In my youth and early 20's *sigh*, I positively loved being filled with ignorant bliss. I knew everything! I mean Everything! No one could tell me otherwise. Then, I turned 28... and ...BANG! The realization that I knew absolutely nothing hit me like a ton of bricks. It was almost like I had one of those TV montages flashbacks where I relived all of the stupid things I said or did in the deep throws of my ignorant bliss. From that moment on, I kept my mouth shut... except when it came to parents and their children. I still had them figured out.
I still knew how to raise a child better than the parents I saw out in public with their heathen brats. Fools they were. I knew for a fact I was going to do SO much better. My kid was not going to cry in the store or run out in to the street or parking lots, nor was he going to throw temper tantrums in church and he surely was NOT going to be a spoiled little brat. FULL STOP!
I was so wrong that I am pretty sure that my son is going to do all of the above mentioned to a professional level. He has already cried bloody murder in public, run wild through the grocery store and attempted to break free and run into traffic... he is only a year old... I SO am screwed!
I don't know what happened. One day he is laying there fresh from the hospital, smiling big gassy-ass smiles and cooing. Then the next day he is a fussy little shit that whinges until he gets his way, which is 98% of the time. (Usually 100% of the time when it 's on FTD's watch by the way!) (*cough* Bullshit! - FTD) (*finger pointing* "Bullshit!" You know you are a bigger sook than me!-FTM)
I guess I kind of know how it happened... I (WE) spoil him with the worst kind of unconditional love. You, know the kind of unconditional love that creates big ass brats! Every time our sweet little boy fusses we run to his aid. Or when I take something away that he shouldn't be playing with, and as a result starts fussing and crying, my dumb-ass simply gives it back. (I admit FTD is pretty good at not caving on this one.) Or worse when I put Oliver down for a nap and he cries, one of us inevitably goes in to get him to try to rock him to sleep. (FTD is really bad about this.) At 14-months old he is fully aware that all it takes is a little fussing to get his way.
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| Ollie: LET ME OUT! Me: Oh, OK. I know it will suck, but I just want you to be happy. (Oh and please note the face in this photo, he is only half ass fussing! He knows that's all it takes.) Dammit I need a slap! |
I am officially... THAT mom.
I am the mom with the crazy crying and/or wild mess of a child in public. I am the mom with the fussy baby who gets his way when he totally should not! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! How could I screw this up?
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| Bye Bye Mommy.... |
1. Continue down this road of crap parenting, "Please don't cry, here you can stay up late and have the scissors."
or
2. Invest in ear plugs and pray the kid doesn't hate me?
I know... the latter is my only viable option to not having an annoying spoiled brat man-child. Still it is not so cut and dry! These early years are such an important time for growth and exploration for my child. If I cut him off at every pass that may be slightly dangerous or annoying, I will be doing my child a huge disservice.
There is a fine line between being tough all of the time and letting my son have his way to express himself and learn. I have to think of Ollie, in some situations, as a child I am mentoring to be a wise little Yoda. (Yes, FTD, I said Yoda.) I have to chose my battles wisely and not be a push over so I can teach Oliver how to be a well behaved respectable child. I have to set aside my want to make Ollie happy all of the time, so I can teach him to be a wonderful and bright member of society. I have to work harder to make the right choices for my son, so in turn he will learn to make the right choices for himself. Even if it makes me THAT mom sometimes...
To all of you mothers (and fathers) out there that I gave the stink eye to for having a crying fussing kid, I am sorry. I realize you were being a great parent and doing what was best for your child... and your sanity.
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