Monday, March 7, 2011

Fall out boy

There is a reason I don't very often break the routine of my days.  Today was a good reminder of why.

Yesterday was my nephew's 6th birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.  The party was scheduled for 1:30 which is G's naptime, but I knew that he would hate to miss the party.  And I also knew that N probably would not be able to keep her mouth shut that she had been to the party.  So I took him with the intention of coming home around 3:00 to get him down for a short nap before we headed to Mamaw's for our regular Sunday evening meal.

Hell was paved a little bit yesterday with these intentions since when I checked my watch it was 3:05, and they were getting ready to do cake.  I couldn't pull G away at cake, so by the time we left it was nearing 4:00.  He hadn't thrown a fit upon leaving and didn't seem to be in too bad of a condition, so I decided to skip the nap and go on to Mamaw's.  And the whole night he was really well behaved.

Which should have been my clue that there would be all kinds of hell to pay today.

He was fine throughout the morning, did great at his speech session, but I decided to swing by Target to get pull-ups (we are off the potty-training bandwagon because G holds his pee, refuses to go in the potty, and will only do his business in a pull-up anyway).  

G knows the routine at the store is "Get Mommy's stuff first, and then we look at toys," and he is usually a-ok with this, especially when I let him look through the Dollar Spot before checking out.  It feels like he's getting visits to two toy sections instead of just one.

But today when I told him, after a few warnings, that it was time to go to the Dollar Spot and then checkout, he started screaming, throwing a tantrum that was like 5 times the size and scale of his normal tantrum.  It started in the toy section and continued throughout the store until we got to checkout (I skipped the Dollar Spot).  I couldn't even hear what the cashier was saying because G was screaming so loudly.  I think she may have asked me, "How are you today?" to which I replied, "How do ya think?"  (This chick clearly doesn't have kids.)  I had put G in the basket but he kept standing up, trying to hit me as I was paying, screaming that blood-curdling, make the dead roll in their graves scream.

And the screaming continued out the door, into the parking lot, in the car, all the way home.  Unfortunately, when G screams, M usually starts too, so for awhile I had both of them at it in the confined space of the car, and it was at this point that I shoved pieces of kleenex in my ears.  At one point, when G took a breather from screaming but M continued, G yelled at me, "Mommy, MAKE M STOP SCREAMING!  It's hurting my ears!"

Which would have been funny if I wasn't so completely undone emotionally and frackin' exhausted from having to contend with him during this entire episode.

Days like this are the reason I do not exercise on a regular basis.  Who the fuck has energy after this kind of shit?

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