Any-Mom » Seeing Red

Seeing Red

11.17.2008 | Author: OrganizerMom | Posted in Pick Your Battles

The events of last week made me question my decision to become a parent. My son was VERY DIFFICULT last week. Perhaps it was because he was just getting over an ear infection; perhaps it was because he is freaked out that we’ve put our house up for sale; or perhaps he just occasionally needs to be a Royal-Pain-in-the-Ass. Whatever the reason, he would not cooperate in any way with any request. Now, I try to be polite and positive with my son. I try to respect his preferences for a certain cup, a particular shirt, or a specific routine. But there are times when he just needs to SHUT UP and do what I tell him. Last Wednesday morning was one of those times.

Mornings in general are difficult for my son. He likes to eat his breakfast over the course of an hour, nibbling a piece of cereal here, taking a sip of orange juice there, and drawing a picture all the while. Then, perhaps, he’ll get dressed. At five, my son is perfectly capable of dressing himself. Yet, a reminder from me to get dressed results in a litany of whining: “Mommy, you dress me. Mommy, I can’t get dressed. Mommy, I need you. Mommy, I fell down.” This last is accompanied by a dramatic dive to the ground where he rolls around yelling, “Mommy, help me. Mommy, I fell down. Mommy, mommy, I can’t get up.” Even through my annoyance, this reminds me of the 1980’s commercial where the old lady has fallen and can’t get up so I sort of laugh but I’m also irritated. Usually, at this point, in order to head off a full-fledged temper tantrum, I go into his room and get him dressed.

But last Wednesday, perhaps because of a lack of sleep, not enough caffeine, or the accumulation of three month’s worth of attempts to get him out of the house and to school on time, I lost my temper and yelled at him. I rarely yell at my son. I put on my stern voice sometimes, but mostly I speak to him with patience and courtesy. He was so shocked at being yelled at that he ran to his room and hid in his closet. I abandoned any schedule I had hoped to keep and left him in there for about an hour, while I made myself a cup of hot tea with extra honey and checked my emails.

He finally came out of his room and peeked into the office and said in a small cute voice, “Mommy, I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.” I swallowed the rest of my anger and pulled him onto my lap where we had a nice conversation about behavior and cooperation. The rest of the day, he stuck close by me and gave me lots of hugs and kisses. “Mommy, I love it when you love me,” he said. Who could resist that?