I got an email from Baba’s soccer coach today, he thanked me for communicating so well with him and complimented me on how well I juggled everything. I don’t really know what he was talking about. Yes Baba showed up on time to all her games and practices….mostly. Some of those 7:15am show times were more like 7:25am show times. And Baba showed up dressed properly. So kudos to me. I won’t mention that she’s the most self-sufficient of my children and that Mac showed up to one of his games wearing two left shoes….different sized shoes. Why shatter the illusion?
It’s been yet another extremely frustrating day. X-Man can control himself when it comes to the potty, he runs around diaper and accident free. Well mostly. He sat on the potty for twenty minutes this morning. I knew he needed to go. I saw him drip and then work hard at control. I gave it all I could, but Cinco started yelling for me and fractions won’t divide themselves so off the the ignored children I went. So off he got. He took off running and before I could get his diaper on him, he peed on my new finished hard wood floor. I think he hates me.
Although this process hasn’t been easy on him. He has been denied all candy and cookies. And he has chosen to deny himself. But it is crushing his soul. I caught him climbing into the oven today. I guess if he can’t wear a diaper, life’s just not worth living or something. He was outraged and horrified that there were severe consequences to his actions. He kept protesting “No phhphh (his sound for hot) MA!” Oh ok then. He also has been denied the pleasure of watering the kitchen floor, since I locked the water dispenser on the fridge. It’s all good though, he’s just taken to turning on the dishwasher. Which would almost be convenient, but he doesn’t use soap and likes to empty out all the dishes he can reach first. And somehow Cinco always manages to discover them before I do. I’m beginning to remember why I homeschooled at the kitchen table and not in a dedicated room.
Gestated Cinco and X-Man have really been ganging up on me this last week. It started at Church on Sunday. Cinco was giving amens most loudly and had to be ushered out. X-Man was desperate to come with me. I let him, knowing that the whole two babies one mom ratio wasn’t in my favor, but I wanted him to feel like an important person, one who didn’t need to fight for mom’s attention. And therefore would use the potty because he didn’t need to use diaper changes as a time for maternal interaction. (The father figure says I overthink things. I say I change too many diapers). X-Man hung out quietly for a while. He sat sweetly and watch a little boy behind him drive toy cars. The boy offered X-Man one, and he played quietly. But soon I needed to return to the father figure, Cinco was getting more agitated and wanted to take a walk. So I told X-Man it was time to go. X-Man knew what that meant. He grabbed the car and headed out the door, which he opened himself, and took off running. I made him give back the car. And so the rage began.
I dragged a bellowing X-Man out to the vestibule. He had gone completely limp. I set Cinco down on the floor to restrain the thrashing toddler. Cinco saw the leaves that had been tracked in on the floor and was thrilled. X-Man was not silent. A gentleman offered to hold Cinco for me. This gentleman was my brother’s future father in law, and someone I’ve known for decades, so I was comfortable letting him hold my little girl. X-Man questioned the wisdom of this decision. Well, questioned is a rather gentle term. He proceeded to filibuster this choice loudly and physically. He lunged towards Cinco bellowing “No my baby, baby, baby.” He clearly forgot about the lost car and was convinced I had just handed off his sister to some person. And most likely he was next. Or something. The father figure showed up, annoyed at the noise that could be heard church wide, I was annoyed that the father figure had taken so long to show up. X-Man began screaming at his father “mama baby baby no!” His father took Cinco and X-Man’s panic subsided.
But it returned today. As I picked up my three older children from class, X-Man decided that it was just too much to walk, and that I should carry him, along with Cinco. Unlike Gestated Cinco, X-Man is heavy and completely uninterested in assisting me in holding him up. I was lugging over fifty pounds of child towards the classroom and found a friend of mine. I handed her Cinco. And I headed to the bathroom with X-Man.
Hysteria city. X-Man was throwing himself against the door. I thought this was a freak out based upon the thought that I might make him use the potty again. Because that’s pretty much his reaction. But when I encountered my friend with Gestated Cinco all became clear. X-Man lunged towards his sister, grabbed her arms and pulled her back to me. The boy is strong! He then frowned upon both myself and my friend. You would think if it was this important that I hold his sister, he might want to help out and get down. But no. I was back to holding nearly sixty pounds of offspring.
When the father figure heard he decided to have X-Man teach a workshop to Mac on how to react when he sees his sisters with boys.