the next 5, 18, 30, 50 years?

Character building, I suppose. What doesn't kill me, breaks me, right? And supposedly I'm supposed to be stronger for it, but I think I'm just uglier and nastier and setting a horrible example for Oliver of how to cope with desperation.

I guess you never really know yourself until you have kids.