Awww! He's growing up!
You'd think losing his first tooth would have sent me into a sputtering mess of "he's growing up so fast, I can't believe it!" Or maybe even the fact that he passed his Kindergarten assessment with flying colors (he got an award for it! One he ran out of the little colorful library to share with me). Or there is the counting to 100 milestone that I've heard non-stop about since he figured out the trick to making it happen. And of course he's got his first crush on one of the two girls in his pre-school class. The girl he draws cards and pictures for every night and secretly puts in her Go-Home folder before all the boys see (but he's not shy enough not to sign his name front and center).
Nope, none of that has phased this working mother of two into realizing her son is growing up into something called a kid. That is, until I had to put him in a REAL timeout the day before yesterday. For doing a Real Kid thing--talking back. In the worst possible way. Here's the scenario... oh wait, picture this after a full day of pain of mastitis and having to save face in front of a relative. One who is sitting on my couch in conversation and then this:
"Mom, I'm bored."
"Well, why don't you draw something. You have all of your pens and papers on the table."
"That's not exercise."
I nod in the direction of the relative and smile weakly, "You could try your play set in the back yard?" The one we paid a fortune for and spent and entire weekend putting together for your playing pleasure--and you've graced its swings/slide/sandbox a whole handful of times.
"No." Direct whine in my face. Then a stomp of the foot. Another yell, "No! That's not good enough!" And crying. Wailing to be exact.
Now, let me tell you--this doesn't seem like a big deal when I type it here. But my son never really acts like this. Ever. And now he is throwing a tantrum at 5 1/2 years old because he's bored and wants exercise? Threw me for at least 30 seconds. And then I gathered my wits.
"Kiddo," I place my hand on his shoulder which he--again out of character--shrugs off, "You need to go to your room for a time out. This reaction is not acceptable."
The fact that I kept my cool was odd for me. I mean, I was in pain. Lots of pain. Had barely slept a wink in over 24 hours (due to that exact same pain). And the fact that The Peanut would just not let me put her down AT ALL? I was stressed to my limit. Tired. I didn't need a child acting out over apparently nothing. Not to mention, I was holding a conversation with a baby on my hip, dinner cooking on a stove, and having what I can now only call idle conversation while waiting for my husband to come home.
Honestly, I wanted to just yell right back at him. Stomp my own feet, and list off my current ailments and issues. I had a lot of them. And in my eyes a bit more disconcerting than being bored and not being able to exercise (I only wish!). But instead, I did the mom thing: took his hand (that he continued to try to pull away from my grasp) and walked him to his room as his wailing kicked up at least volume increased at least 100 times. Once in his room, he did the drama filled--running to his bed, throwing himself atop, and burying his face in a pillow and stuffed Spiderman. And by some miracle, I calmly announced, "I'll be back in 5 minutes. Or when you are ready to talk."
An official time out for acting out and talking back. Wonderful. And in all fairness, The Kiddo is a good kid. This isn't typical behaviour as I know it is in many families. So we are lucky. But it was just so... unexpected. I felt outside myself actually. Which, I guess was what kept me so calm.
So now the complication begins. The who, what, where, and WHY a child acts out... in a world that is a bit bigger than my house, rules, and realm of understanding. This will get so much more fun when he's in high school won't it?
Nope, none of that has phased this working mother of two into realizing her son is growing up into something called a kid. That is, until I had to put him in a REAL timeout the day before yesterday. For doing a Real Kid thing--talking back. In the worst possible way. Here's the scenario... oh wait, picture this after a full day of pain of mastitis and having to save face in front of a relative. One who is sitting on my couch in conversation and then this:
"Mom, I'm bored."
"Well, why don't you draw something. You have all of your pens and papers on the table."
"That's not exercise."
I nod in the direction of the relative and smile weakly, "You could try your play set in the back yard?" The one we paid a fortune for and spent and entire weekend putting together for your playing pleasure--and you've graced its swings/slide/sandbox a whole handful of times.
"No." Direct whine in my face. Then a stomp of the foot. Another yell, "No! That's not good enough!" And crying. Wailing to be exact.
Now, let me tell you--this doesn't seem like a big deal when I type it here. But my son never really acts like this. Ever. And now he is throwing a tantrum at 5 1/2 years old because he's bored and wants exercise? Threw me for at least 30 seconds. And then I gathered my wits.
"Kiddo," I place my hand on his shoulder which he--again out of character--shrugs off, "You need to go to your room for a time out. This reaction is not acceptable."
The fact that I kept my cool was odd for me. I mean, I was in pain. Lots of pain. Had barely slept a wink in over 24 hours (due to that exact same pain). And the fact that The Peanut would just not let me put her down AT ALL? I was stressed to my limit. Tired. I didn't need a child acting out over apparently nothing. Not to mention, I was holding a conversation with a baby on my hip, dinner cooking on a stove, and having what I can now only call idle conversation while waiting for my husband to come home.
Honestly, I wanted to just yell right back at him. Stomp my own feet, and list off my current ailments and issues. I had a lot of them. And in my eyes a bit more disconcerting than being bored and not being able to exercise (I only wish!). But instead, I did the mom thing: took his hand (that he continued to try to pull away from my grasp) and walked him to his room as his wailing kicked up at least volume increased at least 100 times. Once in his room, he did the drama filled--running to his bed, throwing himself atop, and burying his face in a pillow and stuffed Spiderman. And by some miracle, I calmly announced, "I'll be back in 5 minutes. Or when you are ready to talk."
An official time out for acting out and talking back. Wonderful. And in all fairness, The Kiddo is a good kid. This isn't typical behaviour as I know it is in many families. So we are lucky. But it was just so... unexpected. I felt outside myself actually. Which, I guess was what kept me so calm.
So now the complication begins. The who, what, where, and WHY a child acts out... in a world that is a bit bigger than my house, rules, and realm of understanding. This will get so much more fun when he's in high school won't it?
Labels: motherhood, parenting, The Kiddo
