We've had the birthday. My little toddler is now 3 (is he still a toddler?) and for me this means one thing....
Terrible two's didn't really seem to exist for us, sure he had his moments but on the whole he was and always has been a happy little boy, content to play by himself and most of the time a pleasure to be around but now - The Threenanger has arrived.
Definition: a person of 3 years of age who acts and possesses the attitude of a teenager.
It's like a switch has been flipped and he's turned into a boy I don't recognise. A boy I am struggling with. There are tantrums over everything. If I cut his sandwiches into the wrong shape you'd think WW3 was about to start. If I put his drink in the wrong cup, make the wrong kind of car sound when we're playing or god forbid ask him to put the toy down and come for lunch I hear screams, moaning and crying (either that or just simply running away). But the screams have gone to a new level and have taken new purpose, they seem to have replaced words in some cases. Where I thought his vocabulary was coming on quite nicely it now seems like he's gone backwards. He now points and whines at things if he can't reach them, or screams if he needs help instead of just asking. He screams if he has hurt himself and says "I've banged my".......my what?? Head? Knee? What have you banged? - his response is more screaming.
He has learned a new trick of placing his hands over his ears or covering his eyes when he doesn't like the sound of something I'm saying. I have to repeat myself over and over and over again to get him to do a simple task that never used to be a problem. I used to have the knack to make him listen, the trick in keeping the upper-mum-hand and that seems to have gone out the window. He's changed the rules and I didn't get the memo. And it's so draining.
I feel sorry for The Man. When he comes home from work I used to at least try to greet him with a smile and not unload my feelings and/or the kids on him straight away but now I don't have the energy. I'm exhausted emotionally and physically and I can't hide it or summon up the energy to keep it under wraps when he walks through the door. I either find myself venting to him before I've even said hello or I don't even greet him at all. (Sorry darling)
The phrase "I can do it" is being used a lot now too. Whether its climbing in/out of the car by himself, pouring his own milk onto his weetabix or walking down the stairs on his own with 5 teddies - he does not want my help. Don't get me wrong, independence is great and I'm all for some of it, trying to get himself dressed for example is brilliant as would getting into his own car seat if it didn't add on an extra 10 minutes to every journey, and when I don't have such a short fuse I marvel at how much he's grown and how proud I am the he can do it. But my temper is short, shorter than I'd like at times. If The Man annoyed me this much I'd ignore him for a while or take myself into a different room to re-group but I can't do that with my kids. Just as I try to take a minute The Baby decides he needs something from me, or it's time to get out the door for something. This cycle keeps going round and round. It feels never ending.
Maybe I'm taking it more to heart because I have the added stress of being pregnant again or maybe it really is as bad as I think it is. Either way I'm finding it hard. If only I could have large glass of wine! (better not dwell on the wine thought, I might cry!)
Speak soon x
Terrible two's didn't really seem to exist for us, sure he had his moments but on the whole he was and always has been a happy little boy, content to play by himself and most of the time a pleasure to be around but now - The Threenanger has arrived.
Definition: a person of 3 years of age who acts and possesses the attitude of a teenager.
It's like a switch has been flipped and he's turned into a boy I don't recognise. A boy I am struggling with. There are tantrums over everything. If I cut his sandwiches into the wrong shape you'd think WW3 was about to start. If I put his drink in the wrong cup, make the wrong kind of car sound when we're playing or god forbid ask him to put the toy down and come for lunch I hear screams, moaning and crying (either that or just simply running away). But the screams have gone to a new level and have taken new purpose, they seem to have replaced words in some cases. Where I thought his vocabulary was coming on quite nicely it now seems like he's gone backwards. He now points and whines at things if he can't reach them, or screams if he needs help instead of just asking. He screams if he has hurt himself and says "I've banged my".......my what?? Head? Knee? What have you banged? - his response is more screaming.
He has learned a new trick of placing his hands over his ears or covering his eyes when he doesn't like the sound of something I'm saying. I have to repeat myself over and over and over again to get him to do a simple task that never used to be a problem. I used to have the knack to make him listen, the trick in keeping the upper-mum-hand and that seems to have gone out the window. He's changed the rules and I didn't get the memo. And it's so draining.
 |
| This looks idyllic but what I'm saying is "Don't go too far, stay away from the water please. Stop now, wait for Mummy!" |
The phrase "I can do it" is being used a lot now too. Whether its climbing in/out of the car by himself, pouring his own milk onto his weetabix or walking down the stairs on his own with 5 teddies - he does not want my help. Don't get me wrong, independence is great and I'm all for some of it, trying to get himself dressed for example is brilliant as would getting into his own car seat if it didn't add on an extra 10 minutes to every journey, and when I don't have such a short fuse I marvel at how much he's grown and how proud I am the he can do it. But my temper is short, shorter than I'd like at times. If The Man annoyed me this much I'd ignore him for a while or take myself into a different room to re-group but I can't do that with my kids. Just as I try to take a minute The Baby decides he needs something from me, or it's time to get out the door for something. This cycle keeps going round and round. It feels never ending.
Maybe I'm taking it more to heart because I have the added stress of being pregnant again or maybe it really is as bad as I think it is. Either way I'm finding it hard. If only I could have large glass of wine! (better not dwell on the wine thought, I might cry!)
Speak soon x
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