Last week was hard.
I don't know what happened to my sweet, little three year old, but he morphed into a monster last week.
He tromped around the house as loudly as he could with his arms set in 90 degree angles and his face smooshed up into a grimace. He was angry about EVERYTHING.
No! He did not want to go to the toilet!
No! He did not want to wash his hands after he used the toilet and how dare I ask him!
No! He did not want to eat those grapes that he'd asked for!
No! He did not want to say the prayer!
All of this and it was only 7:00 am...
And on and on and on.
On Wednesday I remembered that I could drop any child under the age of 18 off at any police department or fire station and they wouldn't ask any questions.
I wondered if they would just keep him for a few hours.
The tantrums, the hands firmly pressed over each ear to block out my instructions and reprimands, the hateful yelling, it all seemed to be too much.
I had tried all of my tricks--diversion, positive feedback for good actions, calm responses to meltdowns, more one on one attention, but none of it seemed to change him or me. Did I also mention Eli was throwing up multiple times a day from Wednesday through Saturday and yuckiness wasn't just coming out of his mouth. It all felt to be too much.
I don't know what changed, but yesterday he was back to himself.
By that I mean my little boy who loves to impress me.
My little man who is sensitive to everyone in our family and reminds me that he is not just mine, but also daddy's and Ryanna's and Eli's.
My friend who tells me that he loves me when he gives me kisses and tight hugs.
My little boy who is so passionate and trying to learn who he is while dealing with the frustration of not being able to communicate what he wants in all situations.
My three year old who sees his limitless potential at being a "rock star and a dancing rock star who plays the guitar" (his words this morning about his future career) but still has to deal with living under the house rules.
I'm thrilled that he's back to being sweet. He still has meltdowns, but it's under control. The whole situation helped me to remember that I too am still a work in progress. I still throw fits when Owen gets out of control. Granted, I don't throw my fits in a physical way, but I do express my frustration at night to my husband. I bemoan my terrible day and how grating it was. But, I all the while, am being taught and instructed on patience. While I may not like it, I need it. I need to take more time to stop and enjoy what's going on around me and less time worrying about the to dos. I need to spend more time in awe of children's stories and less time checking my email. While Owen is learning exactly who he is and what he needs to do to improve, I too am going through the same process. I hope that I can be as patient with Owen as I want God and my friends and family to be with me.
The words of this song touch me and fit the situation so perfectly:
God gave us families to help us become what he wants us to be.
This is how He shares His love. For the family is of God.
I couldn't have said it better myself.