People warned me, but I didn’t listen. It wasn’t going to happen to us anyway so why did it matter? My son was different. There was no way my sweet, kind, angelic baby boy was going to turn terrible when he turned two. It just wasn’t going to happen, and I truly felt sorry for all those other parents out there who weren’t blessed with an angel like I was… And then… it happened. My son turned two.
So what happened exactly you ask? Well… I’m still not sure. I think I’m still in shock. Suddenly, as if overnight, my son has been possessed by some sort of rage demon. If I look at him the wrong way, rage. If he asks me to play with him but then I touch one of the toys, to you know, play with him, rage. Try to take him somewhere, rage. Don’t take him anywhere, rage. The common theme here you may have noticed is rage.
Now I’ll be honest with you, I wasn’t meant to be a stay at home mom on the best of days. Don’t get me wrong, I love my son, but spending 24/7 with him is just not my idea of a good time. Unfortunately, just when I was getting back into the swing of things with my job after my maternity leave, I was laid off. Now again, I don’t want to sound ungrateful because the time off with him has for the most part been a blessing. Until he turned two. Just kidding. But really.
Sometimes I lay in bed at night, after a particularly challenging day, feeling defeated, and I just want to cry. Cry from exhaustion and frustration but mostly cry because I feel like I’m mourning the loss of the sweet baby stage to be replaced by whatever madness this is. I know it’s just a phase and it’ll pass and not all days are horrible but MAN is it hard. So in solidarity with all the other parents dealing with toddlers in the varying stages of chaos, whether it be the terrible twos, the troublesome threes, the frightful fours or the frustrating fives… we got this! Right??? We’re going to be ok! Aren’t we?? Someone tell me it’s going to be ok…