Thursday, February 9, 2012

My Do It!

My children's independence is a great source of pride. Oh, look! I'll say. She just marches right in there and doesn't look back! Or, I've never had to teach them to do it, they just do it! Independence is a hallmark of good parenting. Either that or complete neglect, but I'd like to think it's the former. "My do it!" has been the battle cry of all my children.

But sometimes - sometimes I just want to tell them to let me do it.

Sometimes, I don't have half an hour for you to fiddly fart around with your buckle. Just sit your ass down and let me buckle it and let's go. I have shit to do.

Henry, sensing that his two year birthday is upcoming, has decided to adopt the WAYS OF TWO a little early. For those of you not familiar with the WAYS OF TWO, let me explain: It means your kid becomes a total asshole about ridiculous things. Mostly, things to do with independence. Independent dressing, independent car seat getting into, independent eating. It means that if you dare to take the wrapper off a cupcake, you are risking a meltdown of epic proportions.

It means that you have to take the cheese stick out of the fridge, hide it behind your back, take the wrapper off, then re-wrap it before you hand it to your child to "unwrap".

It means that he will walk around with his shoes on the wrong feet, because he likes them that way! It feels good!

It means that there is nothing too heavy for him to lift, or too tall for him to climb, or to difficult for him to figure out. He is TWO, and you can not fuck with TWO. You know nothing, Parent! I am TWO!

Today, as we were running late to drop Julia at preschool, and I dared to pick him up to put him in his car seat, he threw a tantrum. I'm dodging head butts and trying to use my elbow to fold him down at the waist (like a stroller, or an ironing board, children bend if you apply pressure in the right places), and he is screaming and kicking his legs. Julia, who is calmly sitting in her seat waiting, rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath, "Kids."

The wisdom of five.

16 comments:

  1. Priceless. Captures the whole damn thing.

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  2. Amen! I got a little bit sweaty just reading this. There's really nothing in this world like wrestling with a person one third your size while simultaneously exposing your ass crack to the world at large. My mom said that they start to act like that again at about age 14, so we've got that to look forward to.

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    1. I don't think I can wrestle a 14 year old. Katie is only 11 and can almost take me.

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  3. I can, in fact, verify the truth of the fourteen year-old thing. He lives to thwart my intentions. I still prefer this to the two year-old stage, though, because the accompanying argumentation is just more interesting.

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    1. Right? They can rely on cute AND funny, instead of just cute!

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  4. For me it wasn't two. It was three. Three for both of my kids just about did me in. Maybe they were late bloomers!

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    1. Not surprisingly as Kyra's doppleganger, but Julia at 3 was very intense. VERY intense.

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  5. Fortunately I have long forgotten what my two year olds were like. However I have a two year old grandson and he is every bit like you described. Luckily he cute and sweet.

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    1. They're all cute and sweet, it's their survival mechanism, lol.

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  6. Ah-hem...I have a 26 year old who apparently got stuck in the WAYS OF TWO funnel cloud of life. Except she did pause at the I AM 5 cycle long enough to master the EYEROLL and as she twirled by the I AM TEENAGER, HEAR ME ROAR phase she picked up the "Lord haven't I suffered enough with these Parents" *sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh* that lasts 27 minutes and is accompanied by the eyeroll. All done while screaming, kicking and pitching a hissy fit in general....ANYONE LOOKING TO ADOPT A FULLY GROWN PERSON?? Free to good home....

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    1. Just give -me- four months. I'll be in my I AM TEENAGER, HEAR ME ROAR stage.

      Sounds fun. Do I get to eat babies?

      -Motaki, the twelve-year-old Aspiring Falconer

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    2. oh no, Grammy. If it's any comfort, 30 was a big turning point for my youngest brother, who was stuck there, too. If she finally outgrows it, it looks like Motaki mit be looking for a family. ;)

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  7. This brought back a visceral memory of walking home from the grocery store with Daughter-Only when she was about 2 1/2. She didn't want to sit in the stroller, but refused to hold my hand (near the street) so I had to pick her up, inciting a fit much like the one you describe above. I flipped her up over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes then proceeded to fold the umbrella stroller with one hand and my feet (somehow) and then carry stroller, groceries and child (still slung over my shoulder screaming like a loon) the rest of the way home. Ah, good times, good times.

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    1. And THAT reminded me of hauling a screaming 5 year old over my shoulder down the street over a popsicle. Oh, they are a blessing.

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