Cranky-man Syndrome

Sometime last year, J gave up napping. It happens once kids turn two. They decide that napping is for the birds and stop doing it. The fools! As any parent knows, this often leads to late-afternoon crankiness. Unfortunately for me, J’s late-afternoon crankiness typically manifests in the middle of dinner and lasts until he falls asleep.

He has a fantastic ability to flip the switch on this crankiness too. Of the many things my boys can do, this one might be the most impressive. It starts with refusing to finish or even eat his dinner. We struggle to get a few bites in, then comes tubby time. He’s ok until it’s time to get cleaned up and out. That’s when the tears and the screaming starts. He becomes damn near inconsolable during clean-up, drying off, and getting dressed. If he’s feeling particularly cranky, it goes through teeth brushing as we settle down to sleep. There may be a few pockets of calm here or there, but it’s mostly loud and grating on the nerves.

As he gets older, the cranky-man tantrums are fewer and farther between — THANK GOD — but when they flair up, all I can do is take a deep breath and hang on for the bumpy ride until he falls asleep.

At the end of a long day, because it’s always a long day when this happens, I find myself praying for the patience of Job or a tequila IV, whichever is easiest. It’s days like this when I want to say, “Yea, f*ing right!” to anyone who tells me I will miss these days. Sure, I’ll miss the cuddles and the funny little things he comes up with, but I will be happy when tantrums aren’t the go-to method for communicating. I also know the day will come when waking him up before noon will bring its own frustrations. But for now, I’ll breathe my way through tantrums until I have to hold my nose to wake him up.

Wins Will Come, and They Will Definitely Go

Some days, I feel like I have this mom thing down. Everyone sleeps through the night — not in their own bed — but through the night nonetheless. Then there are other days when everything I thought I knew goes flying out the window and I realize I’m Jon Snow beyond the Wall.

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Thursday was unseasonably warm for mid-February, so I took J to the park. As we were walking up to it, I overheard two money talking about how they just wished their kids would listen sometimes. “Mom just needs a win.”

And isn’t it something how little it takes for we moms — and dads — to feel like we’re ok. That we’re on the right track and everything really is going to be ok. Right now, as parents to tiny humans, it’s hard for everything we do wrong to feel like an epic Bay of Pigs level failure.

It occurred to me the other day that the reason we think our failures are so epic is because when our kids feel, they feel BIG. That morning, for example, a different van picked C up for school. The seatbelt on his usual seat was broken — the strap that allows me to loosen and tighten the straps was broken — and this was unacceptable to young C. He had a total meltdown. Was damn near inconsolable. It took about fifteen minutes to get him into buckled into another seat.

After the bus was gone, I talked myself down for calling the bus company and yelling at the dispatcher about the broken seatbelt. I also talked myself down from posting a rant on my town’s mom’s page. Instead l, I took a deep breath, messaged C’s teacher in the app to let her know he’d be coming in hot so that they would be prepared to console him. Then I took J to the park.

What I’ve learned in the almost five years that I’ve been mom-ing is — can’t believe C will be five soon😬🥰 — if my reactions are as big as his, then we’ll never grow. Him as a boy who needs to learn how to manage emotions and me as his mother who needs to teach him how.

So yea, some days you’ve got it all together. Some days you don’t. And some days, it starts well only to fall apart and come back together again…and then maybe fall apart again by bath time. It’s the cycle we live in now as parents that won’t end until…we’ll I don’t think it ever ends.

***inhales deeply, long exhale, followed by a looooooong sip of wine.***

Pacify My Soul

There comes a time in life when we have to put away childish things. Unfortunately, my one-year-old doesn’t understand that. In his defense, he is only one…

My kid is late to the whole teeth game. They are slowly, but surely coming in, which means many nights of interrupted sleep. His pacifier is the only thing that satiates him when the pain becomes unbearable (and before the Motrin kicks in). Lord knows we have a lot of them. From regular pacifiers that we keep in the freezer to the Wubbanubs with various stuffed animals attached to them, we are never without one.

Like most parents, we also use the pacifier to stop the irrational screaming. Why do they do that? One minute toddlers are happy, lovable, cuddly creatures, and the next minute they’re channeling Linda Blair. The aptly named pacifier is always there to the rescue. Alas, my husband and I have realized that the time to ween him from the pacy is drawing near.

We don’t know how or when we’re going to do it yet, but the fact is we’ve all become too dependent on it. Just this morning, he had a meltdown because I accidentally put it up too high for him to reach. I quickly dropped what I was doing (dishes) and handed it to him. I swear if we, as adults, had meltdowns like this, we’d all be locked up in asylums.

If I’m being completely honest, I’m afraid to take away his pacifier for good. I know that we have to teach him to manage his emotions and make sure his teeth come in properly, so we don’t have to pay for braces. I just want to know, is there a way to skip over the meltdowns and go straight to a well-mannered, even-tempered child?