Cryin' in the shower

It's going to be one of those nights, that when I take a shower, I cry and cry and cry.  I was originally only going to talk about Brendan and his development and keep track of it on this blog, but I was naive and know that I need this outlet for EVERYTHING involving Brendan and my life.

I didn't think B was going to be so awful at 15 1/2 months (and yet so awesome at the same time).  He has become defiant overnight.  Changing his diaper is a nightmare.  He kicks so violently when trying to take off his shorts and diaper and while trying to put a diaper back on.  It's ridiculous.  I feel like I've tried every reaction to it...I've yelled (and then gotten mad at myself for yelling), I've ignored it completely (all the while getting bruises from being kicked so hard), I've shown him how it hurts mommy and it makes me sad (bring on the fake tears...that actually worked a few times).  I give up.  I just don't know what to do and that behavior is just the tip of the iceberg.  I thought I had some time until the "terrible twos"!!!  EVERYTHING is a major struggle.  When it's finally time for Charlie to get up (did I mention I friggin' hate him on midnights?!?!), it's dinner time and my patience has worn VERY thin.  I remind myself all day that I was able to keep my patience (98% of the time, except when pregnant) with 150 different kids each day while teaching, so I should be able to keep my patience with one tiny child.  Brendan loves to throw himself on the floor, and hitting his head on our hardwood floors, when upset and not getting his way.  I do love that I'm "tough" and can outride his tantrums, letting him be while he has them.  That's not the problem.  Well, not a problem when I'm just cooking dinner or doing something else around the house, but when I actually NEED him to get something done and accomplished and he doesn't cooperate, that's a different story.  After dinner today I decided to take him for a long walk in the stroller and when we got back we'd play with his outside toys.  I told him to get his shoes, which he did, but sitting him on the bench to get them on was a nightmare.  Screaming, arching, flailing, and kicking ensued.  For shoes!  Shoes!

I know that everything at this point is a test.  He's testing his limits, exploring cause and effect, I get that. But an entire day of it.  Day after day. (literally)  I. AM. GOING. NUTS.  I feel like a failure.  I feel awful if I do lose my temper and shout at him.  I feel awful that I WANT to spank him.  I feel overwhelmed.  And I only have one child!  What happens with two!?  Should we even have a second child?!  I can't bank on the fact that the second one would be more mellow.

Brendan didn't smile at me once during his bath tonight.  I feel like he hates me or is at least mad at me for not being a better mom to him.

Brendan is amazing for so many reasons too.  He loves exploring (we knew the name would fit the lil' guy we hadn't met yet), he loves to smile.  We get to share knowing looks while we eat together, just between mom and Brendan.  He LOVES to read.  He dances every time he hears music, even if it's a 10 second jingle on a commercial.  He's independent (good and bad).  He's observant.  He likes to hug his stuffed panda and bunny and then have me hug them too.  He sings while in his crib when he's trying to fall asleep.  I could go on and on.  I just needed a few quick reminders as to why I do this every day; why I love him so much.  I need to remind myself that if this is the worst I get from Brendan, then I am truly lucky (it can just be so hard sometimes though).  I have friends who lost their 9-month-old son last summer and I know others who are raising children who have illnesses or disorders that are beyond trying.

It's not just Brendan that's been overwhelming me.  I feel like our basement is never going to be finished, which means our garage is in a state of disarray, along with the rest of the house.  I feel like I should be reading parenting books (to give me some insight), or organizing, or cleaning, or weeding.  OR ANYTHING.  But all I feel like doing after days like today, is sitting and crying and drinking some wine.  I hate that I'm such a 'Type A' person who has so many real touches of OCD.

This is a much longer post than I intended, but I just kept writing.  It's probably disjointed and rambling and I don't really care.  Even though the English teacher in me wants to go back and proofread it, I'm not going to.  And yes, I ended my sentence with a preposition.  Ha!