I cannot believe where we were last week versus where we are today. You no longer throw your food at the dinner table and when you are finished, you give us whatever food is left and usually say, "all done!"
We have not seen a temper tantrum since last Thursday. Not even really a whimper. You are paying more attention to things we say and I can't believe the things you are able to understand. Our babysitter says you are very smart and even though I really believe all children excel, at this point, with one thing or another, I am beginning to think you are smart!
You love getting stickers and seem to be so proud of most things you are able to do, or show us. Like putting your sippy cup away, putting things away when we ask, and you can blow your nose. When did that happen?
You are such a more joyous little boy now, and it has been incredibly fun.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The Awesome Side to Parenting
What a difference a little stern parenting and 24 hours can make.
You did not cry when I picked you up from daycare and you came home with me willingly. You went on a short walk with your dad, and ride nicely in the wagon.
You ate dinner like a champ. You played after dinner like a champ. When you got your stocker for your "good job" at dinner and tried to eat it, you didn't cry when I took it away and said no. I gave you another stocker and you stuck it on your board with a big ole smile!
When you wanted to go outside after dinner and I told you no, you whined. Until I told you no whining and then you stopped.
When we went to Menards to buy a new toilet, I gave you such a stern talking to that the words, "you will sit in the cart, and you will not cry when you cannot push the cart'" actually made you whimper with a pouty lip.
And behold, you were an angel, which warranted another sticker when we got home, which you were more than happy to put on your board!
I guess I just needed to take back that control. We will see how the rest of the week and this weekend will go!
You did not cry when I picked you up from daycare and you came home with me willingly. You went on a short walk with your dad, and ride nicely in the wagon.
You ate dinner like a champ. You played after dinner like a champ. When you got your stocker for your "good job" at dinner and tried to eat it, you didn't cry when I took it away and said no. I gave you another stocker and you stuck it on your board with a big ole smile!
When you wanted to go outside after dinner and I told you no, you whined. Until I told you no whining and then you stopped.
When we went to Menards to buy a new toilet, I gave you such a stern talking to that the words, "you will sit in the cart, and you will not cry when you cannot push the cart'" actually made you whimper with a pouty lip.
And behold, you were an angel, which warranted another sticker when we got home, which you were more than happy to put on your board!
I guess I just needed to take back that control. We will see how the rest of the week and this weekend will go!
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
The Ugly Side to Parenting
Last week, it was like you flipped a little switch and decided the best way to voice your frustrations was through temper tantrums and they have escalated since. Last night you ran through the aisles of Target screaming. Tonight, you were in such a state of hysteria that you actually exhausted yourself in your timeout corner and fell asleep. I took you upstairs, tucked you in, said our prayers and you fell asleep. No bath, no diaper change (you had one an hour before) and no music.
Tonight, my son challenged me to a battle of wills, and I decided for the both of us, and for future benefit, that I was going to win.
It all started when you wanted to go out in the garage to be with your dad. You see, your dad is your bestie, and quite frankly, I am a distant second. A very distant second. So you went out and were playing, and somehow your dad thought it was a good idea that you push your stroller around in the garage. Good thinking at the time, as it was going to keep you busy. But when you push things, you go hard and fast and when you couldn't do that, you immediately got frustrated.
Combine that with the fact that your bedtime was in 45 minutes and the outcome was one of the biggest tantrums I have ever seen.
Most opp laces tell you to ignore tantrums. But our babysitter, who I very much respect, said there's another way to nip it in the bud even faster. What?! Sign me up!
Its called telling your kid to man up and quit being a baby. Week, in over nice, mommy lingo.
So after ignoring him for about 5 minutes, I proceeded to grab him by him arms, look him in the face and say "I know you're frustrated, but the way to behave. Let's go sit in timeout until you can calm down."
That is where the battle of wills ensued. We sat on the bottom platform of our staircase and he writhed and screamed and hicupped and got snot all over the carpet.
And I won. After almost 20 agonizing minutes of saying to him that I knew he was frustrated but this was no way to behave while rubbing his back (in between grabbing him as he made a beeline for the stairs) he calmed down. And promptly fell asleep.
So I took him upstairs, hauling this 30 pound ball of anger in my arms and put him in his crib. I rubbed his head, tucked him in, did our nightly ritual and left.
And then I cried.
This is exhausting. Its hard, it makes me feel like a terrible parent. But its what's best for our family. Yes, my life is all about what James needs. But not what he wants. And he needs to understand that to be frustrated is OK. But to be out of control is not.
So I guess this is the ugly side of parenting. But I will take it, because at the end of this ugliness, there is still my sweet, sweet baby boy.
Tonight, my son challenged me to a battle of wills, and I decided for the both of us, and for future benefit, that I was going to win.
It all started when you wanted to go out in the garage to be with your dad. You see, your dad is your bestie, and quite frankly, I am a distant second. A very distant second. So you went out and were playing, and somehow your dad thought it was a good idea that you push your stroller around in the garage. Good thinking at the time, as it was going to keep you busy. But when you push things, you go hard and fast and when you couldn't do that, you immediately got frustrated.
Combine that with the fact that your bedtime was in 45 minutes and the outcome was one of the biggest tantrums I have ever seen.
Most opp laces tell you to ignore tantrums. But our babysitter, who I very much respect, said there's another way to nip it in the bud even faster. What?! Sign me up!
Its called telling your kid to man up and quit being a baby. Week, in over nice, mommy lingo.
So after ignoring him for about 5 minutes, I proceeded to grab him by him arms, look him in the face and say "I know you're frustrated, but the way to behave. Let's go sit in timeout until you can calm down."
That is where the battle of wills ensued. We sat on the bottom platform of our staircase and he writhed and screamed and hicupped and got snot all over the carpet.
And I won. After almost 20 agonizing minutes of saying to him that I knew he was frustrated but this was no way to behave while rubbing his back (in between grabbing him as he made a beeline for the stairs) he calmed down. And promptly fell asleep.
So I took him upstairs, hauling this 30 pound ball of anger in my arms and put him in his crib. I rubbed his head, tucked him in, did our nightly ritual and left.
And then I cried.
This is exhausting. Its hard, it makes me feel like a terrible parent. But its what's best for our family. Yes, my life is all about what James needs. But not what he wants. And he needs to understand that to be frustrated is OK. But to be out of control is not.
So I guess this is the ugly side of parenting. But I will take it, because at the end of this ugliness, there is still my sweet, sweet baby boy.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
17 months!
Right now, you are in the basement throwing a colossal fit. You have been for the past 5 minutes. I figure that you'll probably be down there for another 5 minutes or so, so I've got time for your 17 month stats.
You are the king of colossal temper tantrums. I'm not sure exactly when, or how, that happened, as I pride myself (and Eric) in being one-time parents. You throw your food on the floor, it's a time-out. You don't want to do something we need to do (because, let's face it, it's not about what we want to do anymore), we won't put up with it. Maybe this is the terrible two's that we have heard so much about?
(I just checked on you, you're lying at the foot of the stairs, on your back, arms and legs spread, crying. You're fine.)
You had a double ear infection earlier this week, which was hell on your dad and I. I finally took you to the doctor on Wednesday and you weighed 29 pounds and were 32" tall! Long and lean, holy smokes.
Everything with four legs is a "dog" and whenever we announce it's "BATH TIME!" you happily run after us, up the stairs, saying "bath! bath! bath!" Although it sounds more like "bat! bat! bat!" If there's one thing you absolutely love, it's baths.
(Just checked again, you're standing at the foot of the stairs, head on the second tread, still crying. I tried to coax you upstairs, but you ran away and out of sight. Not sure why I'm the bad guy here...)
You are starting to get very picky about your food. You don't like eating things two nights in a row, and it seems as though your palate is getting smaller. But good lord you LOVE french fries. It must have been all the salty foods I ingested when I was pregnant with you.
(You've made your way up the stairs, but you're still crying. You're relentless.)
Outside is the place to be, which terrifies me to think what will happen when the cold weather hits and you can no longer play outside. You love pushing your wagon, rather than riding in it, and you're very particular about where it needs to go. You are very good at sticking to the sidewalks, which I think I can attribute to daycare (thanks Christy)! But you aren't so good at riding in the wagon. It's an anomaly, but I just go with it.
(You have finally made it to me, stopped crying, and want to type on the keyboard. So, because I love you, I'm going to let you. The last time you touched daddy's computer, you turned the screen 90 degrees adn we had a heck of a time getting it back, but hopefully this time, it won't be so bad... below will be your scribblings.)
You are growing so quickly - out of the 12 month, into the 18 month, and for some of the clothes, out of the 18 month and into the 2T. I bought you a little Columbia fleece, size 2T and it fits you perfect! Which worries me because I want it to fit you next spring! But your dad already ripped the tags off and it's got a nice sprinkling of applesauce (as does the interior of my car) on it, so I guess taking it back is out of the question.
You're starting to really understand the world around you and how things work. Like when I leave you in the basement to throw your temper tantrum, I really am not going to come and get you. You have to make your way upstairs because I am not going to raise a whiner or a fit-thrower. I have seen too many people too many times put up with it, and I will not.
So with your whining, that is happening right now, I'm going to put you to bed, as I think you're tired, run-down from the cold you've developed and getting rid of your ear infection, and quite frankly, I'm exhausted as well. I love you little man, and thank you for making me realize I have a wealth of patience!
My Temper Tantrum, by James Thomas Engels.
cccccccccccccccxc
gbbvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv b bb bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb.b.vf;/
You are the king of colossal temper tantrums. I'm not sure exactly when, or how, that happened, as I pride myself (and Eric) in being one-time parents. You throw your food on the floor, it's a time-out. You don't want to do something we need to do (because, let's face it, it's not about what we want to do anymore), we won't put up with it. Maybe this is the terrible two's that we have heard so much about?
(I just checked on you, you're lying at the foot of the stairs, on your back, arms and legs spread, crying. You're fine.)
You had a double ear infection earlier this week, which was hell on your dad and I. I finally took you to the doctor on Wednesday and you weighed 29 pounds and were 32" tall! Long and lean, holy smokes.
Everything with four legs is a "dog" and whenever we announce it's "BATH TIME!" you happily run after us, up the stairs, saying "bath! bath! bath!" Although it sounds more like "bat! bat! bat!" If there's one thing you absolutely love, it's baths.
(Just checked again, you're standing at the foot of the stairs, head on the second tread, still crying. I tried to coax you upstairs, but you ran away and out of sight. Not sure why I'm the bad guy here...)
You are starting to get very picky about your food. You don't like eating things two nights in a row, and it seems as though your palate is getting smaller. But good lord you LOVE french fries. It must have been all the salty foods I ingested when I was pregnant with you.
(You've made your way up the stairs, but you're still crying. You're relentless.)
Outside is the place to be, which terrifies me to think what will happen when the cold weather hits and you can no longer play outside. You love pushing your wagon, rather than riding in it, and you're very particular about where it needs to go. You are very good at sticking to the sidewalks, which I think I can attribute to daycare (thanks Christy)! But you aren't so good at riding in the wagon. It's an anomaly, but I just go with it.
(You have finally made it to me, stopped crying, and want to type on the keyboard. So, because I love you, I'm going to let you. The last time you touched daddy's computer, you turned the screen 90 degrees adn we had a heck of a time getting it back, but hopefully this time, it won't be so bad... below will be your scribblings.)
You are growing so quickly - out of the 12 month, into the 18 month, and for some of the clothes, out of the 18 month and into the 2T. I bought you a little Columbia fleece, size 2T and it fits you perfect! Which worries me because I want it to fit you next spring! But your dad already ripped the tags off and it's got a nice sprinkling of applesauce (as does the interior of my car) on it, so I guess taking it back is out of the question.
You're starting to really understand the world around you and how things work. Like when I leave you in the basement to throw your temper tantrum, I really am not going to come and get you. You have to make your way upstairs because I am not going to raise a whiner or a fit-thrower. I have seen too many people too many times put up with it, and I will not.
So with your whining, that is happening right now, I'm going to put you to bed, as I think you're tired, run-down from the cold you've developed and getting rid of your ear infection, and quite frankly, I'm exhausted as well. I love you little man, and thank you for making me realize I have a wealth of patience!
My Temper Tantrum, by James Thomas Engels.
cccccccccccccccxc
gbbvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv b bb bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb.b.vf;/
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