Since leaving my ex, G, my oldest son has had a really tough time with the change. He turns 4 this year, and he’s only now coming out of major tantrums. Like, throw his body against me, tantrums. The, I-have-to-hold-him-or-else-he-might-hurt-himself tantrums. And the thing is, with older kids, people seem to assume your child is a spoiled brat who just wants attention. Maybe he is. Maybe I’m completely fucking up this motherhood gig. It’s kinda 50/50 at this point in the game.
This morning, M saw his little brother use a baby bottle that M used to use. That was it. Enough to set him off. He hasn’t had a tantrum like this in a long time. It had been so bad in the past, in fact, that I put him into play therapy in hopes of SOME relief. We were up to 2-3 major tantrums per week, and it was leaving me physically and emotionally exhausted. Pour on top of that a full time job, another child, and my ex and his outstanding ability to maintain a near constant state of prickishness, and you have me, just wanting things to settle down.
So, the little Jewish boy went into therapy. And for a while, it seemed to maybe help a bit. Eventually, we stopped going for financial reasons, and M seemed TOTALLY fine. He’s been doing great. But sometimes we have mornings like today, where everything should be great and perfect… and it’s a meltdown over nothing at all, which results in me wondering what I’m doing wrong. Sometimes, it feels like: there’s every other mom, who can pull together gorgeous garden parties for birthdays, and then there’s me, who… I’m lucky if I can get my hair brushed on the weekends.
On the bright side, I had chocolate ice cream tonight. So….. YAY healthy coping mechanisms(?)!