Yesterday was a rough day. Malcolm did not nap the day before and had a short night of sleep. So, yesterday he was a giant piece of shit. When he wanted something or wanted to go do something and did not get his way, he he fell to the floor crying. Then he got up and yelled at me. Then he tried to hit me with whatever blunt object was close by. Then, he would wander off into some other activity, and this would repeat itself. All day. I can’t tell you how many times I gave a long slow sigh and shook my head. Malcolm is now mimicking my response when he gets upset, “You are killing me dude!”
A day like this is frustrating because after a point, not only do you not like your kid, you don’t like what you have become. Normally, I don’t shout at Malcolm and try to remain dispassionate, but yesterday I yelled at Malcolm like he was in boot camp. I realized that I was being a terrible parent, but after so many tantrums and assaults, I could not effectively regulate my own behavior. So, I became a piece of shit too.
I finally made it through the day, and drank my reward beer. I know that when kids are evil, which no one tells you about before you have a child, that you have to beat the evil with creativeness and energy. Yesterday I lacked both, and I wondered what I was going to do differently the following morning. Then I realized that I didn’t necessarily need to. Kids have this crazy cool ability to forget about almost everything that has happened the day before and do not hold a grudge. In the movie, Memento, the main character wakes up every day without any memories, so he tattoos things on his body and writes himself notes. Unless you have promised your kids candy in the morning, kids, at least at this age, generally do not ever remembering anything from the previous day. Each day is a blank slate. Luckily for me, Malcolm doesn’t know how to write yet, so he cannot, tattoo “DO NOT TRUST THE FAT ONE, ALWAYS GO TO THE PRETTY FEMALE!” to his chest.
When Malcolm came stomping out of his room this morning, he gave me a big squeeze and said, “good morning” to me. I was ecstatic. Then I had to tell Malcolm that is was too early for him to come out of his room, and that he had to go back into the room until 7 am. He fell onto the floor crying, and I realized that I did, indeed need to figure out a new strategy. Maybe I am the one who needs to leave notes to himself.
Tags: Malcolm misbehaves, parenting
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A sad entry. Keep your spirits up. Tattooing oneself or one's child seems like a good idea at times but really the "I'm with stupid" T-Shirt fills the same need and doesn't effect his college options.
The man in your picture was at the fair last night.
You tell it like it is! Let me know when the "patience" flippin' fairy decides to come north.