I just read this post on Anne Marie's blog and it totally reminded me of my everyday life.
It must be the temperament of the 3 year old boy that makes them all insane in the membrane. AMs Owen is just a few months older than Dylan, and yeah, they're like the same kid as far as I can tell.
What I didn't write about the field trip experience this week was that Dylan was sort of a pain in the butt the whole time. He wasn't really BAD or misbehaving really, he was just stubborn. He wanted his way, he wanted to do what HE wanted to do and all others be damned.
On the way over he DIDN'T want to hold my hand. Then he did. Then he didn't.
Whenever the long line of kids would stop -- to say, cross the street safely -- Dylan would FLIP OUT!
"We gotta go! We gotta go! Weeeee gotta goooooo! We gotta go!!!"
On and on and on.
Then after the kids got to hop through the firetruck, Dylan decided he wanted to hop into ALL the fire trucks and water tankers and the personal vehicles of all the fire men and woman (I only saw one gal).
And of course I couldn't let him run all around in the vehicle garage and play with axes... But WHYYYYYYY NOT!!!!!
He's not bad, he's just a boy. He's impetuous, impatient, curious and loud. He's interested in everything around him and doesn't understand why he can't go poke that dog in the face. He's energetic and athletic and insane...which is why he jumps off my bed into a sea of pillows about 47,000 times a day.
But he's also very sweet and kind. He loves animals and his baby brother and big sister. He's first in line to kiss an owie away, and first in line to get his owies kissed away.
He never has to be told to share. If you give him two cookies, he'll find his sister and hand her one.
When he's very sad all he wants is a big hug from mom or dad. He loves to play kitchen and make us all "dinner" and serve it up.
"Here's your mackit cheese! Here's your pizzas! Here's your coffee for mommies!"
So I love him, even though some days I swear I want to boot him out of the car and leave him on the side of the road because he just won't stop crying that his car fell and I can't get it for him because I'm freaking driving and why why whyyyyyy!!!
"I need my car baaaaaack!!"
And I forgive him, even when he kicks off his shoes in WalMart for the 18th time that day and I have to bend over and pick them up AGAIN and then when I finally get fed up with that game and throw the shoes in the cart he screams so loud that baby birds nesting in the rafters explode a la Shrek....
And I hug him, even though I think it's ridiculous that he's crying hysterically because he was scared by a dog barking about two miles away.
And I snuggle with him until he falls asleep, even though I really, really wish he would sleep in his own bed again because frankly, he's cute, but he's not the man I want cuddled up to me every night.
So, yeah, we all have our bad days, our sad days, our really really mad days. I go to bed almost every night frustrated and exhausted and wishing I knew the secret pain-free, guilt-free, therapy-free way to raise perfect children.
But it's not out there. The only secret is to love them.
It's terrible to always be second-guessing myself and wondering if I'm raising them properly. But honestly, if I or you or any mom or dad ever stopped caring whether or not they are doing a good job with their kids, that's when it's really terrible for everyone.