15 weeks and counting...
Why are the cliches true? Why must I say everything three times? Why do the heads of small boys seem to retain absolutely nothing of any particular use, yet can recall the exact details of things like when they had their first slush puppy and the name of the boy whose house they long to play at. Actually that's harsh but sweet mercy it's hard stuff, this parenting thing, it's difficult, no?
Baby Brother is keeping me on my toes and on the constant verge of a nervous breakdown thanks to a fever that keeps teetering dangerously close to the 'call the doctor immediately' figures. And the logistics worry me; I know if I called the Dr immediately a nightmare of waiting-room endurance would ensue. I keep lugging the industrial sized fan from one room to another in order to position it near him, only to have him decide to head to the other room. It's starting to get a bit absurd, all this lugging and unplugging. And as soon as he sees me coming with the ice cubes and the cold flannel he starts wailing and running for the hills.
I don't understand The Boy's capacity to wind me up sky-high. After it reaches fever pitch I mentally debrief and conclude I'm being unreasonable or overly easy to irritate. And then we have one of our back-door-step chats and toast each other with tea and juice and resolve to stop being naughty / grumpy as appropriate. But he snatches and pushes and asks to watch the same episode of Dora ten million times a day and nags me endlessly without ever accepting my answer about anything and no amount of time-outs or stern talking-to's seem to change his behaviour. Infact they make it all much worse.
September cannot come fast enough, I heard myself mutter under my breath this morning, after I had literally beat my fists on the ground and pleaded with them to stop fighting over who was going to hold which half of dressie. Suddenly the thought of him being away at nursery every morning has stopped feeling like an emotional upheaval and more like a blooming welcome relief. But that's the thing, it's like his attention span and capacity for information are just bigger than I can accommodate. When I sat him at the table with the play-doh and talked at length about fevers and viruses and why we get temperatures he was wide-eyed and soaked up every second of the attention and information. When I turn my back to make lunch or wash up he starts wrapping cuddly toys around his brother's neck and slamming doors.
The toy garage that they worshipped in the house of our friends and which I thought would entertain them for hours at a time gets routinely pulled apart and strewn all over the playroom floor. This is their idea of playing. It still surprises me that they're not better able to entertain / occupy themselves in a room packed full of toys, unless I sit down and make myself the hub of the game. Then as soon as I get up to hang out laundry or make tea they fall into hysterical freaking out and trouble-making.
And at playgroup he's THRIVING, where it's stimulation and attention a-plenty. I think he might be a classic case of the kind of kid who craves stimulation (and even just attention which is sometimes stimulating enough in itself) and if the only kind of attention he can get is negative, well that's preferable and more stimulating than none at all so he goes hell-bent to get some of that kind. He's always been like that - he never fares well when playing with kids who are younger than him or just the types to play independently without interacting - that's always guaranteed to get him behaving in a way so as to provoke a reaction. But set him free with a gaggle of boys outside and he's the leader of the pack and the best behaved of the lot. It's SO draining and boring and frustrating. And stretching and challening and endearing and funny. Even Dada, he of the endless patience and good-humour, said he couldn't wait to get back to work for a break from the hard slog of parenting toddlers.
I think the answer must lie in providing more attention and stimulation of a positive kind. But I still can't wait for September.
I tell him he can ditch nap time and stay awake in the hopes that might elicit better behaviour, but he starts acting so giddy and out of control that I think the only thing that will get either of us through the afternoon is if he sleeps for most of it.
And I'm suddenly realising this is an uncharacteristic day at home due to Baby Brother's fever, and without fail every single unscheduled day spent indoors warrants this kind of post.
I also know I was the exact same kind of kid and that my entire family breathed a huge collective sigh of relief the day I went to school.
