As I have mentioned earlier, I am tinkering with Big E's schedule. Yesterday, he did not nap, he stayed out late, and spent some time in the pool. This was the perfect storm for today's daily epic temper tantrum.
He slept in this morning and we had to rush to make it out the door on time for school. This was the warning shot.
I picked him up from school. He was his usual sweaty, covered in food, stickers, and body stamps self. He wanted to go see Mr. Yoy and the fountains at his office.
Mr. Yoy wasn't around but we decided to meet up for some fro-yo post nap. Yes, Big E was definitely getting a nap today. He had that crazy tired look in his eyes.
We pulled into the garage. And there it began.
He would not get out of the car. It was only when I closed the door to the car, turned out the garage lights, and went inside the house for a minute, that he decided to come out of the car.
Next up, the bath. I told him he needed a bath before his nap. This, apparently, was not on his agenda. I already knew my game plan. I headed upstairs with Little E, locked the gate behind us (this is key) and began playing on the floor. Big E was up the stairs in two seconds flat. This kid doesn't want to miss anything.
Once I had him upstairs, I had to chase him around ripping off articles of clothing. Shoes, socks, shorts, shirt, and finally diaper. He was screaming, NO BATH, NO BATH!
UGH, why can nothing be easy?
I drew the bath and picked him up to carry him in there. WALK! WALK! He wanted to walk to the bath, of course, since he had shown such willingness to cooperate moments earlier. Too bad, Big E. I put him in the tub.
He wasn't going to give up this battle so easy.
He refused to sit.
He didn't want to use soap.
He wanted to use soap.
He didn't want to brush his teeth.
He wanted to brush his teeth.
He wanted to stay and play.
I wanted to fire my imaginary gun through my skull. At this point, I'm hanging by a thread. Tears are welling up in my eyes. Please stop. Please.
He takes a break from screaming and crying to say hi to Little E when he crawls in to see what in Hades is going on in the bathroom. It was in such a sweet voice, too, which really threw me for a loop when he quickly reverted back to Satan.
I pulled up the plug on the tub and he tried to close it. He was hysterical and laying down in the waterless tub.
I wrapped his writhing body up in a towel and took him to his room.
Next up dressing and diapering. I already knew this was going to be a sequel to bath time. He was lashing around on his changing table and crying for Mr. Yoy and his towel.
Finally, I put him in his crib. At least now he was contained. He bounced right up and started jumping and barking orders through a haze of tears and snot.
Tuck me in!
Line up my animals!
I need my pillow!
I cranked the sound machine and ran out of there.
And then, almost immediately, silence. It was like he dropped dead from exhaustion.
He's asleep now and I'm sure when he awakes he'll be sweet as sugar and want to be best friends again.
I know that he was beyond tired and that partially explains his behavior. But he is also two. And hell bent on disagreeing with me about everything.
I want to lock my bedroom door, crawl into bed, and drink many glasses of wine. Instead, I'll use the five plot stages and blog about it.
I'm praying for strength to make it through the two's and beyond. And maybe a few encouraging words to let me know I'm not alone.