Playin’ The Edge

I stayed overnight at a friend’s cottage with the girls this weekend.  We were out in the woods that shone yellow, orange and red in the fall sun.  I got home on Sunday to a 3 year old who is generally a sweet kid but sometimes gets into a mood.  It’s a pretty obstinate mood. Or maybe “persistent” or “strong-like-ox” are more generous ways to put it.

So I took him grocery shopping.  He was clear that he was not sitting in the cart.  Being in relaxed cottage-mode I went along with it. But within the first 10 minutes I could tell that was a mistake.  He was being obstinate, sorry *persistent* about everything.  And our grocery list was going to mean at least a lap around the biggie-sized big box store to get everything. 

I put him in the cart and he freaked.  He has a strong bit of personality that doesn’t react well with saying what he wants and then not getting it.  And the reaction isn’t “poor me” it’s Moral Freakin’ Outrage.  And it’s not something that a cookie will distract him from.  It goes on. 

On my good days I tell myself that it’s this characteristic that will take him to Africa when he grows up to make life better for babies.  There’s got to be some purpose to this part of his him -  it’s strong.  It’ll mow you down. 

Everyone was looking at me in the store and I realized it was time to hightail it out of there.  He wouldn’t walk.  He kicked off his shoes.  He threw stuff. He wouldn’t calm down. So I carried my 35 pounds of hollering, crying child out of the store.  I was so angry I was shaking.  Thought on the way to the car: spanking is under-rated.  Thankfully I chilled out just a little and he only got a time out.  And after his Time Out I was at a loss for words - is it a worthwhile lesson to say “don’t be such a jerk next time”?

The rest of the afternoon I tried to process what had happened.  I was pissed off at myself for being off my game.  I had been completely out-maneuvered by a toddler.  What does this mean down the road when I can’t carry him?  What does this mean the next time we need groceries?   Maybe it’s time to start a crash diet.  Maybe I’m not cut out for motherhood.

Then we had a bath together.  And as I was drying him off he starting singing a little song he learned:     

And my eyes misted.  I felt all the anger and frustration and self-doubt ooze out of me as I listened to his sweet little voice getting most of the words right.  I was limp with love. My heart felt like pizza dough being stretched and pulled to fit a too-big pizza pan.  And I thought, it just doesn’t matter.  It’s enough that I love him to bits.  I can only keep doing the best I can.