Jack just might be the most valuable asset to the United States Department of Defense, but they don't know it. He might just be able to solve the whole Middle Eastern crisis if the US military would just tap into his innate skill as a torture device. Waterboarding? Bah! Who needs waterboarding? We've got Jack Rice! Ten minutes left alone in a room with him whining about milk or Thomas or juice or the sandbox will send anyone, ANYONE to give up even the most important of national secrets.The first thing I hear every morning is his whining. He wakes up grumpy and fussy and crying and goes to bed doing the same thing. He doesn’t know how to ask for anything without whining for it and it is driving me CRAZY. I want to grab a roll of duct tape and wrap it around his mouth and not take it off until he’s five and can ask for things in full sentences.
I totally understand that he is just doing what he knows how to do. I know that I should ignore the whining and tell him to ask for things in a nice voice. And I do. About 47 times a day. And I begin to lose my patience with it at about time 16. It’s getting really old. Really, really old. Lately all I can think about is taking a vacation to a land where toddlers don’t exist.
Most of the time, including right now, I feel pretty lame about how little patience and tolerance I have for the stuff of motherhood. I have to bite my tongue, every morning, when he refuses to get dressed and all I want to do is throw my own little tantrum. I have to force myself to remain level when he stands at my legs begging, up up up, after I’ve just stepped out of the shower. Never mind the fact that he stood at the door of the shower crying for me the entire time I was in the shower. Or that he opened the bathroom door and now my mom, dad, and their guests now know every curve, roll, and dimple on my body.
It feels as though his level of need for me is beyond what I can give. And I am starting to resent him. I know that his whining and needing and clinging and fussing is his way of letting me know that I am not present enough with him but the truth is… I’m not. I don’t want to be. I want to get as far away as possible from that black hole of need and not-enoughness. It is exhausting. It is so draining. And so I sort of stiff arm him, energetically, and he goes insane with fear and abandonment.
It hasn’t helped that he’s been sick for two weeks which just amplifies all of the icky stuff like the whininess, lack of sleep, and generally fussy mood, and leaves very little room for fun. I need to have fun with my son again. I want to enjoy being a mom with him instead of feeling like its all chore, work, and annoyance. I want to share a moment with him where we’re both surprised and delighted and enjoying the company of one another. I don’t expect every day to feel this way and I certainly don’t expect to like everything about being a parent. But I am ready to like him again. And like me around him.
Moms? Dads? Tell me you’ve been here and tell me what you did to get out.
