Simmer, Bubble and Boil

I write this post about the 3rd day of Advent in a bit of turmoil.

Tate was in a fantastic mood at pick up today.  In fact he was a happy camper this morning singing 'Jingle Bells' at the top of his lungs if for no other reason than he can!

We came home happily to find that the small train I had ordered from him had arrived.  The cars of the train are each one letter of his name and there's a caboose and an engine.  He was in heaven.

  

Dinner went well...he gobbled up his hot dog, yes hot dog (organic, nitrite and preservative free, but a hot dog nonetheless), milk, Happy Tot pouch and broccoli.  And yes he ate the broccoli because I told him he could have a popsicle.  And yes I've been doing that for about a week.  I had been trying this whole don't make food a battle, don't make vegetables out to be the bad guy, don't bribe with food business for months.  And he rarely ate a vegetable unless he was at school with Ms. Laura.  This works.  He happily eats his veggies, all of them.  And he gets a mini, coconut milk, chocolate popsicle with 1 gram of sugar, no added sugar, no artificial sweeteners, no added much of anything.  There are 6 grams of fat, but he eats such a clean healthy diet regularly that I'm not going to worry about 6 grams of fat for my 3 year old.  This business of how to get kids to eat this, not that blah blah blah is not my game.  He's a kid.  He's a human.  Yes food is sustenance, but I see no problem with a little joy in eating.  I'm ever mindful because for me food is comfort, and I don't use food as comfort for him.  If he does something I need him to do and I think he deserves a treat he gets a book or a toy or a simple hug from me.  He got a big shot on Friday...he got a big hug from Mommy and a cool band-aid.  No milkshake, no smoothie...hugs.  Now though I wonder if buying things sets him up for some sort of money is to be spent, rewards are great nonsense.

I don't have time to worry about that.  When he's old enough to understand I will change the rules.  Then he will have to eat his broccoli and green beans no matter what.  That's my plan.  Today.  If I run out of popsicles we'll see.  However, I am telling him that broccoli tastes good and he always agrees.  I think next week I'll just give him the broccoli before the rest of his meal and see how that goes.  Don't you love it when I write as I think.

Anyway...I started feeling like a grump.  A total grump.  For no good reason other than my hormones are starting to be completely out of whack I think.  My period has been lasting 7-8 days and sometimes I go 21 days between periods...which SUCKS! and sometimes I go 26-28 days.  And goodness it's rough.  And I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating right now and I'm moody as can be.  And I can feel it coming on.  It's like I can feel the bubbling down inside and it just starts to explode.

Poor Tate.

Sadly I will never be able to do hormone therapy because I had a blood clot about 9 years ago.

Poor Tate.

I went on upstairs to get his bath ready and asked him to come up in one minute.  As always he happily came up singing and still thrilled with his 'alphabet' train.  Pottied and into the tub he went.

I simmered away.

I forgot to give him his meds.  I had to go back downstairs.  Did I mention it's over 80 degrees in this hellhole I call a home town.  Therefore my house is warm.  And I'm a slug these days I need to lose weight so badly.  And now I have to walk back downstairs and back UP.  Sigh.

I started to bubble.

I huff and puff my way back upstairs and Tate is having fun in the tub. I get him his meds and bathe him.  I lean over to let the water out.  He looks up at me and starts splashing with his feet...this is behavior that is a definite no, and he knows it.  I told him calmly to stop.  He looks down, looks me right in the eye and splashes so much water with his hands he about drenches my left side.

I burst into flames.

I just stared at him and lost it.

And I should have walked away.

I should have simply walked away.

 And it so wasn't about the splashing.  Water dries.  I was fine.  It was the open definance.  The looking me straight in the eye and doing what he knew he wasn't supposed to do!  For about 2 seconds I searched my brain for what would impress upon him that this was unacceptable.  What could I take away that would make him understand.  What punishment would he 'get?'

And honestly short of telling him he couldn't have an Advent book there's not much.  It was already almost bedtime.  He's already not allowed tv on school days.  He loves brushing his teeth.  He wouldn't care if he could only have one story because he was going to get to open the Advent book.  Telling him he couldn't play with his trains in the morning would have no immediate effect...the splashing wouldn't even be a blip on his radar in 12 hours.  
Because I don't want to take away the Advent celebration.  That is precious and meaningful.  And I suppose that would make my point, but for me we do that no matter what because that's about someone else, not us.

So, my hand shot out.  For the second time.  And I hate myself.  And I know it didn't hurt because he didn't even cry at first.  He was just shocked.  We both stared at each other.  Then he cried when he saw how upset I was.  He was upset and horrified and just stared at me as I got the towels ready to get him out of the tub.

And as quick as he started crying, he stopped.  Once he was out of the tub and getting dressed he was fine.  Laughing with me.  Sigh.

I asked him to come stand with me while I sincerely apologized and told him I loved him.  He said ok and told me to come on, let's go in the bedroom.

He was super excited about this, the 3rd day of Advent.  

 My child.  The face and embodiment of forgiveness.  I am so not worthy.

Tonight I'll be on my knees in prayer.  Praying for forgiveness.  Praying for patience.  Praying for worthiness.