Failure...

Tonight, even most of today, I am a failure as a parent. Not that this hasn't happened before, but Milo now has the ability to respond to my inability in much more harsh ways. I'm not actually sure if it's him or me, but it feels like me. This morning he was up early, so I was up early. I started out slow, we ate breakfast, and I started unpacking and moving things around with fervor. I've found I need to make use of these rare moments in pregnancy when some energy plus lack of nausea gives me a small window of opportunity. Small, lasted about an hour to ninety minutes. At which point, Milo got a little whiney, I got really tired and a little more aware of my rounder self, and we curled up on my bed with the computer tuned in to some favorite cartoons. I actually dozed off, not that that bother Milo, just meant he got to watch more.

Finally dragged myself up again, got us both dressed and decided we'd pack a lunch so we could head to the park when Mike got home a little after noon. Milo's been liking to help me in the kitchen, so I asked if he wanted to come sit on the counter. Yes. Ok. On the counter, I started to pull stuff out, he pitches a fit. OIy. Do you want some cars? No! Do you want to sit on the counter? No! Ok, down to the floor. NO! I WANT TO SIT ON THE COUNTER! I WANT SOME CARS! I try again and again to explain to him that when he says no, that means he does not want what I am asking, that if he does want that, he should say yes, or better, yes please. We're in the midst of this hopeless discussion when Mike comes in. Now it's escalated to Milo crying and yelling, "Mommy hold you Mommy hold you!" Bless his heart, Mike steps in, allowing me to pack lunch. The park was fairly successful, and after a little picnic and a lot of play, we headed back.

Some resistance to nap, but nothing I couldn't handle. He slept for a good 2, 2.5 hours and woke up super crabby. Usually I'd just leave him in bed and let him cry it out, but partly because I knew Mike would be heading to sleep, and partly because I thought a little mom-cuddle time might remedy the situation, I got him up. Bad idea. Cuddling work long enough for Mike to go to bed, then all hell broke loose. Everything I did or didn't do was wrong and resulted in screaming crying. Managed a decent dinner with the help of a Thomas episode, my kid's a couch potato at 2, another failure, we fought over him watching another one, then he didn't want to watch another one and wanted to finger paint. Okay, fine, I pull out some paints I managed not to pack and set him up. That lasts about 90 seconds before he wants me to paint for him. I try helping him paint, but that irritates him more. More tears and screaming. I have him sit on a chair with his blanket for a minute to regain control of his breathing. It's about 6:30pm and I'm praying for bedtime. Screw it. Ready for a bath, buddy? No bath!! Okay, straight to bed? NO, I WANT A BATH! Not this again. Go upstairs, run the bath, he brings some cars to play with, get him in the bath and he freaks out again. Throws his cars out of the tube, then screams that he wants his cars. Not going to give in to that one at the moment. He's crying, I'm trying to rub his back, which he seems to really like recently. Kinda helps. I ask him if his tummy hurts, thought he just ate fine, he says no, not that that means anything to him. I ask him if I can feel his teeth, which he always finds kinda funny, and is a good way for me to check and see if his molars are coming in. NO! Okay, out of the tube, into jammies, I pull some books and tell him to pick some to. He sees one of the ones I picked, usually one he likes, and he freaks out. I bring my pile to the rocking chair and sit, watching him cry, baffled. He finally comes over with a book, I read him about 8 books, stretching time to a little after 7pm, we rock a I try to snuggle, but now he's all energy and wants to tackle Sally who's by his bed. Fine. He does, then I do manage to tuck him in, he freaks out about a blanket he doesn't want, I cover his feet with it, give him a drink of water, say goodnight, and escape.

I can't believe I even say the word escape when it comes to my kid's room. I know that parenting isn't easy, I know I'm not always going to be the best, I know that my kid is 2 and going through all kinds of crazy changes right now, geographically, socially, physically, but how have I completely lost the ability to communicate with my child? How have I already forgotten how to find a way to steer him straight and find the balance between happiness and direction? I'm so tired tonight. And I really want a glass of wine and a pint of Chubby Hubby, neither of which are possible.