Max loves to be outside. Loves to squish bugs (that's my fault), throw rocks (that's not my fault), throw anything, take anything apart (who knew there was a vent that blew hot air from the laundry out the side of our house...and who knew the vent flaps came off??) He likes to walk up and down the street and pick up pine cones and eat them. He loves to go for walks in his stroller (his throne) and he MUST HAVE SNACKS at all times. All in all, his little personality is shining and developing and it really is hilarious!
But then he bites me on the shoulder.
I start to say, "Don't you know I was the one who gave birth to you??" But I stop myself. I don't want to be that mom who is constantly reminding her children of how much they owe her. I can totally see how that happens though.
He bit me on the shoulder as I was carrying him home from down the street where he loves to pick up and throw giant rocks. I'm thinking to myself...okay: Take him in his room and tell him that biting people is wrong and leave him in his crib for 1 minute. But as I'm building myself up for this, his favorite neighborhood dog "Georgie" has finally emerged and is whining for us to meet him at his fence and throw his toy for him. Max and Georgie are practically best friends. Mike fostered this friendship - all the nights I wondered where they were, they were down the street playing with Georgie. It's pretty cute. So anyway, I figure playing with Georgie will get Max back on track (screw the 1 minute crib time-out!!)
We have finally worked up our dinner appetite so I prepare a gourmet meal for him with chicken, beans, corn, a little sweet potato...I mean come on! The kid eats like a king! It's all fun and games at dinner until he throws his food. He winds up his arm....looks right at me...and then chucks a bean as far as it can go. This is our nightly struggle. Is he not hungry? How can he tell the difference between what you can throw (balls) to what you can't throw (everything else)? Our pediatrician has recommended to take his food away and tell him sternly, "NO." I do that, but 5 seconds later he's winding up again. Do I need to be more stern? How do I get his attention without being the wicked witch of the west?
We get through that and have a lovely bath. I'm doing our usual routine of chasing him around his room to lotion him up, and he loves to crawl back behind his chair and play with his nightlight and the electric outlet. Because this is a matter of safety, I feel the need to be more stern here. I tell him that we don't play with that, and I try to pull him out of his den.
But then he bites me on the thumb.
I want to cry and say, Maxwell! Remember me? Your mother? I hobbled around for the last 3 months of my pregnancy because my body was at capacity and then I could barely walk for a month after I gave birth to you and then I fed you from my body for the first year of your life! You should be rubbing my back and writing me love poems! (Ashley, no. Guilt is not an appropriate motivator.)
Instead, I tell him no and sit in the chair with my arms bear-hugging him (a gentle restraint). He screams and cries so he must know this is my attempt to communicate that biting is wrong? Who freaking knows.
But you know what the worst part is...these little "challenges" I'm dealing with now? This will be easy compared to what's ahead! Life only gets weirder and moral situations only get deeper and how am I equipped to know off the top of my head what the answer is?? If only parenting duties were cleanly divided where Mike would handle all moral issues (and math homework) and I could just handle bath/kisses/Halloween costumes. Wouldn't that be a dream! I feel like I am constantly evaluating how I handled each situation: was that good? was that bad? don't do that...next time do this!
The days of just snuggling the baby are over. Now, each day I am a contestant in a very real game of Life.
 |
| Take me to Georgie!!! |
 |
| Don't ever leave us, summer! |
 |
| "The Fork" - a dangerous attempt to distract from food-throwing. |
No comments:
Post a Comment