Yesterday was rough. Really rough.
I woke up in a “I don’t feel like parenting today” mood. Do you ever have those? Am I the only one who does? I hope I’m not the only one. I liken it to the “I don’t feel like going to work” attitude. And why not have the attitude every now and then? This is what I do 24/7. But I put my big girl panties on and dove in.
Maybe G picked up on my bad attitude. Maybe its teething (he only has four to go). Maybe he was having tummy troubles. But he was cranky as soon as he finished breakfast.
Nothing I did was right. I put on a DVD for him while I cleaned up the kitchen. Whining until I changed it to the one he was asking for. Still not good. I told him to sit on his bottom going down his slide. Tantrum. I told him it was too cold to go outside. Tantrum. I tried changing his diaper. Tantrum. I put him in the car to find a nearby farm. Tantrum. I took away a water bottle because he was dumping water on the coffee table. Tantrum.
As I was carrying him upstairs for a diaper change the words, “I’m getting really tired of your attitude today,” flew out of my mouth. They just came out. I couldn’t stop them. I felt bad that I said this. Even worse I used a bigger word like “attitude” that G wouldn’t really get quite yet.
A whiny “Tude! Tude!” between sobs is what I got in response.
He did okay at lunch. I gave him a little bit of space and he ended up eating nearly everything I put in front of him. Then he pooped. He was quite agreeable to go upstairs for a diaper change, as he usually is when he has a poopy diaper. This time he wanted to take three toy cars with him. He insisted on trying to crawl up the stairs with them in hand. He tripped, or slipped, or something and wham! He fell on a car on the second step.
I honestly thought his throat landed on a car. But alas, he hit just under his lower lip on his face and his teeth busted up the inside of his lower lip. G did that terrifying silent scream for what seemed like an eternity (the longer it is, the worse the injury, I find).
Then came the blood.
G is not only sticking fingers in his mouth to help his teething pain, he’s also constantly drooling everywhere. Now he was spitting out, swallowing, or drooling blood. Everywhere. I didn’t think it was going to stop and was slightly panicked as I tried to figure out how getting to a doctor would work while he was bleeding in the back seat of my car. But it finally did after about fifteen minutes. We eventually made it upstairs to change G’s diaper, where he finally calmed down. Then we watched a little bit of Caillou before I decided to give him some Tylenol. His fingers had been in and out of his mouth all morning. We have been lucky enough to not need Tylenol for teething, but I could only imagine how his mouth felt now that he had a busted lip too. Plus, I wanted him to take a nap.
G took an hour and a half nap. Better than the 30-40 minute naps we got from him last week. He was pleasant for about another hour after that before the tantrums came back. And then I got a call from Hubby telling me he wouldn’t be home on time. He’d be 2-3 hours late. Of course he will! I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.
I snuck off to pee and as I was washing my hands I realized my shirt sleeve was covered in blood, my hair was a mess, and I had a sticker on my boob. At this point, I didn’t care. I remained this way until I took a shower and got ready for bed.
After dinner I made G help me clean up his toys (that is, I cleaned up his toys) and we headed outside to, hopefully, greet Hubby when he came home. We went for a short walk (the third one of the day). G got upset when I wouldn’t let him play in the neighbor’s garden. He got cranky when I told him we had to stay in the front yard. He got cranky when I told him he couldn’t play with some plastic plates he found.
I ended up giving in on the plates. In return G made me food:
By 6:30 I was done. Just. Done. G appeared to be done too because he was more than willing to go inside and up stairs to get ready for bathtime. Hubby walked in as I was undressing G so I ended up getting a fifteen-minute “break” to empty garbage cans and do some dishes before I had to read books.
As I read the usual three books, it was clear G was just as exhausted as I was. His eyes were even red from his fits of crying throughout the day. G was in bed by 7. The earliest he’s gone to bed in a long while.
Dude. Toddlers. I’m glad that days like this have not been the norm around here, but when they happen they make me want to run far, far away. Yes, there were some good parts in between the many bad moments. But I honestly think kids throw those good parts in so you won’t actually run away. At least, that’s what I think G does.
Luckily today has been better. I’ve gotten several random hugs. G’s way of apologizing maybe?