There is something innately endearing about a child putting his or her shoes on the wrong feet.

Nathan is completely enamored with his fireman boots. They were a Christmas gift from my mom, and let me tell you, Nathan can’t get enough of them. The first thing he does in the morning, before he’s even out of his PJ’s, is put on his boots. He clomps around in them all day, just as proud as he can be. Never mind that half the time they’re on the wrong feet. That stuff just doesn’t matter when you’re two years old.

I love this age. Well. I LOVE the age, but dislike the phase he’s going through right now… we’re going for yet another round of NOT MINDING! It’s driving me completely bonkers. For example, we got into a bit of a power struggle today. There’s a local mommy group in my area that meets once or twice a month for lunch and play with our kids. There was one today, and before I even left the house, I had inhibitions about attending. Nathan was in one of his moods, and I could just feel that things probably wouldn’t go smoothly.

I made his lunch (which is pretty much mandatory whenever I take Nathan somewhere. He’s incredibly picky, and coupling that with an intense desire to run amuk with the other kids makes Nathan want to completely forgo his dinners.) So it’s just easier to bring his own lunch, and we rarely get into power struggles over it.

Not today, however.

I told him after he ate his lunch, he could get down and go play with the other kids. Well, Nathan would have none of my rules, dontcha know. He balked. Loudly. He wanted to completely skip his lunch and go play, but unfortunately Nathan without food is a very-hard-to-manage Nathan. So I tried to compromise and advised him to eat just half of what I packed. No success. I tried to bribe him with a cookie. Nope, still didn’t work. Applesauce? He took a few bites and then had enough. Then he tried to pick up his plate and move it away. Finally, I told him to open his mouth and I would feed it to him. COMPLIANCE! Never mind that my child is nearly three years old now and I had to hand-feed him his lunch. All I was worried about was getting food into that grumpy little belly while simultaneously sticking to my rule of eating before play.

But then he went kinda nutzo. He had no sugar (the cookies “mysteriously” disappeared into my own mouth), so I’m not sure where all the crazy energy came from. But he started running around the room, yelling and bouncing around while his wavy hair flapped crazily around his head. I watched in horror as he forcefully yanked toys away from other kids, stole their stickers and decorated his own torso with the loot, and danced around like a jumping bean that had been soaking in adrenaline for a number of days. I tried to reprimand him. When I saw him jerk toys away from other kids, I immediately went to him and gave the toy back to the other child, explaining to Nathan that he needs to share and be nice to others. I took the stickers off his torso and handed them back to the kids he stole them from.

But the ultimate embarrassment was when Nathan physically shoved another little guy down, causing him to cry. One of the volunteers approached me and told me what Nathan did, and I immediately whisked him away into a corner for timeout after I making him apologize to the other boy. I told the mother I was terribly sorry, but she was a bit of a bitch about it. Yeah, I know my child hurt her child, but guess what? It happens. That does NOT mean it’s ok, but it IS to be expected with two and three year olds. But she was absolutely bitchy about it. As I was apologizing for my son’s actions, she didn’t even acknowledge me. In fact, she turned away from me and ignored me as she held her crying son. I totally get that she was upset, but there was no need for her to be rude about it. So I just shook my head and left her alone.

That’s ok. Her child will shove another kid one day when he’s around Nathan’s age. Hopefully the parent of the child he hurts will be nicer to her than she was to me. After being shunned like that, though, I won’t be apologizing to her again if my child ever behaves inappropriately towards her child again. Nathan will apologize to the child he hurt, but I won’t go out of my way just for her to reciprocate with rudeness.

Yes, I’m a little pissed off at her arrogance.

But enough of that. Arrogant, bitchy people are everywhere in this world. I am quite sure I will encounter many, many more throughout my life.

So yeah, Nathan has his super sweet, precious and endearing moments… but this belligerent phase he’s going through right now is driving me insane. I’m hoping this phase doesn’t last long. I want him to be sweet again. Don’t get me wrong, he totally has a multitude of sweet moments. I’ve noticed he gets really wound up when we’re out in public, especially if there’s a lot of other kids around or bustling activities. I’m going to have to figure out a way to work on this…

In the meantime, I’m going to soak up every single sweet moment he has. I know his not-so-sweet moments are just a phase that he will outgrow with love and patience. I’ve had SO many people tell me the Terrible Two’s are nothing compared to the Terrifying Three’s. He’s almost three. I hope this behavior is not a taste of what I’m in for in the coming year!

Nathan’s mood varies in the mornings. Most times he wakes up all jolly and full of rainbows and lolly pops. Other times, he wakes up grumpy and irritable. Full of “piss and vinegar” as the saying goes. He’s hard to deal with on those days, and it usually takes quite a bit of playing and bribing with books to get him into a better mood. In the picture above, he’d had a great morning. (Fortunately he has those more often than not.) Look at his morning hair! I was sitting on the ground when I took it, so the picture looks like he’s a giant in a tiny little room.

And see the mess behind him? Well, every night before he goes to bed, we clean up his room. And the first thing he does in the morning is drag his toys back out to play. I’ve really been working with him on cleaning up after himself. He and I always clean his room before he goes down for his nap. I set out some baskets, and we sort the toys. Legos here, cars there, blocks in that one, books in this one. Most of the time, he gets distracted and wants to play with the toys we are cleaning up, but I tell him we clean up first and THEN he can play with his toys again. This seems to work well. Just yesterday, he brought a basket filled with over 50 Hot Wheels and dumped most of them onto the coffee table. He played with them for a while, and when he was done –get this– he put them all back into the basket and carried it to his room!

Good work, son.

I know I say this a lot, but I have to say it again. I can’t believe how quickly he’s growing up.

Little guy waiting while Daddy went into the store. I was thankful that he didn’t get as upset as he normally does. This sweet boy really loves his father and can’t stand to be away from him. We are so lucky to have such a sensitive, caring little boy!

Me: “Nathan, you’re not minding me. Do you want time out?”

Nathan: “Yes!”

Me: “You do? You want time out?”

Nathan: “YES!”

Me: “Fine. Go to time out.”

Nathan: “Yes, Mommy! I sorry! Yes, yes timeout!” (while throwing a temper tantrum and flopping around like a fish-out-of-water on the floor)

Me: “You don’t REALLY want time out, do you? Don’t say yes unless you REALLY want time out.”

Nathan: “Yes.”

Me: “…”

The above conversation is something I deal with every day, multiple times a day. It can really be enough to drive someone crazy, especially when temper tantrums are thrown into the mix. He knows darn good and well what the word “yes” means, so I don’t know why he is using it the wrong way. Unless he’s trying to test me. That is TOTALLY Nathan. He is my little tester… constantly testing his boundaries to see exactly how much he can get away with. Unfortunately, he does not realize that Mommy is not amused (and is, in fact, the OPPOSITE of amused) at his antics.

Today there is some improvement, thankfully. His fever is finally gone, but he’s definitely still sick and VERY irritable.  But he is eating a little more and is finally drinking fluid on his own. (Before this, he was refusing to drink anything, and I was having to administer Pedialyte in a medicine dropper to him to prevent dehydration.)

I’m hoping that he will be better in a couple of days. In the meantime, bear with me because it’s been incredibly hard to post anything with him being so sick.

Well, I actually MADE time and am now working on an upgrade for my blog. New look and stuff. I think y’all will like it.

Not sure when I’ll actually get around to FINISHING it and getting it all up and running. A pause button would be nice. You know, that way I can just pause life… not miss a moment of my son’s time but still be able to get everything done that needs to be done. (I’m not the only parent with this having-very-little-if-any-free-time dilemma, am I?) Plus, a pause button would be nice during Nathan’s super cute days. The days when he’s all “I love you, Mommy!” and cuddly and stuff. Except for his impish days… I’m not particularly fond of them!

Speaking of impish, my poor child is mildly sick today. Thankfully, it’s mild though. It seems like every time I get him around other kids, HE GETS SICK. Church, playgrounds, play dates… it’s enough to drive a parent insane. You know, when we went up to Michigan a couple weeks ago, I was very careful to clean the tables, booster seats, etc with my handy Lysol wipes. I kept his hands sanitized and was ever vigilant about those pesky germs. And even with all that travelling, he did not get sick.

EVEN AFTER LICKING THE BOTTOM OF HIS SHOE.

That’s right. On the way home to Tennessee, I turned around and my child had his tongue firmly planted on the bottom of his shoe. The very same shoes he wore into BATHROOMS and walked on HOTEL FLOORS with. When I saw he was licking the bottom of his shoe, I shooed him away from it and said shoes were yucky and not meant to be licked.

He left a tongue-print on the bottom of his shoe that took forever to dry. Not that I care about saliva drying time, but the point is that he was totally NOM NOMing all over his shoe, to the point that I am convinced he salivated more than normal. Hence, the long-lasting tongue print.

So anyway, even after all that, my child did not get sick.

HE DIDN’T GET SICK FROM FLOOR GERMS. Nasty, yucky, bottom-of-shoe germs.

But I take him to church on Sunday, and he’s around other kids and WHAM. Kids are so gross sometimes and I truly wish their parents would keep an actively sick child away from other children. (I totally get that sometimes one can be contagious before showing any symptoms of being sick. That can’t be helped. But what CAN be helped is KEEPING your OBVIOUSLY sick child HOME!)

I volunteered to work in the church nursery occasionally. I haven’t started yet… and I’m worried how I will react when parents drop of a child who is hacking all over the place, spreading their sick sneezing mucus throughout the room. I guess I will just have to cross that bridge when I get there… and pray God gives me the grace to handle the situation proactively yet with discretion!

“Naaaaaaaaaaasty!” said Nathan as I coughed loudly.

“Why’s that nasty?” I sputtered in between coughs.

“It yuck yuck!” he responded.

Needless to say, he did not eat his dinner that night. In fact, his refusal to eat was accompanied by indignant howls and back arching.  It took an hour just to get him to eat half of it. NO KIDDING. I guess that I won’t be making him that meal again any time soon. That, and I will try not to choke in front of him anymore. He’s never been particularly fond of those toddler meals, and I guess in his mind, me choking on it meant I didn’t like it either!

I mean, really, really stubborn. And strong-willed. Determined. Steadfast.

Just a few days ago, I heard one of my cats meow in exasperation. I slinked through the kitchen and caught Nathan in the living room, throwing tufts of cat fur into the air and DANCING IN IT while clapping his hands. I saw my cat Andrew hunkered wide-eyed in the corner. He looked as if he thought he was naked.

I bet he felt naked with all the fur Nathan had pulled out and was DANCING in.

“NO! Nathan, that’s not nice! You don’t hurt the cats… Time Out!” I said as I grabbed his cat-fur covered hands. I steered him into his Time Out Corner and set the timer for three minutes (the amount of time Nathan gets in time out depends on his infraction. Milder infractions get him two minutes). When three minutes was up, I returned to Nathan and squatted down on his level.

“Do you understand why Mommy put you in time out?” I asked.

He looked at his hands.

“You pulled out the cat’s fur. You hurt the cat. No touching the cats, Nathan.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied as he did the sign for sorry across his chest.

“Nathan, I need you to say ‘No cat,’” I said.

Nathan mumbled something unintelligible.

“If you want out of time out, you need to say ‘No cat,’” I prodded. Nathan crossed his arms over his chest.

“NO!” he yelled.

“Okay then, you made the choice to have more time out,” I replied. I set the timer for another minute. When the timer went off, I repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again…

In fact, I repeated the process a grand total of THIRTY SEVEN times. That means that THIRTY SEVEN times in a row, I asked Nathan if he was ready to say “No cat.” And THIRTY SEVEN times in a row, Nathan obstinately refused. Until finally, a grand total of FORTY minutes later (including the three minutes for his first time out) and with tears streaming down his cheeks and snot dripping out his nose, he begrudgingly gave me what I asked for.

“No cat,” he whispered. That’s right. He wouldn’t even speak it. HE WHISPERED IT.

With his arms crossed over his chest and his chin up in the air.

But at least he said it, right? My kid may be stubborn, but his mama is even MORE stubborn. Getting tired of the discipline and giving in is not an option for me… giving in means that Nathan would know that all he needs to do to get his way is put up a fight and eventually I’ll cave. And then? Then I’m left dealing with an A-1 Brat. Not gonna happen in this house. It is my responsibility to prepare this child for life, and letting him have his way teaches him nothing.

Even if it takes THIRTY SEVEN repetitions.

Hey, no one ever said parenthood was easy.

So Friday night, my cat Andrew (who has been having issues with pooping outside the litter box) decided to take a dump in the kitchen. So I come trotting through the kitchen and guess what I did?

I STEPPED RIGHT IN IT.

With my bare feet.

And it squished up through MY TOES.

I didn’t even feel it until I had taken a couple of steps, leaving poop-footprints in my wake. And he must have JUST done it because the smell didn’t hit me yet. In fact, when I looked down and saw poop in between my toes, I thought to myself, there’s no way. There is no way I just stepped in a pile of crap. It was the most disgusting thing ever, let me tell you.

So fast forward to yesterday morning. Andrew (I assume) had left me two poop piles near the litter boxes, one of those had been anointed with a drizzle of pee. So cleaning all that up put me in an irritable mood, as I’m sure you would be to if you had been dealing with this for some time. I was now running a little late for church. So then, after I got it all cleaned up and put in a plastic bag, I walked to the door to put it outside when Andrew starts meowing at me, wanting me to love on him.

I was like, how dare you meow to be petted after pooping outside your litter box! 

So I swatted at him with the poop bag.

But instead of swatting the cat, I managed to swat the wall. And it hit the wall JUST RIGHT. Because the angle where it made contact with the wall was perfect; the bag of poop freaking EXPLODED. It got all over the wall, all over the blinds, all over the curtains, the recliner, the window sill, the floor, and all over ME. Hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny poop particles flew EVERWHERE. So then I start crying. I was mad at Andrew, but mostly, I was mad at myself for letting myself get so irritated.

Then Paul comes out of the bathroom as is all like, Ewww what is that smell?

And then he sees the poop explosion. And you know what he does? He takes his church clothes off and tells me to go on to church- he’ll clean up the mess. What a wonderful guy! So I cleaned up, changed my clothes, and went on to church. But I felt horrible the entire time… since I was running so late, I left Nathan at home with Paul because I didn’t have time to get him ready. So because of me, they both had to miss out on church.

LESSON LEARNED, Lord. Lesson learned.

I DIED A LITTLE INSIDE.

Because it completely breaks my heart to discipline my son and see those tears splashing down his cheeks. But you know what? It’s not about me. It’s about what’s best for Nathan. And it is absolutely NOT in his best interest for me to be self-centered, refusing to discipline him because disciplining him makes me feel bad, while it harms him in the long run by turning him into an entitled, self-absorbed, spoiled, bratty adult.

There are way too may of those in the world today, you guys feel me?

Children are a blank piece of paper. We, as the parents, write on that paper who our children are going to become as adults. I want Nathan to understand that there are consequences for everything that he does. Some of those consequences are good. Others are bad. And as much as it breaks my heart to discipline him and see those glistening tears cascading down his little cheeks, I know that it has to be done.

But you know what? He is one happy kid. Seriously. He knows he’s loved, because we set limits with him. He needs that security, and he is thriving. And, if I do say so myself, although he has his typical toddler fits, I have a wonderful, precious, sweet, kind, and loving child who I love more than life itself.