Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Better Days

For the fourth day in a row, Fynn is throwing tantrums of epic proportions. Kicking, screaming, hitting, crying fits. He wasn't this dramatic or hurtful when he was two. But now he's three. And he's so three.

Today it's because we are leaving a friends house. We have to go home. He kicks and he screams, out the door, into the pouring rain and then into his carseat. Screams and thrashing as I buckle him in, my back getting drenched as it takes three times as long as usual to secure him into the seat.

I don't want to go home! I don't want to go with you! I want to stay!

Cries and screams ensue. My chair is kicked from behind with anger and passion I had no idea a three year old could muster. But he does.

If he knew the word hate, I'm sure it would be thrown around a few times, just for good measure.

The rain pours down, pitter pattering on the hood of our car. He yells that he wants to go outside. I tell him it's raining.

It's NOT raining! I don't want to go home!!!!!

He screams. I yell back that I don't want to go home either.

And I don't. I have no desire to go home, to cook the same dinner I've cooked day in and day out. Where the walls of February collapse around us by the end of the long, dark days. But still, we are homeward bound.

At one point Paige chimes in with her shrill toddler girl screams. Just because she can. Fynn screams at her for making noise, screams at me that he still doesn't want to go home. Over and over.

On the highway cars whip past us, surrounded by mist and rain drops and fog. Screams and yells and kicks and headaches. Arms tired from clenching the wheel, eyes tired from fighting back the tears and squinting through the windshield wipers.

I turn the radio up to drown out the sounds of the backseat.

I don't WANT to listen to MUSIC mommy! TURN IT OFF!!!

Louder and louder. I drown the voices out and keep driving. The voices fade but the crying never does.

For once I'm thankful for the streams of water running past my driver and passenger side windows so the commuter traffic can't see my hot tears, as they stream down my cheeks and drip off of my chin. Pooling on my fleece, disappearing between drops of rain.

And I ask God to protect me, to give me strength as I cry tears of fear and sadness. Fear that this is the way it's going to be. Sadness because I feel beaten down by a three year old, weak and tired from fighting. Always correcting and staying positive, and reinforcing and being stable and consistent. To have it get us here. Defeated.

The song changes on the radio to the Goo Goo Dolls and my tears run faster as the lyrics pound in my head, loud enough for me to listen:

I need some place simple where we could live
and something only you can give
and that's faith and trust and peace while we're alive
and the one poor child who saved this world
and there's ten million more who probably could
if we all just stopped and said a prayer for them

So take these words and sing out loud
'cause everyone is forgiven now
'cause tonight's the night the world begins again

I wish everyone was loved tonight
and somehow stop this endless fight
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days

We make it home, through continuous screams of I don't want to go home! now alternating with Leave me ALONE!!

Inside the bags are thrown down, jackets torn off, demands start. For movies, for cookies, for being anyplace but home.

I grab him and hug him hard, through his yells and both of our tears. He yells that he doesn't want to be here. I hang on for dear life, fending off his thrashing and tell him I love him. Maybe fifty times, until his his body becomes soft and limp and he's crying into, instead of against, me.

We cry. Together. As Paige toddles over, trying to climb over us, giggling as she's pulled into our embrace.

The storm is passing, but it's not over yet. We wait, embracing the last moments of pounding rain and epic winds.





Posted by Corinne at 6:50 PM
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29 comments:

  1. While you were putting Paige in the car I told him if he stayed he would have to wear baby girl pajamas, eat green beans for dinner, and sleep in the crib. He said he would, but I think he was fibbing! Maybe I should have sent you home with Charlie!
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  2. I kind of think he would have!!! You should have heard it... "I WANT TO STAY WITH B'LINDA AND ZOE!!!!" (I didn't put that in the post 'cause I didn't want to make you feel bad ;))
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  3. I remember those moments.
    Fast forward to a 14yr old girl who does know the word hate.
    But that was last week. This week I am the coolest mom on the planet.
    Kid's...whadda ya do!
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  4. Next time leave him! I am happy to keep him for the night but I am pretty sure he will want to go home around bed time when Mommy and Daddy are not there to snuggle him!
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  5. Oh My...I am so sorry dear! This makes me want to call my Mama and apologize. I certain that every mother has days like this!
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  6. That sounds all too familiar. Jackson's favorite phrase these days is "go away!"
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  7. So you know my post today about saying Yes instead of saying No? Yeah, well if I had had a day like yours it would have been filled with No-No-No-No-No. I'm so sorry. I hope you are enjoying a quiet night with a hot cup of tea. xoxo
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  8. I also hope it is your quiet tea time. 3 sucks a little, huh? Harry's like a teeny moody teenager. It would be funny if it weren't February.
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  9. Wow, Corinne...I have tears in my eyes because I can totally relate to this. My kids are no strangers to tantrum throwing. And it's so hard not to engage and to stay un affected when we're feeling run down. I'd say you did the right thing by loving it out! We all have days where we just need to be loved so hard in spite of ourselves! Big hugs to you!
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  10. That sounds ROUGH! I'm sorry. I hope he shows his sweet-side for you VERY soon!
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  11. The terrible two's are really deceiving, because really, they have nothing on the 3's.
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  12. Oh my, you and I are samey-same these days. Today, I had to stay home with my sick son. Which meant my husband had to get my 2 year old daughter out of the house to preschool, with me still home (I'm usually already gone). After much coaxing that wasn't working, we both struggled to get her in her carseat, kicking, screaming, sooo upset at us. It ended with her barfing up her entire breakfast on her front and carseat. Perfect. Just perfect. We threw up our hands.

    Oh, and she says the "I DON'T LIKE THIS SONG" in the car too everyday.

    But those hugs are the best relief after an episode, when you feel them melt into you. But really? They should've known all along that Mama is always love.
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  13. Two was nothing compared to three. My daughter is a mess too...hanging on for dear life over here as well. At least we're not alone?
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  14. Oh Corinne, I remember the days! Those ones that feel like you're always correcting, the negative has outweighing the postive. At times it comes like "Groundhog Day" over and over again. But it does happen. One day goes smoother than yesterday and it continues with a few hiccups but eventually you've crossed over. That awful chasm of Mommy-Bootcamp, or whatever it's called. It's rough. But it's temporary. Hang in there!
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  15. Oh Corinne, what a day! Hang in there, it is hard to believe, but this too will pass.
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  16. Sounds like this house. :) Three is worse than two, so just be ready for a long time of this. It gets easily to handle and hang in there. I promise. Or, is it that you just get used to it. I really liked your intervention. I'm survived you had enough mental and emotional energy after that to blog!
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  17. Sometimes all you can do is cry along with them. Because you're so right: When they are three, they are very three. (And I'm glad I'm not the only one who turns the music up, too.)
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  18. So well said, and so true. Those hugs and giggles after the storm blows over are priceless. With those great lows come great highs. =]
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  19. What an honest and beautiful post! Um - I can relate on every level. Although sometimes we feel alone in our struggles - there are others also going through similar experiences. Being a mom is so hard. Thanks for putting it out there - because it really helps the rest of us. Big hug from one struggling mom to another.
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  20. I remember those days and I love how honestly you wrote this...no high gloss and motherhood magic. It's just the way it goes some days. And when they are 23, believe me, the landscape has changed, but it's still a climb. And lots of hugs.
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  21. Oh, came over from Krista's for a visit.
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  22. I know these days all too well. I'm sorry it was a rough one, but have no fear that Better Days...are coming for you :)
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  23. :( What a horribly difficult day for both you & Fynn. My mom always told me that the "Terrible Twos" were a myth, that three was dramatically more difficult. And then they turn four, and it's like a front passes and the skies clear, and life suddlenly settles and becomes somewhat easier to bear.
    I hope today has been a better, brighter day for you.
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  24. Oh I cried reading this, I have been there so many times, my daughter is four tomorrow does this mean it will all stop (please say yes) I have days where I think "I cant do this anymore" but somehow you keep going x
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  25. Good Lord. You know my Piper. I mean, you don't, but you DO. And she's not even three yet. I cried with you, reading this. I think if I met you, I would sit quiet with you. No answers, no advice, just sit quiet. Because you know. No explanation or conversation needed.

    Our children would either hate or love each other. If they did the latter, they would gang up on us. And maybe we could laugh at them, these two against the whole world.
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  26. These moments are SO.HARD. Sometimes you really do feel so helpless, like you're in the middle of an actual raging storm ... except it's a storm you cannot take shelter from because you have to be in the midst of it. When Gabe does this, I've found comfort in words of friends older, wiser than me who have been through this phase of late twos and early threes: he feels safe with you to let it all out ... to wear his heart on his sleeve ... to shout and kick and scream because you are the person he KNOWS will love him regardless.
    Somehow when the tantrum is raging, I find peace in knowing that he trusts me enough to let it out. Sometimes. Other times I want to go drown my sorrows in chai.
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  27. I am definitely in this battle with you. These are my days, most day with my two year old (although, he isn't as verbal yet, and perhaps that makes it easier). I ask the Lord daily, "Does every day have to be like this? Can't we have just one good day?" I love that you remained in control and ended the storm with a hug.
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  28. So glad to read this and feel not quite so alone ... i had really thought it was my own fault, for building my little boy (who was an easy peasey baby) into something that a child his age is simply not hardwired to be -- good. obedient. concerned for mommy's feelings.

    Which leads to the "discipline" conversation, which ties me in knots trying to know how much/when, which makes me realize that this motherhood gig is hard work -- infinitely harder than any paycheck job i've ever done.

    And (what is hard to remember but true all the same) ... much more rewarding. Every day that you hold it together (just hold it together, no mommy perfection delusions here) is a gift to your child -- because nobody can do that for them the way you can.

    Know that you are in a sisterhood, lady... Keep fighting the good fight.
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  29. I hate to know other moms go through it but I love to know I'm not alone in the wilderness. The moments of buckling a screaming, angry child into a 5-point-harness are unbearable and it's no wonder no one told us about them before we had children. I rarely get through it without hot tears gathering in my eyes and telling myself (and only sometimes succeeding) to not scream back. And now when it happens, I literally think to myself "Other moms do this, too. I'm not alone in this." And it helps.
    Thank you for reminding me.
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