I came home last night after running errands for a few hours. Jp came running to the door. “Mamma! Mamma! Mamma! Hug!”. Who is this child? When did he learn the word hug? While I love that child with the fire of a thousand sons, evenings in our home are hit or miss. Jp only has two speeds. The ‘I missed my nap and now I am tired and cranky’ which usually entails refusal to eat dinner, take a bath, crying over any and every transgression he can possibly conceive (as well as some that do not make even one bit of sense), and ending in crying at bedtime. The pinnacle of these evenings is that these bedtime fits do not last long as he has worn himself out from crying over the offending peas on his dinner plate, that I wouldn’t let him take lovey into the bath tub, and he couldn’t go in the backyard with the puppies after dark. Oy vey.
The other speed looks a little something like the Tasmanian devil on 4 shots of espresso. That’s a night after a seemingly reasonably timed nap that could have happened at any point in the day (I have tried adjusting the nap times on many occasions to minimize the evening insanity to no avail). Then it’s all laughter and smiles but his gorgeous brown eyes just gleam with pure, unadulterated MISCHIEF. He’s running around, attacking the dogs, throwing toys off the balcony, making me chase him around the entire house as I try to catch him-literally catch him-to take a bath. Then it’s still bedtime tears (just no way to avoid them in this house apparently) but he will eventually lay down after a few trials and he realizes you aren’t going to give in. You can hear him moving around for a while, it takes some time to burn off that kind of energy, but he usually tucks himself into bed and goes to sleep.
Last night, I was greeted with sweet hugs. It was neither the chaos or the tears and apprehensiveness that I was used to. I was confused. Did someone come and replace my baby with a doppelganger? The remainder of my evening looked like something out of movie. It was incredible. Jp was playing with toys, using his words, and just generally being adorable. He was sweet with the dogs, ate his dinner like a champ, and then played in the bath with Daddy while I cleaned up his room and readied his pajamas.
Then came time for bed.
Oh lord. After the night of sweet bliss I should have known that it was just to good to be true. Dad gave him a kiss and mom was up. I laid him down. Blood. Curdling. Screaming. I kept putting him back. He just got louder. I laid down with him and tried to rub his back. More. Screaming. Uncontrollably. I tried to rock him. Tears. Started to read him a book.
Balls-to-the-wall tantrum of which the likes I have never seen. And that is saying a lot.
Finally Chris came upstairs. Thank goodness. Mamma was out of tricks. I am kind of the “good cop” with a serious edge. I discipline, please don’t get me wrong, but I am cursed with having a rather high pitched voice and Jp just knows that he can get away with more with me. I hardly ever get mad but I am the one that will walk away from the tantrum before I address it. Chris meets them head on and Jp listens and respects him for it. He’s bad cop and I absolutely adore him for it. Sometimes I have to rely on him when the tantrums get out of my control. Dad drops it baritone and Jp immediately knows he means business.
Fifteen minutes later the noise has subsided and Chris came down and gave me “the look”. The ‘this is all of your fault because you let him get away with murder’ look. I couldn’t say much, I do, I let him run all over me sometimes. I just become frozen because I don’t know how much he understands and worry he doesn’t know that what I am doing is for his betterment.
But after last night that is going to change. So help me, I am not going to be the mom that has to call for ‘back up’ every time. That’s not only no good but it is making me look bad while I am wearing my Super Mom cape!
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.