Let's pretend this is my own personal venting journal because what this post will entail should actually be personal and written in my very own (real) journal. But let's face it- no one reads my journal and no one can give me advice on something they can't read.
Cyberworld- WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I feel like I'm going to have a nervous breakdown half of the time while the other half is filled with feelings of "I can't believe this is my life and how did I get so lucky?!" Such polar opposite feelings. I am sick and tired of seeing people who are sickeningly happy and never lose their cool with their kids ( I know, it's just a facade yada yada yada.....) Am I that bad of a mother? Am I really crazier than the rest of the population? Seriously, my two year old is going to be the death of me.
I will give you two scenarios:
#1. Sean woke up this morning happy as always. Smiling and ready for the day. I say, "Let's change your diaper." He immediately throws himself on the floor screaming, "Noooo........." I proceed to try and change his diaper with him kicking and screaming and throwing a major fit. While at the same time wanting to crawl back in my warm blanket and sleep another year til his tantrum is over.
#2. I reluctantly decided it was best to go on a jog if I wanted to lose that forty pounds that was supposed to be gone a month ago. So, we suit up and go. Good run. After having a massive heart attack we end up at the park like I promised the boys. We play. Sean runs away from me and almost ends up in the street. After I threaten time out a few times I leave Jake in the swing to get Sean. I then decide it was best to go home, of course. Sean agreed, surprisingly. I think, ok, that was a miracle and the day may turn out ok. At the car, I sit Jake next to the car and hope and pray another car won't decide to make a crazy wild turn and run him over. Sean is supposed to "touch the car" while I put the stroller in my backseat since we live in a condo without a garage. Sean would rather run around the car instead. I throw the massive stroller in and hope I didn't break anything as I slam it shut (and hope nothing falls out when I open it next time). I pick up Jake and go to take Sean's hand and he pulls my arm off trying to get away and then when I tell him he has to hold my hand and we're going up three flights of stairs to our condo he throws himself on the concrete and smacks something. While holding Jake I pick Sean up. No blood. I proceed to carry both boys up the three flights of stairs. Did I mention I live up three flights of stairs. Sean is screaming and I yell, "Look at that bird" in an overly cheerful voice to hopefully deflect his attention to the amazing vulture (that doesn't really exist by the way.) We get inside and I finally get what he is saying, "Car. Go." He wanted to get inside the car and go somewhere apparently. After fifteen more tantrums, he finally takes a nap.
Whew! After half a dozen cookies, diet mountain dew, a few distressing thoughts, I am calm now.
