Prepare for Battle

Ever feel like life is just a series of battles? Battle here, battle there, battle battle everywhere. I battle with my daughter to take a nap without getting a bottle first, I battle with my house to stop barfing up clutter everywhere when my back is turned, and I engage in a battle of wills with my son just about every hour.

We went to a park today and of course Tate very quickly started making me want to pull my hair our. Par for the course. I just wonder what goes on in his little head sometimes, why he gets so frustrated and impatient that he can only express it by hitting or pinching. We try to tell him that it hurts, it's not nice, he'll get a time-out, someone will belt him back harder and we really won't be bothered to care all that much, blah blah BLAH. It doesn't sink in, he hits again, and we leave. It's a finely choreographed routine at this point. Apparently our family isn't much for spontaneity.

Then of course I notice the looks from other people, towards both me and Tate, and I let it affect me more than I should, because really, you think I'd be immune to it at this point. But he's still my son, stinker that he is, and when I can tell that people are disgusted or annoyed by him, it rankles me. I'm his mommy, and even though he drives me to bury my head under a pillow and scream obscenities that would make George Carlin blush, I grew the kid. He's still my baby.

Yes, he hits and yells and makes me wonder sometimes if his head is about to start spinning, but he also kisses his sister's boo-boos and strokes her on the head as she cries. He picks out the best french fry on his plate and gives it to me to eat. He buries his head in my lap and peeks up at me through his lashes, dimples flashing, as he asks "Are you just so proud of me, Mommy? Did I make you happy?" He gets out of bed sometimes at night when he hears me go into my room and asks if he can tuck me in. He's a series of ebbs and flows, rises and falls, smiles and tears, songs and screams. He's not easy, but he's never boring.

And honestly, I like that he's got such strong opinions. I like that he's stubborn and already knows how to stand his ground. He's tough, which often transitions into being naughty, which I'm not so crazy about, but at least he's not going to crumple into a heap and start wailing everytime someone looks at him the wrong way. He's smart. Quick. You really can't hope for more than that. Although there are days where I look at him and wonder if having a nice, dopey kid would be ALL that bad. Just kinda...bumbling along, singing "doo doo doo", getting entranced by a leaf or a rock...I wonder what that would be like, having a kid like that.

But he's not, so we will continue the battle. Someone's gotta back down eventually, right? Now if I could just get my house to stop refusing to stay clean. This battle's gonna be a bitch. Who am I kidding. I've already lost.