Wednesday, May 24, 2006

so my surgeon says to me: no lifting at all on that side. that was two days ago, as I lay awake on a surgical table and she restitched me.

this morning, I took A. to the shops; the playground first so he could let off some steam, then the supermarket, then to a cafe we like for lunch. where he turned into Child From Hell. where he screamed "I want that chair"; "I want that fork"; "No"; I want some cake"; "no go in the pram"; "not going home yet" and so on, while I progressed from trying to reason with him to threatening him with the pram, to actually putting him in the pram (yes, he weighs 13 kg or so) while I tried to get bags for our sandwiches and pay to go. a woman came out of a nearby shop and appeared to be about to say something. I glared at her. I will never shop there. some people at a nearby table offered to help and I summoned all my politeness to say no thank you, I was fine. his screams penetrated the entire cafe (we were outside on the footpath tables, mind you). people stared. I couldn't rush: I can't drag him, I had shopping, food, oh, and the dog to deal with. he seemed unable to calm down, no matter what I did. and of course I couldn't explain to people why I let him lie on the footpath screaming: "oh, I've just got a massive incision healing on my chest". in retrospect I should have asked the nice couple who offered to help to pick him up for me. but how humiliating would that be? this is why I find this depressing: I can't do the things I should be able to do, for me or for him.

once we got home I could use the training method on him full-on. ie I gave him his food and ignored his screams. after, I admit, saying a couple of less than kind things to him on the way home, including "just shut up". he eventually settled and ate nicely. now I can hear him singing in his room after a 3-hr nap. I think we need to go back to the cafe, now, this afternoon, and he needs to a) apologise and b) sit nicely and eat something. seriously. yes, he's only 2 1/2. but he knows, and can learn, a lot more than I'd ever have thought before I had a kid of my own.

That was such a difficult stage with my daughter... It hit her at three, though. Two was glorious and I thought, "Ha. This child rearing thing. Piece of cake." Somebody out there heard me. :) Three was the year from hell. I tried that whole training thing with her, too. With her it was much more the bed-time fight. And the big first night letting her cry experience got going and she just really got herself winding up. A good while into it, the neighbors upstairs took it upon themselves to figure I must be abusing her by ignoring her cries like that. So they called their mom who in turn called my mom (small towns - gotta love 'em. Or something!) So pretty soon my mom calls and opens with, "Having a hard night there?" *exasperated sigh*

Hang in there. It does gett better. I'm sorry you are having to go through all of this now, though. :( Big hugs through the computer.
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