Wednesday, March 19, 2014

karma, threenagers, and juice

A letter to my mother, if she could have read it 30 years ago.

Dear Mom,

Fear not, karma soooo has this under control.  I know right now you are looking at that precious child you birthed and thinking "dear gawd she is a demon" but I assure you, what goes around comes around.

You see, I am that demon ... er, I am your daughter.  I am all grown up now nearly 30 years later with a child the exact age as I was when you first really started debating "can I sell her?"

You didn't sell me, and I am grateful, but I doubt you could have if you tried.  While I was cute, I was apparently an absolute mutant of a child.

You have told me that I would scream or shriek when I threw a tantrum so badly you were just sure someone would overhear and call the police convinced I was in the process of being boiled to death.  Reality being what it is, I was merely pissed you had dared utter the word "no" to me.  But for all those times you shared those stories and I rolled my eyes convinced you were exaggerating, even after my first child was born for he failed to have meltdowns of that level, I assure you I am now eating a feast of crow.

The Beans is cute, but oh. My. Goodness.  Hereforward for the sake of clarity we will call him Dr. Banner or Hulk.

It all started with Captain America.  No joke, it really did.

He loves these juice bottles with heads of characters on them, and most of all he loves Captain America.

I was out of Dr. Pepper and decided to splurge before we picked Meatball up from school.  We were going to get me 44 ounces of my drug of choice and him an apple juice with Captain America's head on it.  The whole way into the gas station he babbled about getting his hero and how he hoped they had one.  Well they did, but they also had Muck.  He is a stupid truck from Bob the Builder, a show Beans has watched ONCE.  But he was CERTAIN he needed Muck.  Had to have him.

But Muck is smaller than the Cap I said.  I showed him.  He saw that it was smaller and NOT Captain America.  He heard me tell him that I think he should get the Cap'n.

Yes, he hears all of it and knew, he wanted Muck the scoopy truck.

So after about a minute of my "are you sure"ing him he convinced me.  We bought Muck and my beloved Dr. Pepper.  We walked outside, buckled him into the car seat and then I pealed the seal off the Muck apple juice that we had already been discussing for about 3 minutes at least.  I handed it to him with a smile, certain he got the ridiculously expensive juice of his dreams.

"No, Mommy, I need my Captain America."  said Dr. Banner, the still reasonable big-blue-eyed angel in my car.

"Sweetie, you picked the truck one, we didn't get Captain America."

Then he did this.

Figuratively of course.  Well mostly, it did kinda look like that but he was less green and muscley.

I closed my door and took one sip of my 44 ounces of heaven.  I hadn't had a Dr. Pepper in 2 days and that caffeine flew to the pleasure receptors of my brain promising that we could handle this melt down.  He's usually a reasonable kid.  We will have maybe 5 minutes of yelling and whining, then he will be fine.

Oh how wrong I was.

I start to pull out of the parking lot, and this is when the Hulk realized the shmit was getting serious.  He started kicking the back of my passenger seat with everything he had.  The seat organizer that hung over the back was a casualty that he flipped up and started pummeling.

Unfortunately, as a driver, the sight of something suddenly flying like that startled me.  So I jerked the wheel.  Did I mention that the cup holders of a 2001 Corolla are really not equipped to hold a dixie cup much less 44 ounces of peace and deliciousness?

So 44 ounces (minus ONE sip) of Dr. Pepper dumps down on my feet, all over the pedals and floor.  Any moment now Noah will come floating along in the deluge I tell you.

I turn around and pull back into the gas station as it is the easiest place to go.  Hulk is now really screaming "GO INSIDE.  I NEED CAPTAIN AMERICA APPLE JUICE!!!"

If I had been on fire and Captain America apple juice was the only means with which to douse the flames ... well, burn baby burn.

So I scoop the ice out of my car into the parking lot.  I use my discarded sweatshirt to absorb what I can.  All to the tune of:


I try to calmly say no and reason with IT.  Nope.  I try the mom voice.  Nope.  I try the little-devil-that-was-my-last-$3-and-my-Dr.-Pepper-is-gone voice.  Still nope.

So I drive.  Realizing there is no way we can go to the grocery store with him like this I just decide to take the long way to Meatball's school to pick him up.  Maybe we will be there early, but hey the kid will likely fall asleep and I will have a quiet moment to crush some candy like a junkie needing some kind of fix since I am without caffeine now in the parking lot.

Yeah, I still was underestimating the sheer power of karma and the Hulk.

Over an hour later he was exhausted.  The Hulk fell asleep.  Thank goodness.  I privately swore to myself I'd kill anything that woke him -- see this is why we know where he gets his anger issues from.

Then he starts again.  In. His. Sleep.

Seriously, how is that even possible?!

I tried to soothe him.  I was even kind about it.  It was hard, but I did it.

He wakes up.


Okay, kid.  Sheesh.  I say nothing.


But I am being quiet!  I desperately point out.

"BE QUIET NOW MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Okay, he had me there, I had spoken.  So I stayed quiet.  But he kept screaming how I needed to be quiet NOW.  Then Meatball got in the car.


Dude, seriously, I am not talking!!!!

He started to go hoarse.  Then he shrieked until he gagged.  Each time I asked what was wrong (before the command to be silent of course) I was told "I DON'T KNOW!!!"

He kicked one shoe off at some point in this ridiculous mess and when we got home and I pried him out of the car and set him down he screamed anew at me for that. We got inside ... well after Paul Bunyan ran after him when he tried to run down the street screaming "I NEED MY SPIDERMAN SHOE!!!!" then carried the kicking screaming mutant inside.  He continued for a little bit and I sat on the ground.


I am waiting.  I said.  I think you need a hug, I told him.


I made the best sympathetic grimace I could, sure my ears were bleeding and the neighbors -- who had to have seen the screaming child try to flea in desperation -- had to be assessing if it was 911 worthy yet.  I held out my arms and said "I think my Beansie needs a mama hug."

Then he ran at me and threw himself in my arms.  We sat quiet for about 5 minutes with him just hiccup breathing and me regaining my hearing.  

I learned a new term today, mom.  It is "threenager" and I am hoping that it is a short lived phase because he isn't even actually three yet!

So, mother of mine, rest assured that I will some day get every ounce of what I have given.  I too will have friends smile and say "oh surely he didn't scream for the whole hour" while my left eye twitches.  I too will want to snap and scream and go as crazy as you probably did.  But I too will hug that little a-hole and tell him how much I love him, making him know he is incredibly special and safe and loved in spite of the monster he is being.  Just like you did.

And I will pray that he will grow out of this, just like I did.  Only sooner, please.

With love, respect, and wine,


No comments:

Post a Comment