The Battles

Somehow, somewhere, I have gotten myself into a world of battles. Okay, so I know how –because once upon a time my parents explained the birds and the bees to me. And if I really wanted to track it back to where, I’m sure it’s possible, but that’s just too much information.

The battles are daily, sometimes hourly! They can range from something as simple as not wanting what was served at a meal, to wanting a different colored sippy cup. One thing that is consistent, is that they are never ending, repeating themselves with frequency.

My fathers’ advice is always to “Pick your Battles”. Easier said than done my friend. Our latest battle began over Mason not wanting to leave the doctors office. Not wanting to leave? -I know, tell me about it.

The truth is, he likes to play with the gross germ infected toys they keep in a corner of the waiting room. A battle, I chose not to engage in. But when it came time to leave the doctors office, all bets were off. Heading across the parking lot, he dropped to his knees. Literally, in the rain, dropped right down to his little knees and tried to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of the parking lot –insistent that we return to the gross, broken, germ infected toys.

I did what any self respecting mother (in uniform, none the less, in her own city) would do –I stood him up, and looked around to assess my audience before pulling him out of the roadway. All the while whispering threats to take away everything he holds sacred. In Masons case, that would be his Thomas blanket and Curious George stuffed animal.

But it didn’t end there. Oh no. If only it were that easy to avert disaster with a three year old. Not caring much about the threats made or my unpleasant –to say the least, demeanor, he pursued. He arched his back and screamed at the top of his lungs as I tried to force him in the car. It took all I had to not throw him in and slam the door.

By the time we headed back to whence we came prior to the doctors office, Mason and I both, were in tears. I am at a loss as to how to handle the 3 year old temper tantrums and I emotionally struggle with looking like a horses back end while fighting in a parking lot with a toddler. There is very little dignity in that. Trust me. So I guess, I should ask, anyone want a 3 year old? We are running a two for one special. Pick up my 3 year old today, and I will send my 2 year old at no extra charge. I will even supply you with all the diapers and wipes you need. Whaddya say?