As I sit here watching the Philadelphia Eagles first preseason game, I totally missed the Cowpunks preseason HOF game (oh, darn!) and I have Guns N Roses playing on youtube, I'm decompressing today.
Today has been a hard day on him. I keep blaming myself because we didn't go anywhere today. We didn't DO anything today. No one came over. Of course he was bored out of his skull and of course if you need stimulation you're going to do anything you can to get it.
This involves pushing the baby off the Train Table.
Now, this is a normal occurrence at our home. Big Brother pushes the baby (who is not a baby anymore, he's a toddler) when he gets frustrated. If the baby takes a toy, nabs food, is screaming or is just being a baby and invading his space.
I get it.
However, I hold him accountable for his actions. I tell him it's okay to be frustrated and it's okay to want to get his anger and frustration out but we can't hurt people. At. All.
This has been a long road for me, because I was brought up in a home that hits. I refuse to use the word 'spank' because, honestly, it's hitting.
I think hitting anyone is wrong. Full stop. Well, unless you're in the UFC or it's your kink, but I digress.
When I would get really frustrated or angry, I would want to hit. I wanted to vent that anger/frustration/whatever in the way I was TAUGHT. I'm breaking that cycle. I know it's wrong. And with my sons limitations, it's really fucking wrong to hit him. So we do a LOT of 'time in' time. This generally means I take him to a quiet area and we cuddle or I let him scream and cry and be angry in a safe space.
After the second time, it was nap time and he cuddled until he went to sleep. He had a great nap but then woke up insanely upset. Like sobbing hysterically. I ran to him and he was so upset that he woke up in a wet bed. I hugged him and told him it was okay. It was okay that he had an accident. These things happened. Then he started telling me about how he was sad and scared and we just hugged more and more and more.
He helped me bring the sheets down and as soon as he saw Daddy he lost it. He wanted to go outside, he was upset I wouldn't let him bring his Artoo onto the trampoline. Meltdown. Then he wanted Daddy to carry him, which he did until he couldn't any more and then he had another meltdown. Then he asked to go outside and we said of course he could go on the trampoline. Meltdown. He didn't want to go on the trampoline, he wanted to go on the swings. So Daddy took him outside to get on the swings. Meltdown. The swings were wet.
At this point I felt like I was in that blog that has photos of kids crying? Yeah. ANYTHING I did was wrong. It gets frustrating, but this world is frustrating to him and I have more coping mechanisms than he does. I can suck it up.
The current issue is he needs to eat dinner, but he wants to eat peanutbutter cups. DAMN ME AND MY CRAFTY FOODIE SELF. Aaaahhh!
Eventually he will eat his dinner and he can have a peanutbutter cup then. And how about that, he's eating his chicken. Yay. Go me.
That's what is so rewarding about all this for me, I keep telling myself to be patient. To give my son the grace that I wasn't afforded.
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