I’ve been listening to oldies with the kids… WHOA-HOLD UP! You’re saying the music of my youth is now considered an… oldie?
You poor, sweet delusional dear. Yes, the 80s and 90s–you know, the good stuff– now seeds the pandora rewind stations. Affront will get you nowhere, but you can expose your children to quality music… There is NO NEED TO KNOW A BIEBER SONG. Pfft, I had NKOTB. Bieber.
Anyway, this post nothing to do with music, but it’s a catchy title.
First, my children were delightful yesterday. They let me piddle about, sorta finishing a few projects. I let them hammer some nails. They let me pull weeds in the garden; I gave them the worms I found. They let me use the glue gun in peace; I let them throw paint, Jackson Pollack style. Z named his half, “spilled drink” and E went for “messy forest”.
They both took naps– who hates DST? Not me!
Which explains why I had patience in reserves for today. Well-timed, when faced with one 3 year old’s 45 minute tantrum. A tantrum prompted by my refusal to pull over and TIE HIS SHOES.
About…what? Yeessss, rolling down the road at 65 MPH. Sure, kid.
I was reasonable. He was screeching.
I turned the radio on. He reasonably requested I turn it off.
I complied; he wailed, “M-oommm, can you please tie my shoe”. Resume NPR.
On and on we played that game– or at least for the 5 minutes it takes that damn light to change.
The whole way through the neighborhood–oh hello sexy firemen washing the big red truck. No, no– don’t mind the screaming; he’s fine..
Octopus sticky arms when getting out of the car. Fingernails ripping at the door jam as I try to juggle all my crap, the wiggling demon and unlock front door. Pause to be impressed by his strength, considering he is all of 29 pounds.
Screaming and wailing the entire time. Oh hello neighbor who only ever sees me when one of my children is freaking out, or the dog has escaped. No need to call CPS. .
I cuddled him on the couch, murmuring reassuring words, all zen-hippie-mom. When that failed, I tried tickling him. When that failed (epic failure, BTW), we headed to his bed, where I spent the next 15 minutes trying to not get covered in tantrum-induced puke. Because that bit of yuck–which included an unrelated kid puking orange juice in my FACE– only needs to happen to me once in my lifetime, thankyouverymuch.
By the way, zen-hippie-mom is not my typical response to a 45 minute tantrum. And no, I didn’t score any valium. But he rallied so much on that 2 mile walk today, though obviously exhausted after Mile 1–no tantrums or making me carry him. I owed him a bit of emotional payback. And I was all endorphin-pumped from my wee run last night (stupid shin splint!), and the fresh spring air today.
He’s napping now–finally! About 15 minutes ago, I heard him sleep-whine: mom, can you please tie my shoes.
Precious, just precious.