I have no control of my three year old. I really don't. In so many ways, he's the best kid in the world, in other ways, he's not. He doesn't listen to me. He's very angry with me about this baby who decided to invade our house! Mostly, he's having a hard time with the million changes in his life over the past five months or so.
A few days ago, I took the boys to the pediatrician for Daniel's 4-month well check up (FOUR MONTHS!). Nathan was NUTS. He ran from the room twice, laughing maniacally all the way. I couldn't even communicate with the doctor, because if I stopped paying attention to him, he'd do something. It was so frustrating.
When we left the office, everyone was looking at me with pity.
Later that day, I took the boys to the park just a few blocks from us. Once we got there, Nathan decided he didn't want to be there. I forcibly removed him from the car. He played for a little while, and then decided to play in the water fountain, because he's a three year old boy. After he was crazy drenched, I decided it was time to go home. Nathan disagreed and was completely uncooperative. Daniel decided to melt down at that time too. So, I'm dragging a little boy and pushing an hysterical baby in the stroller. This woman getting into her car rocked Daniel in the stroller while I strapped Nathan into the car, a ridiculously long process. After I got everything put together, the woman looked at me with something more than pity. I think it was a little disgust.
Sometimes I think about what my dad keeps saying: I had no idea what I was in for by having (God forbid) two kids. Sometimes I think I ruined Nathan's life. But this baby. He's so wonderful. I know that Nathan loves him too. It's just hard right now. I've got to muddle through the judgment that I'm receiving. I've got to deal with my horrible impatient heart. I know that Nathan is a good boy, but it's just a rough time.
I'm that mom who has the little boy who acts like a little boy going through a tough time. I'm that mom whose infant cries a lot. I'm that mom who is a little impatient (a lot actually) and isn't always proud of what I say to my child. I'm that mom. The real one.