Saturday, September 18, 2010

Confusion and Aggression

Confession: Parker has been behaving in a way that does not make me happy.

In the last two days my sweet boy has had two aggressive incidents, which he provoked, that required us to leave play dates.  In both cases, we do not know the families very well, but I foresee, or foresaw, blossoming friendships that would stick around for a bit.  I hope that is still the case with both sets of people.

I'm brave enough to tell you that much. I am too upset to go into too much detail about the specifics of the events. I will say hitting was involved, well hitting was all that was involved.
This is new territory for me.  He is usually on the receiving end of aggressive behavior.  I have rescued him from quite a few bullying sessions.  I have dried his tears when his feelings were hurt.  I have kissed his boo-boos, told him he was okay and sent him back into the world to play.

I am taking this bad behavior personally.  Like a X caused Y situation.  We don't hit Parker and we don't hit each other- we don't even play hit.  I am puzzled by where this is coming from, seemingly, out of the blue. 

Kids are not always a product of their parents, I know that.  There is a degree of nurture and nature in all of us.  Toddlers go through stages and sometimes those stages involve testing new boundaries.  Part of it is he is way in to babies (read: anyone remotely smaller than him) and does not truly understand "gentle" yet.

As I caught him being a prick to these two kids, I immediately snatched him up, made him say sorry- which he did, thankfully- and marched him straight home. 

I told him he was not being nice and when you are not nice you don't get to play with your friends. 

We...discussed, as much as you can with a 2 year old...what nice was, how to be gentle and how if you want to have friends you have to be both nice and gentle. 

Then we painted quietly together with watercolors. 

I do not want to be one of those parents who seem uninterested in disciplining their children.  When he acts like a brat, I will remove him from the situation.  However, I am someone who lets things cut deep and then I let them fester.  I pick and pick and pick at the emotional wound until I am consumed by it.  Parker got over it once we kissed and made up.  The kids he hit probably got over it before P and I were even in the car.  The parents probably think I overreacted by leaving so quickly.

However, I'm sitting here on the couch on a Saturday night- hours after each incident- blogging because I just need to get this out.

Things I know:
I am a good mom. 
My son loves me. 
He is testing limits and seeing how much jerky behavior I will tolerate as the parent- which is damn near none.
Parker is still sweet.
This will probably happen again.
I need to do what feels right to me as Parker's mom.
I do not need to pull him out of pre-school.  (Yes, I actually considered this.)


Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Run Nikki Run

Confession: I am not a runner.

There are two categories of people in the arena of running. 
One group is made up of people who run. 
The other group is made up of runners.  These people carbo load and run regardless of shin splints and side cramps.  They have special running shoes that look like this:

I am a member of the first group and wear normal size 11- yes 11 Asics. I started running about a year ago in preparation of the Baltimore Marathon RELAY, which is a month away!!  I couldn't run for more than 5 minutes when I started.  I can now run 6 miles- 6.5 next week. 

When I mention I just went for a run or am planning on running later or am running in a race, I notice people's reaction.  Generally they smile, look me up and down, slyly.  They seem to be in a a state of amazement and disbelief.  Like -She? Runs?  Or, "Yea, uh-huh. It's like what a walk run, right?" 

Ok maybe I'm being meaner to myself than anyone else has ever been.  I never thought I was capable of running like I have been lately.  I still have a hard time believing my pedometer at the end of a run.

This past Sunday, I ran a 5K in 29:30 in the rain.  In the POURING rain.

The race it self was unorganized.  I was told things like, "They are meeting somewhere over there behind the portapots." The course was not marked very well either.

During the race my cotton capri's were so weighed down that they became pants.  Shiny pants.  When the race was over, I changed into dry clothes, but I was so wet I had to go buy another set of dry clothes on the way home.

I have three sisters.  They are all awesome.  My younger sister, Lynsey, ran this race with me so at the moment, she is the most awesomest.  The rain worked to her advantage though.  She did not register for the race, but no one could tell because everyone's race number was covered up by their rain coats.  Except me, I was not wearing a raincoat. 

Thankfully the course was wide open and no one seemed to give a flyin flip that she was running.  She is an All- American Athlete. She is good at any sport she does.  She is tall and thin and has a body that makes other girls hate her.  Instead of speeding ahead and blowing rain and gravel in everyone's face, she hung with me the whole race.  I usually run a 12 minute mile, but because I was trying not to hold her up too much, I ran a 10 minute mile.

I felt great post-run.  I felt even better and way tired after our celebratory beverage post race.

Thanks Lyns. 
Thanks self-confidence. 
Thanks to the poor quality photo, which aside from my race shirt and a cheapo ribbon that declares RUNNING! in gold lettering, is my only proof of running this race. 
The actual "high" quality 4x6 photo is $8.99 +shipping- meh.