I have a friend that is going through a very difficult time with his two year old right now. She is challenging them with every ounce of her being, and from the way it sounds, she is quite a determined child.
I've seen him on days where he hasn't slept, because she's not slept. I've seen him so frustrated and down on himself, that I've actually worried about him. And I've also listened to him as he's vented and tried to figure out what to do to fix the situation, and actually even questioned himself as a parent. He's wrong. He's a wonderful parent that is going through what we all go through...
As my friend has gone through his trials, it brought me back to when Tyler was two. It almost felt like I was sucked through a tunnel back in time to that year, 2006.
I remember the frustration. I remember the despair. I remember actually crying on the way home from work on Friday night because I knew I had the whole weekend ahead of me where I had to figure out "what to do" with this crazy two-year-old that wouldn't listen to anything I said, and would push every button I have. It was not a good time for me. Kyle and I fought constantly, and I actually thought that if this is what parenting is all about, then there is something wrong me me, because I hated it. Then I hated myself, because I hated being a parent.
It hit me one night as I was watching a SuperNanny show that I had DVR'd. Yes, of all people, the SuperNanny. She was in a house with three or four kids, if I remember right, that were driving their parents literally insane. The whole house was filled with screaming, mostly from the parents, and punishment after punishment after punishment. She sat back and watched as chaos ensued in this house, which had no love what-so-ever. By the time the parents put the kids to bed, they could've literally tied them down, because they were so spent, and frustrated, and beyond words. That was me.
Now - I knew this was a total extreme. My brain had just made a connection with something that I couldn't even relate to - but in his two year old brain, could he? I spent more time yelling and getting frustrated, putting him in time out and taking him to his room, than I spent actually trying to love him. When I finally figured out that he needed almost constant direction and attention (with help from the SuperNanny), it made sense. When I tried to ignore him, and go about my business, he would get in trouble - or I found that he just wanted to be with me. Get my attention in any way he could - either positive or negative. At that age, usually negative.
I got frustrated when he woke up at night, instead of trying to figure out why. I let him cry, and scream at times (when he was still in his crib), until I figured out that he was having nightmares. Then my heart almost broke. His vivid imagination had followed him into his bedroom, and when I picked him up one night and he literally clung to me in terror, we both cried. I rocked him back to sleep, and sometimes still have to do that to this day. Not really for a 5 year old (sometimes with Connor), but sometimes at night, he just needs a little bit more attention than I want to give him. I stop myself now, and realize what is really going on.
I need to remind myself every day, sometimes every hour, and sometimes on the weekends, every minute, that this child (and now Connor) is not trying to totally piss me off like he is, but just wants my attention, my direction, and most of all, my love.
Have patience. These times shall also pass. Keep in mind the big picture, the light at the end of the tunnel, and what you are really trying to accomplish. That slows me down almost every time...
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