I stopped reading “Your Three Year Old, Friend or Enemy?” because whatever Arlo was going through about a month ago passed.
Stupid, stupid Momma.
We’ve had a very rough four days and today is not looking any better. It is back, whatever it is, and it is ugly.
“NO!” “I DON’T LIKE IT!” and the do-you-even-hear-yourself-at-that-volume “I WANT IT RIGHT NOW!” with the required flailing/kicking/throwing are the new norm. What I’m also hearing though are more complex and frequent compound sentences. For example, “Juliet is sick. Juliet cannot go to school because she is sick.” (Poor Juliet!) And “Momma we do not need the light on Momma because . . . because Momma it is daytime now.” (Have you noticed that three-year olds cannot speak in contractions? It makes their already earnest effort to communicate that much more dramatic.) And walking away while pushing his toy grocery cart, “See you soon Momma. I am going to the store Momma to buy you some cookies. See you soon.” This last one elicited from me such a swoon and surge of love because let me tell you, I fucking love cookies.
So my ears are telling me something serious is happening with my child’s development and my eyes give me a further sign: ankles and wrist bones everywhere. He’s suddenly grown out of his clothes and now I’m wondering if we’re going to make it through this winter without a whole new wardrobe.
Growing pains. Everything in his little body and brain are spiraling upwards and it is making him crazy. As everything in my big body spirals outward I can sympathize, but helldamnfire, please let this phase pass quickly. I don’t know how much more we can manage and there are two of us to his one. In just a few short weeks we will be double-teamed. That’s math and no one likes math.
Going out for a walk this weekend with my camera, depleted patience and bad attitude, the environs made me think about what Kris and I have to continually remind/ask each other these days:
“What’s running through your veins?”
It would be so, so much easier just giving in.