Post-a-holic

I know you all can't get enough of me and my exciting life, and are dying to read about all my latest adventures. Ok, not really. Actually this next post is just so I remember in the future, because it's funny. Here are three happenings in my life as a mother of a little boy named Boston.

So the last week I've been trying really hard to speak spanish to Boston. The first couple days he didn't respond and just kind of looked at me. But the last three days he's caught on that I'm speaking a different language and he gets so mad! (I'm currently trying to get a video of it and will post it as soon as I do.)
As soon as I start speaking even one spanish word he starts SCREAMING "NOOO!!!" Then when I switch back to english he calms down. I'm having so much fun with it. It's so hard not to burst out laughing when he's so mad. But I figure if I keep speaking it to him and Maddie then he'll understand more and not be so frustrated and join in my speaking spanish with me. I was reading him a story last night and a couple pages in it dawned on him I was reading it in spanish and he jumped up and put his hand over my mouth. "No mommy!" He kept it there until I spoke English. And the minute I would switch back, he would put his hand over my mouth again and scream NO. At one point he had one hand over my mouth and the other over my eyes, as if that could stop me from speaking spanish. lol.

He's also picking up words like crazy lately. I mean like 10 new words a day. So last night he was laying on my bed when he lifted up his legs high in the air and said, very clearly, "Da Butt" while pointing to his derrière. Chris and I just looked at him and said "what?" he pointed and said "Da Butt". Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not offended by the word Butt at all. In fact, I don't think I've even ever given it a second thought. But for some reason it sounds like a bad word coming from my two year old...not sure how I feel about this.

So lately I've been feeling like it's time to start really creating good gospel habits at home like daily family prayer and family scripture. So last night we wrestled him into the living room and corralled him in. We sang a song, read a quick scripture about Jesus, and said a family prayer. We made it through, but barely. I'm determined to make this a habit in our family, so tonight before Chris went to bed we all gathered together for a second attempt. Boston was NOT having it tonight. After giving up on negotiating with him to join us, I grabbed him and held him in my lap. I was hoping to calm him down and set a spiritual kind of mood so we started by singing "I am a Child of God." But Chris was the only one who could get through it. Mary and I burst out laughing when we got to the line "has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear." Why did we burst out laughing? Well because myself, being the kind and loving parent that I am, was literally fighting with my two year old to keep him on my lap while he was kicking and thrashing and screaming "I want go Bed!" But I was determined. Yes he missed nap time, and yes he hadn't eaten anything almsot all day (that story is next) but I was, and am, determined to have family prayer and scripture. So, while still fighting Boston with one hand I opened to Mosiah 2:17. And read in a loud, voice, "Behold..." I was practically shouting over Boston. Great setting for the spirit to be felt huh? This was quickly becoming a traumatic experience for Boston as our battle of wills took place. Boston changed his tune from "I want go bed" to "I want Daddy" (Daddy is always the hero and the good guy for whom Boston will behave like an angel.) I handed Chris's son to him, and Boston was still shuddering with sobs but calmed down enough that we could get through a quick prayer. I'm determined to make daily family prayer and scripture and habit in this family...even if it means future therapy sessions for my kids apparently. Would you call it quits after day two?

This is the last one:
Tonight I made meatloaf and baked potatoes for dinner. I made Boston a little plate and was really hoping he'd eat even a couple bites since I topped it with his favorite food, cheese. He wanted no part of it, but I also am trying to get in the habit of family dinners, at the kitchen table. After I wrestled him into his high chair and he was locked in, he was thrashing all around and I could tell this wasn't going to go well. I quickly ate my dinner while he and Maddie were screaming and then I focused on Boston. He wanted to go outside and roll his car down the driveway, but I told him he couldn't until he had one bite. Just ONE TEENY TINY BITE. Again he threw a fit. Screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth kind of tantrum that you only hear about in horror parent stories (are you seeing a trend here?) In fact, it was such a spectacular tantrum that even Maddie stopped crying and just watched him until she fell asleep. (Not sure how you fall asleep with someone screaming like they're about to die.)
I sat trying to get him to take one bite as he cried. Then He said he wanted cheese. I told him he could have a slice of cheese if he took just one little bite. Nope. Instead he waited until my attention was on something else and he grabbed the slice of cheese I had to bribe him out of my hand and tried to eat it as quick as he could. But this mama is too quick for that. I grabbed the cheese out of his little hand and said for the thousandth time, "If you take this one bite, you can have the slice of cheese." He cried and screamed and thrashed for another 5 minutes and I just sat calmly explaining to him his choices. After a couple more attempts to grab the cheese slice out of my hand he realized he'd have to switch tactics. What does he do? He calls for his daddy. "I want daddy" he says. "If daddy helps you will you eat?" I asked patiently. "I want daddy." He cries as he takes the fork of food he's refused to eat out of my hand and hands it lovingly to his dad. I watch, in only semi-shock, as he opens his mouth wide to let his dad put the one bite I had tried to get him to eat for over 30 minutes into his mouth. As soon as he gets it in his mouth Chris and I both say "good job!" and Chris tells him he can have the piece of cheese. I hand Boston the cheese, and as soon as it is in his possession, he gags on the food, and spits it out dramatically wiping his tongue off with his hand as if it had been poison. Great. Then before Chris and I could realize his plan he shoved the cheese in his mouth and was happy. He outsmarted us. We were defeated by a two year old, and we knew it. We burst out laughing. This kid of ours.

These weren't the only tantrums that he threw today. Maybe tomorrow I'll keep a tally of some sort. If I kept one today I would say there were easily 10 full on tantrums. Ever since Maddie came along my sweet little buddy has disappeared. I still adore him, but he's a terror. Funny, but a terror. Even his nursery leader said he's been more "aggressive" with the other kids lately. Great, he's THAT kid.

I may have waited too long to set good habits and teach consequences. But two isn't too late...right? I'm not doomed to have a terror child for the rest of my days right? All these battles will eventually work out and he'll be grateful for me as his mom right?
I sure hope so.