I used to think that when people talked about their kids as being "very independent" or "strong willed", I thought that was another way of saying "spoiled brat". Obviously the parents just didn't have enough discipline in the house, children don't just come that way, any child can be behaved with enough discipline at home. I vowed that my child would never be the one that parents roll their eyes over at church or know their name purely because they know they'll need to use it sometime when they see the said child misbehaving.
And then Linus entered our lives.
He was a happy child when he entered this world. Still is, but now it's more of "happy child" in the way Buzz Lightyear innocently meant when referring to the devil child Sid next door. When Chloe was two, she certainly had her moments, but I remember thinking as she got older how excited and relieved I was that now she was old enough to do more things on her own and I didn't have to follow her around the house so much and could let her play without wondering what she was getting into. Linus is rarely out of my sight anymore. Anything paper must be ripped, I have lost count of how many of our books he has ripped (this weeks misfortune was the whale's tail in "The Grouchy Ladybug"), he can't climb on much, so he just destroys everything at arm's length, his favorite activity with Odell now is finding her eyes and getting his fingers in them before I get to him first or lying down on her to give her a "hug". And his fits. Oh his fits. From morning until night he is just mad about everything. He wants to do everything himself, we try to reason that he is not old enough to do everything himself, so he screams until we let him attempt whatever it is we are denying him, he screams when he can't do it, we offer help, he accepts, and then screams when we begin to help him because he wants to do it himself and the cycle repeats itself about 3 or 4 times until he ends up in time out because we can't get him to calm down. Everything we tell him not to do is a game. Getting his attention is impossible. Explaining anything is impossible. And everything he has to say is at level 10 in volume, and there's no volume control or mute button all day long. He hits Chloe the minute he's left alone with her for anything. He deliberately throws things at us, especially when we are holding Odell. Getting him in or out of his carseat is sometimes a 10-15 minute ordeal.
M: Okay Linus, let's get in the car- no, in the garage, over here- no, don't play with the garage door button please, no, don't play with Daddy's tools, please get out of the wagon, don't play with the lawn mower, Linus- stop playing with the tricycle, put it down please- okay fine, I'm going to put you in the carseat myself.
*starts to pick him up to be met with screaming, punching, kicking, and refusal to get in the car*
L: I DO IT MYSELF, NOOOOOO I DO IT MYSELF!!!!!!
M: *frazzled* Okay, do you want to do it yourself?!
L: *calming down* Yes
M: Then you need to stop touching everything and get in your seat please.
L: Okay, Mom, I sorry.*starts to climb in car*
M: There now, thank yo- noooo, in your seat Linus. Linus, don't play with the buttons please- no, don't touch the lights- hey, you may NOT climb in the front seat, bud- *grabs by the back of his pants to pull him out of the front seat to be met with screaming, punching, kicking, and refusal to get in his seat again* ALRIGHT, enough, I'm just going to put you in your seat myself.
L: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I! DO! IT!
MYSELF!!!!*neighbors are starting to look our direction as I'm manually shoving him into his carseat*
M: *struggling to buckle him in as he continues to scream, punch, kick, and arch his back to the point where I can't snap the buckle where it needs to go* *....still struggling, using superhuman motherly strength to hold my temper as he grabs my hair and yanks it, scratches my face, and screams at the top of his lungs* *get him buckled in with releif, shut the door, and breath a minute before I get in the front seat, straighten my hair, wave and flash a friendly smile at the gawking neighbors, put the car in reverse and get the heck out of dodge...*
I won't exaggerate and say this happens every minute of every day, but I'd say at least 80% of the time he is like this. 100% of the time his volume is at 10 and I can honestly say that's the truth. People at church can definitely attest to this. I can hear him through the intercom with I'm in the mother's lounge nursing Odell. I bump in to fellow ward-members at the store and the first thing they say is "I knew you were here, I recognized Linus's voice a few isles down" or "Where's Linus? I didn't hear him" or "Wow- you take him out in public? That's brave..."
Strong willed? Definitely. Independent? No doubt in my mind. I will
never look at another mother's misbehaving child and assume anything about the parents ever again.
Despite all that, I still tuck him in at night before I go to bed and tear up a little now and again when I see his sweet sleeping form sprawled out on his bed. I will still cuddle him like he's a little cherub when he wakes up with a nightmare in the middle of the night. Even though I know his hugs and kisses are short lived, I eat them up when I get them. And I laugh outloud everytime I can tickle him and hear his hearty little boy giggle verberate across the house.
And I also pray that his terrible two's will end. Soon. :-)
In other news, Odell started giggling tonight! I was reading a book to Chloe and the Monster while holding a wriggling Odell on my lap with a pacifyer- Craig was finishing folding laundry and came downstairs and took Odell from me so I could finish the kids' book. Two seconds later I hear this sweet little giggle coming from the corner of the room and I see Craig tickling her and making weird faces at her. Had I not been so enchanted with the sound, I would have been irritated that after all the work I put into feeding, diapering, bathing, and putting to sleep while I'm at home she had to go and giggle at her dad the first two seocnds she spends with him. :-) Craig snickered at me later tonight when I was trying to imitate whatever he was doing to get her to laugh again. Guess I don't have the touch yet. :-)
Love this little girl to pieces.
