After 10 months of radio silence, I decided it was time to stop being such a tight ass and get MB back online. Exercise and writing are two things I do to remain sane, and I’ve been hugely inconsistent with both recently so it feels like things have fallen in the shitter a bit.
On that note I should probably say now if you’re not familiar with my writing, swearing and oversharing are two things I do more than is ever necessary. So if profanity and not wanting to know things like I once farted mid-smear aren’t your bag, we probably want to part ways now. For the rest of you used to such revelations and the potty mouth, all I’ll say is there’s plenty more where that came from.
The resurrection of Mother Bluffer marks Rex’s 28th month in this world, which is no coincidence…
(I’ll just leave that there for a second.)
What the actual fuck?
After you’ve spent nine months cooking up your kid, delivering them safely into the world, no doubt ruining various bodily parts/functions along the way, and two years of dedicating every waking moment to them, at what point was it decided that a fair next ‘phase’ would be them acting like total assholes on a daily basis?
Me: Rex, would you like pasta for tea?
Me: Yes what?
Rex: Yes (very long pause). Please.
Me: (presents him with homemade spag bol but holds on to it long enough for a thank you)
Rex: (another very long pause) Thank you.
Me: Would you like some juice with that?
Me: (sighs) Yes what?
Rex: Yes… please.
I leave the room for a whole of about 20 seconds to get him a glass of water, return to an empty bowl and spaghetti all over the table.
Rex: I want beans on toast
The above is an example of the daily defiance, control, call it whatever the fuck you want I’m dealing with at the moment. And there are days when I feel like my son’s sole purpose in life is to break my very soul.
I know the right thing to do is remain calm, and before reacting, remember that he is only two and doesn’t understand or know how to process a lot of his emotions. But I want to meet anyone who manages to do this after a day of relentless ‘button pressing’. You would literally need to be a saint, and even then I think it make them question their vocation. So as much as I try to not ask my child why he’s being so fucking unreasonable, I also find myself so frustrated and exhausted by his daily meltdowns that hurling myself through the nearest window would be preferable to dealing with it.
So anyway, as you can see, the next ‘phase’ (genuinely never hated a word more) in my ‘I haven’t a fucking clue what I’m doing’ parenting world’ is very much upon me. And while I wish I could say MB has been set up as a small way to make the world better, it’s really as a way for me to hopefully get some much-needed wisdom on parenting a wonderful, ‘spirited’ toddler while juggling full-time work and holding down an adult relationship that consists of more than discussing how many successful craps were made on the potty each day. Answers on a postcard please.
Welcome to Mother Bluffer, take (a) two (year old).