By Tracy M
I’m in trouble. Big trouble. The middle Monkey is putting on some serious tantrums and acting-out since Abby was born, and while I was expecting some problems, this really is more than I bargained for. I know I can’t return him, and although I fantasize about some magic Toddler-Whisperer swooping down and taking him to Babies-R-Good for the day, I know that’s really not going to solve my problems. So yet again, I turn to you, my fair mommy friends, in a plea for help.
While I’m not sure what constitutes a “regular” tantrum, I’m pretty sure that Eric’s are borderline psycho. When he gets told “No” about anything, he falls on the ground and begins to convulse- not outside of normal, I’ll give you that- but how about ripping off his clothes? Or taking his shoes off and throwing them at me, or any passers by? Or biting himself? Or stripping his bed down to the bare mattress? Or emptying bookshelves in fell-swoops? Or tipping over tables in the living room? I’m talking Tazmanian Devil, folks. And I am at a loss.
This morning, the Monkey’s got up before me, and they opened some collector toys the DH had on his dresser- toys that were like “Stinky Pete” from Toy Story 2, old, and still new-in-the-box; I guess that means something on E-bay, but it will never mean anything to us now, since the toys are open and already broken. So much for that extra 20 minutes of sleep, eh?
After breakfast, I unfortunately had to go to Target. How sad Target has been reduced to “unfortunately”- I tried to find a sitter, but pride convinced me I could do it alone. What’s that about pride coming before the fall? yeah, they were right.
The second mistake was not having any cash to buy the $1 popcorn deal- Never again will I not have four quarters in the bottom of my purse.
My oldest, Jeffrey (4), is being very good and staying right with me, the middle Monkey, Eric (2) is in the basket of the cart, and baby Abby (6 weeks today, can you believe it?) is in her bucket in the top of the cart. We make our way through the store to the baby department- I have some things to exchange. She is like a weed.
Here is where the real drama began. Eric wants to push the buttons on some baby toy he sees. We are already past it and almost to the boys department to get my other Weed some new drawers. I tell Eric no, some other time and try and distract him with Superman underwear. And thus begins the tantrum.
He is flopping around in the basket of the cart like a beached Mackerel, kicking and screaming. His voice is hoarse from his many screaming binges lately, so he sounds really bad. His legs are bruised from all the things he has kicked, too. I’m sure he looks abused, and while I may really want to sometimes, I have never flogged him. He begins to wail like an air-horn, and Jeffrey is taking this opportunity to stroll further than he should. Abby begins to cry, and my breasts begin to leak, because of her cries- all in the matter of 2 minutes.
While wresting with the Mackerel, I threaten him with taking away his binkies if he doesn’t quiet down. He shuts off the air-horn and settles for just flopping around and a low whine. Pushing the cart with my arms crossed because milk is soaking my shirt, I change my plans. Let’s just get the underwear and leave- See how quick I am!
When I turn to grab what I need, Eric has jumps out of the cart and takes off running. I move to run after him, but realize my newborn is still in the cart and I can’t leave her. Her, and my leaky boobs. Grabbing the cart, I wheel it around like a maniac, yelling for Eric- I can’t see him now, and have no idea where he is, and Jeffrey has taken off after him, hollering “Come back here, Bean, right now!” He sounds like the mom. I can’t see either of them, but I can hear them. Another mom pushes her cart by, her two children sedately and quietly sitting, and she asks if I need help. Why yes, where do you get your children tranquilized? Nevermind…
Two aisles over, Jeffrey has apparently tackled Eric, and begins to drag him back to me. When I say drag, I mean literally drag… by his shirt. Eric’s lip is bleeding, I presume from when Jeff tackled him, and he is smiling, now. Quite satisfied with himself, I imagine.
Time to go, anyone? Finally I figured out that we didn’t belong there, needful errand or not, civil society is no place for us. Unceremoniously I plop Eric back in the cart and tell them we are leaving. So Jeffrey starts to cry because he was good and he wanted to get a toy for being good….
Another mom walks by with more tranquilized kids, and gives me The Look- (Control your kids, lady) Doncha love that one? As if I wouldn’t duct tape them if I could? Do I look like I’m enjoying this? At this point, Eric takes his shoe off and throws it at the lady. Do you think he read my mind? Sometimes I wish I was two, too.
So, we are home now. Abby is fed and happy, Jeffrey is watching Thomas the Train Engine on PBS and Eric is lifting weights in the play room. You think I’m kidding? They are little weights, but he is pumping them sure as the Governor of California is the Terminator. No one got any toys. No one got any errands complete. No one cracked and went to the funny farm, either. All in all, a resounding success of a day, wouldn’t you say? …help…