My husband is out of town, so it's just me and my son this weekend. So far, not so good.
It started when my son decided he wanted to do a craft project at 6:30 a.m.
Him: You have TWO choices: make glitter butterflies or build a LEGO house.
Me: I need coffee. I can't do anything until I've had breakfast and coffee.
Him: That isn't one of the choices.
Me: I'll help you with a craft after I've had breakfast and coffee.
Him: NOT ONE OF THE CHOICES.
At which point I retreated to the bedroom, put a pillow over my head, and said I was feeling sick. Then I stared at the ceiling and thought about how this "You have X choices" thing his teacher is using to get her students to do stuff is totally backfiring.
Then my friend (a former college golfer) texted me, offering to give my son the golf lessons he's been asking for. Great! I'm pumped, he's pumped, we have a cheap club from Goodwill, we're ready. We meet my friend at the park. My son takes his first aim at the tennis ball she's provided to help him get used to swinging. He misses.
Cue a temper tantrum that could put one of John McEnroe's rants to shame. He threw a golf club, marched around, screamed, said he was DONE. I suppose we should have gone home right then and there, but my friend had driven a ways to meet us, and we'd had to drive a decent distance, too, so we stuck around and I practiced hitting tennis balls while Cranky McGee wandered around muttering angrily to himself.
Later, we went to the bookstore. He asked for a cookie. Conversation:
Him: Mommy, I am really hungry. I need a snack.
Me: I brought grapes and Cheerios.
Him: But I don't want those! Here are your three choices. Points at three different cookies, each the size of his head if not larger.
Me: No cookies today.
Him: YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO THE CHOICES!!!
Me: This is causing too much drama. We're leaving.
At which point he REALLY let it rip, and the entire store and parking lot got an earful until I had him packed up into his carseat.
Five minutes from home, he fell asleep. He's still sleeping.
Maybe he misses my husband. Maybe he's exceptionally tired. I don't know, but he's not usually this volatile. He's a lot like I was when I was little, so I'm trying to be sensitive while still setting boundaries and expectations.
It's just hard sometimes. Parenting is not easy and a lot of times it's not particularly fun. I often feel like I have no idea what I'm doing, and that even though I'm trying my best, it isn't good enough.