This Weekend

My plan for this weekend has me all torn up inside. Recently, as you may know from my previous blog, I have been pretty stressed out with the kids, specifically L. I do ok during the week and then the weekend comes along and I find myself yelling, seething, and constantly losing my patience.
And it's scaring me.
I don't want to be that mom. I don't want to be.....my mom.
I hesitate to write that, because I love her so much. She was a great mother. But most of my memories of my older childhood are of her yelling. A lot.
I can't blame her. She was a stay-at-home (mostly) mom of four kids. My dad worked, often long hours. We had a limited budget. Many, many things that will stress a mom out. And although she had many friends, I don't think she had a large support network. She didn't have ECE training, or parenting magazines, or the internet to help her learn new ways to deal with different situation. (Ok, that sounds conceited. I'm not trying to say that I'm a better mom than she was just because I have ECE training, I just maybe have more insight into some situations.) She did the best she could. But my memories are of a grumpy mom. I specifically remember loving the holidays (vacations or Christmas) because that's when my mom would be happier.
And that proves the old adage: Happy mom, happy kids.
So back to my dilemma, what's tearing me up. Last weekend, I found myself crying, and telling myself that I really needed a break. And that I would take one.
DH is planning to go to the cottage this weekend. As you know, not my favourite place, but it is his. For you Americans, it is a long weekend here; Canada Day is July 1st, and happens to fall on a Friday this year. So that means DH would probably leave and go up to the cottage on Thurs night.
I told him yesterday that I wasn't going.
DH- "WHY?" (now looking very disgruntled)
Me- "I really need a break. I really need this if I am going to spend the next nine weeks surrounded by kids and fighting."
DH - silence.
Me- "What are you thinking?"
DH- "I'm just disappointed I guess."
Here's where I'm thinking, Does he want me to come because he will miss me? or Does he want me to come because he knows this means he's left with the kids on his own?
I thought I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. I assumed he meant he wanted to be with me. So I offered a compromise. "Why don't we give the kids to your mom, and we could have the weekend to ourselves?" (We haven't had that in, well, forever.)
DH - (in an almost whiny tone) "But I really want to go to the cottage."
Ok, fine. Guess that answers my question. So apparently, my needs are not important. It doesn't matter that I'm stressed. It doesn't matter that we haven't had couple time in forever. It only matters that he gets what he wants. So now I'm made to feel guilty for wanting some sanity. For wanting to regain my composure, to feel like an adult instead of a mom.
Part of me is saying that it's not as bad as all that. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. We aren't very good communicators. Probably because I bottle everything up out of past experiences of learning that being emotional gets me nowhere with him. He is very stubborn. And if he does give in to what I want, he will sulk and be sullen about it, for AGES!! Boy that guy can hold a grudge! So I probably should talk to him, and let him know that us spending alone time together is very important to us as a couple.
But then there's the selfish part of me that wants to be ALONE alone. No one else. Free to have the whole bed, to eat when I want, to eat what I want (not what I think is a decent compromise of all the family's likes and dislikes), to run on my own schedule. To have NO schedule! So I don't know if I want to change his mind...Plus that selfish part wants him to suffer. I want him to see what I go through. Of course knowing my luck, the boys will be angels all weekend. They'll save it all up for when they get home.
So there is another reason I want to stay home. It's my mom's birthday on Sunday, my nephew T's 2nd birthday tomorrow, and my Nan is arriving from England for her annual summer visit. Three good reasons to go visit with my family this weekend. And due to the holiday, we almost ALWAYS miss my mom's birthday. And I feel awful about that. I want to celebrate with her. She deserves it.
So what, you say, is my problem?
I feel bad. I feel like a horrible mother for not wanting to be with my kids. I feel like I'm letting them down, that I'm giving them some idea that I can't stand them. And I know I'll miss them. Especially when I'm hearing or watching the fireworks here in town on Friday night. But, it's not enough to make me go with them.
I think.
Maybe.
We'll see.

Feeling Like A Bad Mom

Lately I've been having a hard time with L. My patience for his antics has long since worn thin. Let me try to explain a few of the things that he does.
He constantly complains about anything and everything. Even when something hasn't happened yet, but there is a small chance it could, he moans and whines about it.
He doesn't listen. I tell him to do something, and he ignores me. Until I threaten him with taking away something such as his iPod.
He has a hard time getting along with the other kids here at home. He can't seem to make compromises, and when things don't go his way, he throws a fit, or he lashes out physically, or he does things to deliberately annoy them.
He argues with me, his brother, anyone, and he slams doors.
When he has things that don't go his way, or he gets hurt, or he is asked to do some kind of chore, it's a huge drama. It's the "worst day ever" or he wants to "die" or "kill himself" or he "hates this world". I don't know how to take that. DoI take him seriously and get him professional help? Is he depressed? Or is it a ploy for attention? So far I've tried to ignore it, but I don't want to ignore something potentially serious.
Everything is boooooorrrrrrriiinnnggg.
When he gets into trouble, he hits himself in the head and calls himself stupid. I can't seem to make him see that he's not, no matter what, and I want to know where I went wrong with fostering his self-esteem. Who has told him that he is stupid? He feels inadequate next to all the other kids at school.
Things are bad. I want him to be a happy child. But he makes it seem like his life is a total hardship. I don't know how to show him that he has a great life. That he's so lucky to be him.
The worst part of all this is that I don't want to be around him anymore. When he screams out, "I HATE THIS WORLD!!" it takes everything in me not to tell him to leave then. The comments that go through my head when he is being irritating are shocking even to me. And while I realize that I shouldn't be saying (I don't) or even thinking those things as his mother, I can't help it. It isn't until later when I calm down significantly that I feel a little bad.
The other weekend, after saying at least five separate times that the floor was wet (freshly washed) and to stay off, I lost it. He walked onto the floor while having a fit because his brother got a lemonade and he never asked for one, to dump out the drink he did have. Aside from the fact that he was wasting something out of spite, I was very angry that he was on my clean wet floor! I screamed at him so loudly that A) I'm sure the neighbours heard, B) I made my throat hurt and C) I startled him so bad he started to cry. You'd think I would feel bad for that, but I didn't. I was seething, my blood was pounding through my veins, and it was only by a slim margin that I managed to say "Go to your room!" instead of "Get out of my sight, I can't stand looking at you!"
Because that's what I was thinking.
After a 20 minute walk around the neighbourhood and a small stay in my garden, I finally felt calm enough to go back in the house. I was still angry though, but forced myself to go to his room and try to make amends.
I know this may seem an extreme over-reaction to you, but this is an ongoing thing. It's a culmination of one misbehavior after another. I can handle not listening. I can handle whining. I can handle mess-making. I can handle complaining. I can handle (some) fighting. But I can't handle ALL of it, ALL at once, ALL the time.
I feel like a bad mother. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to make him happier. I don't know how to make myself want to be around him. And I'm scared that one day I'm going to say or do something I'll really regret.
I think the main problem now is that there's no reward. You know how you say, "It's all worth it" when they give you a hug, or kiss, or sweet smile, or say they love you out of the blue?
Yeah, there's none of that. He won't hug me unless I steal one or ask, he NEVER gives me a kiss, the only I love you's are when I day them first and that's few and far between. There's not a lot to keep me coming back for more. Right now, to me, he feels like another kid in my daycare who annoys the hell out of me and hasn't got picked up for days! Even my babies give me more love than he does.
So here's my next question. Do I continue to "force" physical affection on him/from him, or do I leave him alone? Am I disrespecting his personal space or wishes by hugging him and kissing him when he clearly doesn't want me to? Or is it my right (because really, I think it is)?
What do I do? School is done in three days, and honestly, I'm worried. I'm worried we'll have a crappy summer and I'll end up mentally ill or something.
Right now he is in bed. I am thinking back on my day, and analyzing it. Today, I really tried to keep my cool. No yelling. I did pretty well. However, I ended up crying instead. I was chopping rhubarb and couldn't stop the tears from falling as I was feeling like a horrible mom for wishing my kids away. Luckily no one noticed, as I couldn't really explain it.
Sigh.
I just can't win.

Back On

I do not like this, not one little bit. After about a six month hiatus, I've gone back on the pill. I stopped taking it during the summer not because we wanted to try for another kid, but because I was getting headaches every day. So I stopped taking the pill to see if that was part of the problem. I don't really think it was, because the headaches didn't magically stop, but I stayed off the pill because I was happier without it.
Weird, I know.
Since being on and off the pill several times after L's birth, I've noticed that there are a few side-effects. None of these are terribly horrible things I can't live with, but they are unwanted. One is that the pill causes me to have MORE acne, which is completely contrary to popular belief. Another is lower libido, which is a normal side-effect. And the last one that I hate hate HATE is my mood swings. You would think that the pill would help that, since you are taking an even dose of hormone, but I think for some reason it just adds to the hormones I already have or something. I am much more even-tempered off the pill, and I don't like feeling this way, so out of control. It's part of the reason why I hate to drink, because I don't like to feel out of control of myself.
I find I lose my temper with the kids very easily. They are the poor ones who suffer, whose mother/babysitter doesn't have the patience to remember their age or developmental level, or the ability to step back and realize they aren't doing this out of vindictiveness or to simply piss me off. It's like I go from zero to blowing up in less than a heartbeat.
I hate myself for that.
Sometimes I recognize that I'm getting that way, and other times I don't. I'm out of practise right now, because although I've surely lost my temper in the past six pill-free months, I haven't gone from one extreme to the next. It's been more like zero, to ten, to 50 then to boiling point. And the slower boil can usually be diffused earlier.
Am I making sense?
Take today for example.
It's a PA day. For those of you that don't understand that term, it means Professional Activity Day. Simply put, kids are home while teachers are doing God Knows What.
So my boys are home along with my regular babies and one other 7 year old boy, R. It has also been a very very cold day. I do believe it's actually the coldest day we've had so far this winter, -25C, without windchill factored in.
Needless to say, they've been cooped up in the house all day on top of all weekend. And they. Are. Crazy.
Now so am I.
After a day long full of pounding feet up and down hallways, laughing, hooting, giggling, screaming and shouting, I lost it.
The babies were supposed to be sleeping, it was supposed to be my down time, and after multiple warnings the boys were still being silly and wild.
So I told them that was it, they were going outside.
As I was downstairs changing one woken baby's diaper, I could still hear thump, thump, thump, thump up and down the hallway above me. It was all I could do to get that baby's pants back on before the Incredible Hulk burst out of me.
I may have run up the stairs.
I may have grabbed the first child I saw (who happened to be L and was the one doing the thumping.)
I may have squeezed the tops of his arms a little too hard, just enough to show I meant business, as I shouted at him.
I may have made him cry.
Bad mommy Hulk.
You see what I mean? I feel like my temper goes out of control, and I do things I regret. But the worst part is is that I can feel the stress and anger flowing through me afterwards, almost like a physical force. It's almost alien. And when I finally calm down, I cry. I'm sorry for losing it, and for being a bad parent.
I don't want you all to think I have some sort of psychological disorder. I'm sure I don't. I do have enough presence of mind to NEVER lay a hand on any child not my own. And to not harm my own children either, even though I will admit to a small slap once or twice in the past. And I say past because it was, and I wouldn't do it again.
But I'm getting off topic. So I hate the mood swings and not feeling myself. But I had to try going back on because my periods were getting too painful, and I'm worried that I have surgery in my future. I was once told by an OB/GYN that the pill should help, although it probably will continue to get worse. So until my hubby is in a better position for me to be taking time off work for things like surgery, I will have to hope that the pill does the job. I'll let you know in a few weeks or months.

Another Dilemma

***WARNING: THIS IS AN EPIC POST! ONLY READ IF YOU HAVE TIME.***

Last week was not a good week. There were a bunch of things that happened, one of them being that we found out that we can't actually take a trip that we were so hoping to take. Regardless, that's not the part of the bad week I was going to write about. Just something that added to it.

I look after a bunch of kids, as you know, and there is one child in particular that has been a bee in my bonnet (or wasp in my pant leg, since this IS the new millenium and as I'm not Amish I do not wear a bonnet!) We'll call him X. X has been with me since he was almost three. He is now 9. Ever since L could move independently, he and X have clashed. X has "had it in for him" for his entire life. Almost like it's been his personal life's goal to make L's life as miserable as he can. He teases him, fights and argues with him, provokes and taunts him, and just generally does everything within that vague circle of allowable limits that he can do to pester him. And there's the odd time that he gets physical with him too.

At first, in the early years, I chalked it up to #1) immaturity on X's part, and #2) jealousy felt on X's part at having to share my other son R. I always thought that he didn't like that R loved L more than him, or something like that. I also always tried to be objective; to hide that mother bear instinct to immediately rage at and throttle anyone who dared to make my child cry. I tried to see L as another kid I cared for, without special treatment and to allow him to find his own way through it. I tried to give him his own chances to stand up to X or to find acceptable coping strategies and conflict resolution. I've never wanted to say, "It's all his fault" (X's), because I fully realize that it takes two to argue or fight.

I had hoped that X would grow out of it eventually. I mean, every kid has to grow up and mature at some point right? I see it in many of R's friends, and R himself. They are growing past the petty fighting and bickering. They are all starting to be able to see beyond themselves and to look at the "big picture". They can put themselves in another's point of view without having to be reminded to do so. They are starting to see when to let things go, and what's worth fighting over and what's not. As a side note, I am LOVING this age! Nine is wonderful! R is (mostly) compliant, helpful and generally a joy to be around. But apparently that doesn't apply to all nine-year-olds.

So here it what happened last week. It was a beautiful afternoon, and I had quite a few children under my care after school. A 15-month-old, a 26-month-old, one 4-yr-old, three 5-year-olds, my own two (6.5 and 9) and X. To say I was a little taxed in my patience is being generous. It started off by L, X and the 4 and a 5 year old making some sort of obstacle course involving the slide, and several pieces of equipment in my backyard. Well, actually it was L who was making it, the others were watching. L was getting frustrated as the 26 mos old kept trying to steal away some of the obstacles, so he was already ramped up. I was being run off my feet, as usual, getting snack, sorting fights, and looking after the youngest. My patience was also rather short due to a severe depletion from having my newest little one visit that morning (she cried and cried if that says anything, poor thing.) When L had finally completed his course, he claimed he would be the first to try. Fair enough. The one who made it should be the one to try first. Laws of the playground. The 4 and 5 year olds (brothers incidentally) agreed and were waiting patiently for their turn. X however, decided that he was going to go first no matter what. It didn't matter that L was screaming at him "NO!" or even that the brothers were also telling him to wait. It didn't matter that L was climbing up the slide (the starting point of the course) effectively blocking X from going down and beginning. It didn't matter that L was extremely upset, in tears even because he knows X so well and knew that he would do his darndest to get what he wanted. I don't even know what the attraction was for him. It wasn't even challenging to a much taller 9-year-old. But the fact that it was of no great feat to "beat" this obstacle course, or that he was playing with children much younger than him instead of seeking out R didn't make a damn bit of difference to X. He was going to go no matter what, and go he did. He hopped around L and completed the course in less than two seconds, cheering as if he'd won a gold medal at the Olympics while L screamed at him and the brothers shouted that he was being annoying and unfair. At that point, they refused to "play" with him, which you'd think would be enough of a lesson (peer pressure can be powerful!) but not for X. He continued to be his obnoxious self and tried to be as intrusive and annoying as possible, hopping through the course as the others were trying to complete it and just genterally getting in the way.

And what did I do during all this, you may ask? Nothing, aside from a few verbal warnings to X to quit it. And herein lies part of my dilemma. I've always felt and run my daycare by being an observer. I have always tried not to jump in and solve the children's problems for them. I think they need to learn how to deal with them on their own. So if there is fighting, but no one is being hurt, I don't usually jump in. Part of that is also that I can't stand the whining and tattling, so I ignore it as best I can. I guess I shut down a little too much.

I'm sure the mothers out there are going, why didn't you stick up for your son, and help him? Put X in time-out or something? And the answer is in a few parts. Part one, see above. Part two, I'm soooooooo tired of it! I'm so sick of the fighting between these two that I just don't want to hear it anymore. I don't want to deal with it, so I don't. I know, it's selfish of me, and mean, and last week I would have said I didn't care anymore but this week I'm seeing a new light and I've learnt my lesson. I'm getting to that part. And part three is that I just don't know how to punish a 9 year old. Time outs are for toddlers; for children that have not yet learned to control their tempers, like my 26-month-old. I rarely have to punish any of the other kids EVER, so I must be doing something right, right? I have no authority to take away cherished possessions or privileges, which is how I punish my own children. The privileges at daycare are limited. They don't have computer time, tv time or video game time in general (occasionally but not often enough for it to make a difference to take it away). So how do I punish him, other than telling his parents and leaving it up to them? Which is fairly ineffective, as I've seen.

But I must get on with this story. That's right, my friends, it's not over yet! The climax is yet to come. And then I will reveal my true dilemma.

At some point, the fighting was forgotten (as it seems to go with boys) and the four were somewhat playing together again. This time it was my ever-hated-least-favourite game of all that they play, sword fighting. Or some sort of weapon. They gather up all the plastic sporting equipment (bats, golf clubs, lacrosse sticks, etc.) and run around the yard using the two play structures as "bases" and the sporting equipment as weapons. This is why I hate looking after boys. They are so violent all the time. I fought against this sort of play for so long. I became tired of the fight. A part of me realized that it's genetically ingrained in boys to play this way, to work through their long buried hunting instincts by playing aggressively. There needed to be some outlets, such as this game, or the real fighting escalates and they start wrestling, which I hate EVEN MORE!

So now, I let them. But at some point during the game, as I was talking to one of the moms of the sweet little girls I look after, L hurled or either his hand slipped off one of his "weapons" and of course landed on X. X immediately began to cry like a baby because of course he should, I mean he's ONLY nine, right? The crying was extremely forced and whiny, which I can't stand so I mostly ignored him. My standard statement is, "If you guys are going to play that game, someone ALWAYS gets hurt, you know that, so I've told you don't cry to me about it! If you don't want to get hurt, don't play that game!!" The mom just chuckled and we continued our conversation. I'm not sure how the fight began, but the next thing I knew, L was attacking X by running at him. X defended himself and then proceeded to attack L. The mom alerted me to this fact and I, like the amazing childcare giver that I am, calmly walked over there, got down to their level and gently told them to stop screamed at them to stop from where I was. Of course my screeching was duly ignored and the fight continued. At this point my brain was weighing the odds. I was soooo tired. Sooo tired that day. I had used up my patience long ago. I couldn't deal with this. I should have. I really should have. But that other part of my brain said, they're boys, sometimes boys need to fight. Stupid, eh? Really stupid. Because my stupid brain didn't remember to clue me in to the fact that maybe boys the SAME SIZE need to fight, but definitely not when one is much larger than the other! What ended up happening, was that at some point when L was trying to retaliate, X put his knee up into L's face. L screamed in pain and came to me, to which I gave the standard reply like the horrible uncaring person I am. Then the mom pointed out that he was, gasp, bleeding!



OMG. I am the worst mother in the world for letting this happen.



I immediately bid her goodbye, grabbed L and the baby and made for inside, telling X to sit his butt down on the deck and not move from that spot until his mother arrived. L's nose had been badly bumped by X's knee and was bleeding. I didn't want to apply pressure, because I was scared it was broken. So I put a kleenex under it, and a bag of frozen corn niblets over it, and made L sit there for 20 mins like that while I obsessed that my child would be damaged for life and it was ALL MY FAULT!



When X's mother finally arrived to pick him and his sister up, L didn't hesitate to let her know just what her son had done. I elaborated, explaining generally how the afternoon had gone and that they had ended up in a physical fight. I downplayed the fact that it was all X's fault, and allowed that some of it was L's fault too. I never want to be one of those parents who thinks that their child can do no wrong. I also never want to make anyone else feel like they're a bad parent either. I can't imagine arriving at daycare or the school to pick up my kid and being told that they alone had caused and instigated a fight, that essentially they were an evil little shit-disturber! Dealing with this sort of thing (telling parents about the bad stuff their kids did) is one of the worst parts of this job, mostly because I put myself in their shoes too much.



X's mother asked me, "Did you punish him?" Ummmmm....not sure how you want me to do that? Any ideas lady? I sat him on the deck, which is where he thankfully stayed, but that's about it.



So now my dilemma. I have debated for years about what to do with this child. My sister N has told me several times to "fire" him. But it's more complicated than that. Firstly, it's difficult for me to say, "I'm sorry, your child has no place in this daycare anymore due to his behaviour." Part of it would be sort of like admitting defeat, telling everyone that I can't handle the children the way I should be able to. Plus I would hate to be on the receiving end of that statement, so I can't do that to someone. Secondly, he has a younger sister who is great to look after, is very good friends with two of the other children, and would surely follow him to whatever new daycare his family found. Thirdly, his family has been with me for 6 years now, so how do I now, after all this time, say that's it? Why didn't I say something sooner? Fourthly, if he goes, I lose income and have to replace that income for not only him, but also his sister. And lastly, since I have known his family for so long, it would be so awkward. His mom is not exactly a friend, per se, but we have had many friendly conversations and "bitch" sessions, as well as I've been over to her house for tea a few times and I've used her out of desperation for my own babysitting needs or tight spots I've got in from time to time with the daycare. (I don't mean financially I just mean not being able to pick up her kids, my kids or whatever).



She emailed me today, telling me she had been thinking about it a lot, and didn't know what to do and did I have any ideas or thoughts?? Of course I do, but how do I express them without hurting her feelings? How do I tell her that she better straighten her son out today, or that's it? Oh, and by the way, leave little x here. We like her just fine. Part of me wonders if she herself has been looking for an out. Maybe she found cheaper daycare, or can find cheaper daycare and is looking to me to tell her to go, saving her the trouble of firing me. Or maybe she doesn't like me anymore. Who knows?



What I do know is this. Part of this is my fault. I should never have stood by and let them "fight it out". I am damn lucky (and so is L) that L's nose wasn't broken. At least I'm pretty sure it wasn't. I will be vigilant from this day forward to immediately jump in and break up any sort of argument or fight between the two of them. And I won't hesitate to let X know he is treading on VERY thin ice.



Your thoughts? Please?

I Don't Like My Kid And I Feel Like a Bad Mom Because Of It

I'm thinking that my friend from Running Out of Hands can sympathize here. I've heard her often comment on how she struggles with her middle child, R*, and her difficulties in liking him very much sometimes.

I often feel the same way about L. Sometimes he is great. Other times, not. He seems to go through these "phases" of being utterly and incredibly annoying to me.

I think our personalities clash. That must be part of the problem. He can be so rude and obnoxiously snarky at times, and it builds over time. I won't notice it so much at first, but it gets worse and worse over time until I'm like, hey, how come I'm letting him talk to me like that?? Then I have to harp at him over and over again for a week or so, punishing him and telling him off until he stops and goes back to being a little more meek and humble. Boy that sounds dictatorial, doesn't it? But I can't have my kid talking to me like I'm his equal, his peer. I'm his mother, for goodness sake!

So then I put this kid to bed at night, and he cries. He tells me he feels like no one likes him, that everybody hates him. And then I feel so guilty. And angry. Both, at the same time. There's the mother (guilt) part of me that is saying, "You made him feel this way! Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You should only ever make him feel nothing but loved!"

And then there's the normal, human (angry) part of me saying,"You're kidding me, right? Kid, you don't KNOW what it feels like to be unloved and hated!! How can you be so ungrateful for all you have? You seriously need a life lesson!"

DH says he and I are too alike. I disagree. I don't know where he gets this from. He says L pushes all the right buttons on me. I won't disagree with that.

So I go to bed that night and tell myself that I promise, I really, really will try very hard to be a better, more patient and understanding mother tomorrow. And I will, but it's so hard sometimes.

Heartaches

I am having a difficult time lately with L. It seems we are ALWAYS fighting. He and I. I really think that our personalities clash, whereas R and I match. I understand R. I DO NOT understand L.
So I am feeling a lot of guilt. You know, the main emotion of motherhood.
I don't like constantly badgering him. But I have always (or at least I hope) been the type of mom to carry through with expectations. I don't like to be lenient with one child, and not the other. If I say to do something, it should be done.
Now, I'm no tyrant. It's not like I'm asking him to scrub the floors, or even clean the toilets. It's small stuff, like, get dressed, time for school, come for dinner, brush your teeth, well, you know the mantra. And the answer is (take your pick here) "In a minute" "I don't want to" "Why do I have to?" "Why isn't R?" and many others. Of course the answer to the last one, why isn't R, is usually that he's already done it, being the golden child that he is.
But it's not just that. It's also the whining, and the complaining. How do you get your kids to be grateful for what they have instead of always, wanting, wanting, wanting more? Here is a small example:
I made pancakes for breakfast the other day. Not a common occurance on a weekday, but I was feeling generous and energetic apparantly. L loves pancakes. I also put frozen blueberries in them, knowing that enjoys eating the frozen ones, and also has previously enjoyed the frozen pancakes (commercially made) with blueberries.
After sitting down, he complained about the blueberries. Then the syrup (we make him use a cheaper version since he uses too much), then something else, although I've blocked it memory fails me here.
Why couldn't he just be happy and excited that I had made him pancakes?
Another:
While out doing some shopping, L expressed that he wanted a Puffle (a stuffed toy). Disregarding the fact that we have only just had Christmas AND his birthday during which he received 4 different stuffies, I told him that maybe he could buy one with his own birthday money. That was ok with him, but he wanted to go NOW! No, we maybe will go on the weekend. And then the whining starts. "Why do I have to wait? I want to go now! So-and-so has one, I NEED one!"
"But L, you just four stuffies less than a month ago!"
"I don't care, I don't want them!" (not true).
Sigh. I guess he's too spoiled. But his brother is treated the same, if not he gets more, and he's not like this.
Now here's the part I'm struggling with the most. Most of the time, he won't let me give him any affection. He shrugs off hugs and kisses. He definitely won't initiate them. When he cries and I ask what's wrong, he won't tell me, or I have to ask a million times and beg. I guess I should stop doing that now that I see it here in writing. Just let him cry. But that's hard to watch. And the kicker is, last night he said he only loves Daddy. And it wasn't during a heated moment either. He was upset, yes, but it wasn't screamed out while I was punishing him or something.
DH says not to take it to heart. And I'm trying. But part of me is going, "You ungrateful little S.O.B! I carried you for nine months, expelled you without drugs from my womb, ripping myself in half during the process, and gave up my freedom, my body, my sleep, my money, even my health for you, and THIS is how you repay me??!!"
But that's what mothers do, right?
It's just really hard to like him lately. I love him, of course, but like? Hmmm, only when he's asleep!