“They roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws”
That about sums it up. While his name was partly inspired by Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are (also inspired by Max Fisher in Rushmore), he’s more of a Wild Thing than a Max and it’s not cute. At. All. Each day there is struggle between the two of us. It can start first thing in the morning when I get him out of his crib and attempt to change his poop diaper while he kicks, screams, cries, throat kicks, red in the face screams, slaps me. Now, I’m not a patient person so this kind of abuse -by-toddler is really hard for me to tolerate for too long. There have been many mornings where I’ll leave him diaperless in his room while I go make my coffee because I just can’t. After he settles down and after another minor struggle of getting a new diaper on, we have breakfast. This is where Battle #2 begins. He’ll tell me he’s done (via signing) then throw a fit when I try to clean him up and get him out. And there are many other Mom vs. Max battles that are fought throughout the day. It’s really, really shitty.I’m sure some of you are like Relax, you have no idea how good you have it now. Just wait til he’s ____! Or I’m sure some of you are all It can’t be that bad. You’re just not being patient enough. It is that bad and I couldn’t try harder to be more patient. But I have to. He’s testing his boundaries and I know he’s learning while doing so, but does he have to sit on the dogs or throw everything or scream bloody murder when I tell him he doesn’t need to brush his teeth for the 3rd time in an hour (this actually happens, almost daily). I’m so sick and tired of saying NO and Don’t do that! and Stop! Don’t stand on the couch! Stop throwing that! etc.
Here’s my theory: He’s upset because I’m not around as much. Most days it’s him and Rob and they have built that Father, Son bond and they have their own way of doing things and when I come home it’s all interrupted. I don’t know. Trying to find an answer to this is like trying to to get me to eat ranch dressing. NOT POSSIBLE.
It’s just really hard to get through the day or the hour sometimes. I know he’ll grow out of it, and when he does he’ll do something else that drives me to drink.
Ok, on to other 20 month old Max related things!All of the photos above were taken on my iPhone and shared on Instagram (I’m rederin). I find myself using it far more frequently than my DSLR. Going to try to change that.
He had his hearing test on Monday, which I was so anxious for even though I knew his hearing was perfect. The test took about ten minutes and it consisted of him sitting in my lap with a nurse in front of us and the doctor on the other side of the window pushing buttons that made these little animatronic animals move and make noise. He aced it. Duh. When the doctor was discussing the test results with me I almost cried because now we still don’t know why he’s not talking and of course I didn’t want him to have a hearing problem but I just wanted an answer. The next step with all of this is to get in touch with the state early intervention program to continue speech therapy. Rob and I want to hear his little voice sosososo bad. And yes, of course there will be times when he’s older and he’s talking back to us and I’ll think about the good ol days of the no talking, but it would probably do wonders for all of us if he could talk. He would be able to tell us why he’s so upset! Or tell us what exactly he wants to eat! He could tell me that I’m a mean mom and I’ll love it! I just want to be able to communicate better with him.For all the terrible toddlerness he brings to the table, he still is just the cutest, greatest, most loving tiny boy person. When I come home from work I love getting greeted with squeals of delight and hugs and kisses. Oh the kisses! He puckers his little lips and makes the kissy sound and it just makes me melt. And his hair. Oh the hair. That wild mane will be tamed very, very soon. I do love the bouncing golden ringlets but it’s just out of control and constantly in his eyes, as you can see. It’s pretty incredible that such a small, adorable little boy can cause so much terribleness. But he does, and we’ve just got to deal with it.When I hung up this tablecloth (my favorite Christmas tablecloth!) he got all upset because he thought it was a blanket, but when I was finished taping it up he realized what we were doing and he happily stood against it while giggling. I’ve finally (sort of) got him trained to take photos! Also his monthly birthday is on the 30th and every single month I’ve taken his photo on that very day, but this time I was a day late. I blame work. And now that the doom and gloom has settled in here the lighting is awful and I have to use my flash. Blech.
Only four more to go til he’s 2!