Thursday, 15 March 2012

How things change... and stay the same

I was reading a personal diary entry of the time just after Baby Boy was born. It read "I won't ever direct harsh words to him or raise my voice..." (!) ... how I howled!
I know the context that I wrote this in - they say hormones do funny things to you, they're not wrong. Those heady babymoon days when you are basking in the praise of all who know you, what a beautiful bundle of joy you have created. He is just so... perfect. I'm a sentimental thing at heart and my elaborate scrap booking addiction sees books peppered with such saccharine drivel. I know I truly meant it at the time, I remember feeling a huge responsibility for not ruining him.
As a veteran parent of all of four years I realise now that actually not reprimanding him regularly would be more harmful. What a minefield!
I tell you this amidst the activity that occurred in this household yesterday. I asked The Boy to put his shoes on like a broken record. "Please, just put your shoes on. We need to go!". In the end, he gave me a look and flung his slipper off his foot... it smacked me in the forehead. "Bed!" followed by breaking his heart distress. He almost immediately reappeared on the stairs sobbing. "'m...sorry." I actually felt my heart crumple in my chest. Oh, my Baby Boy.
We made up, hugged it out and I bid him once again to go and don his footwear.
My mistake was to multi-task something else into the mix and upon returning found him crashing his digger into a train, unshod.
We have a cupboard under the stairs. It has untold debris in it and the legacy of a thousand silent screams.
This morning my harsh words included: "Get off my hair" "Don't eat bogeys" and "Stop playing with yourself" all before 9am!

Did I tell you he's perfect. He is Goddammnit.