Ella has a drawer full of PJ’s, Thomas PJ’s, John Deere PJ’s, Buzz Lightyear PJ’s, and one lonely pair of princess PJ’s. She refuses to wear the princess PJ’s that, for the record, she picked out.
“Please? Please wear your princess PJ’s, Ella?” I plead. Again, for the record, it’s because I don’t want to see something go unused! It seems so wasteful! “It would make mommy so happy.”
Carson is having a rough time. I’d say that’s he’s been having a rough time lately, but really, it all started the second week after he was born and “colic” set in. It’s been over five years and I’m starting to understand that his “colic” was really just his personality. He can be difficult to please and is, I’ll say, high strung.
He can be the kindest, most gentle and sensitive child you’ve ever met. Then a switch is flipped (he’s told “no”) and I’m shocked at how he speaks to me, the words that come out of his five-year-old mouth, with such attitude and disrespect.
“Where does he hear this kind of talk?”
“How do we handle this?”
“What are we doing wrong?” Tate and I wrestle daily with the questions and the dozens (millions?) of solutions that haven’t worked.
Our one consolation is that he is adored by his teachers at school. Then again, maybe consolation isn’t the right word. It’s a relief, relief that he’s not treating his teachers with the same contempt.
For a special treat after a mostly good day, I took the kids out for pizza. Going out for pizza always seems like the perfect thing to do with little kids.
This time it wasn’t.
It was all because I ordered him Sprite. Of course it was.
“SPRITE?!,” he yelled in front of the waitress. (Which made it worse! Others witnessing his outbursts always makes it feel even worse!) “You KNOW I don’t like SPRITE! I wanted chocolate milk!” If his looks could kill, well, I’d be keeled over in a booth in a pizzeria right now.
I didn’t yell, for this I was beyond proud of myself. I waited until we got home and very calmly told him that he wouldn’t be watching an episode of one of his favorite shows, Spectacular Spiderman, before bed.
I still didn’t yell, even though his reaction was less than favorable. Can you imagine?
Ella had her bath and was trying so hard to be on her best behavior, enjoying being the child who wasn’t in trouble. She was pulling out all the stops with the “I love yous” and the “you’re so prettys.” All of this was to a chorus of screaming in the background.
“Mommy, I’ll wear my princess PJ’s tonight. That would make you happy, right?”
My heart then broke into pieces.
Today I’m feeling like maybe I’m not very good at this. Also filed under: exhausted.