Which came first, the bad mommy or the whiney Parker?
I am NEVER moving again. I STILL do not have my credit card or debit card- thank you Bank of America. (I am in the process of switching banks.)
Verizon is being difficult about setting up a landline.
The Comcast guy who came to install our cable could not bury the line so our cable cord is running up the length of our driveway- ABOVE ground. He also told me he mounts flat screen TV's on the side (stop telling me about your personal life weirdo) and he would hang ours - 3 of them- for $250. INSANE.
I have been on the phone for the better part of each day since we moved into this new house.
NEVER moving again.
Between all the phone volley sessions, unpacking and laundry- yes I even have to do laundry in my new house- I have not been the happy go lucky mommy I usually am (read: not usually, but strive to be).
Left to his own devices, Parker has taken up a new hobby- whining. Among the words he knows and uses regularly is the word "this". It is usually mixed in with a little bit of "snack snack" followed a lot- a lot- of whining.
Learn to speak kid. I will give you whatever you want if it will make you stop THAT.
Yesterday, I hit an all time low. Since this blog is about confessions- here goes.
Pfunk knows the sign for all done. When he is eating and does this sign, I always make him take one more bite. I do this for a few reasons- 1. I want to establish and maintain my control. 2. I don't think he really knows when he is full and therefore done eating verse being bored and done eating. 3. It's usually not a big deal because I ALWAYS do it.
Flash to lunch time yesterday, one more bite was a major deal. He said, "no." I tried all my tricks.
I said, "Ok, I'm going to starting cleaning up. You can get up after you have one more bite."
He lost his shit. Crying. Screaming. That desperate hiccup-like breathing.
I stomp over- in my best (or worst) mommy is mad- fashion. I pull the tray off his chair and say, "Fine. But I need you to leave me alone for a little bit."
No need to call CPS- we were both in the kitchen and the new house is very open and empty rendering it mostly childproof.
As I stood at the sink doing dishes, I can hear his wailing and whining loud and clear, so I glance over. My sweetP is crouched down- still sobbing- peering at me from the space created between the chair and table. It sort of looked like a Normal Rockwell meets Mommy Dearest type of scene.
In what can only be described as mean, I said, "I can see you. Mommy needs a minute away from you and your whining."
I swear, P turned, walked down the hall and into a room that is occupied by a sole four and a half foot book shelf. On the top two shelves there are books, the bottom three shelves are either bare or have some of his toys on them.
I heard him pull out a toy and play with it for a few seconds. Then nothing.
Worried, I looked up. He was back in the kitchen. Not whining. Not crying. Just sweetly, silently watching me.
I picked him up and promised to stop yelling if he stopped whining. (what?) Parker looked at me and said, "yes."
He is a very sweet forgiving monkey. I am very lucky.