Oy. Oy vey.
It turns out that being a parent is very, very hard work! No, I did not just figure this out today, but yes, it still comes as a shock every now and again.
My precious little angel-pie-face-nugget-love-munch, well how can I put this delicately? I want to punch him in the face. Oh wait. Is that bad? Should I not admit that out loud?
We decided not to spank anymore. We've each done it a few times but it makes both of us feel so badly, well, its just not worth it. However, that means we actually have to think about discipline and appropriate responses and, you know, outsmart our kid. UGH! Its actually really, really hard.
Its the gray areas that are killing me. If Conor hits me, simple, time out. But what if he pats me? Or what if he taps me? Or what if the taps and pats turn into something close to a hit but still not quite an actual hit? Does anyone know where the line between pats and taps and hits resides? I keep looking but it keeps moving.
We were at the library today and I swear, I wanted to lock him in bathroom stall and leave him there. He was yelling and "no"-ing and pulling books off the shelves and throwing them on the floor. Finally, we just had to leave. But its embarrassing! I know, I know, all other mothers have had their kids misbehave at one time or another but in that moment, I felt like my kid was the only one in the world who was being a turd. These other kids, and I kid you not, had freaking halos over their heads. Meanwhile, my kid's head is floating off his shoulders and spinning in circles while smoke comes out his ears. Or was the smoke from my ears? Anyway, we were straight out of The Exorcist.
Anyway, I'm self medicating with Chips Ahoy. Four of them right now but I should be able to consume at least another four before the end of nap.
**Special side note: Thanks Grandpa Joe for sending me the list of family names! Love you**