My Saturday

I had a real doozy of a Saturday this past weekend, one from which I have not yet fully recovered.  I was sick, tired and pushed beyond my tolerance for the utter lack of cooperation from our obstreperous first born.  So I exploded, almost literally.  Note: this story is difficult for me to share, but I’m hoping to find something therapeutic about doing so.  I have no idea where this is going to go by the time I finish it.

We had just eaten lunch and pulled the Legos back out.  Dan had grabbed Ella a little early for her nap, and Cal and I continued to sit at the kitchen table as he stacked and snapped Legos together.  Legos aren’t easy, especially for a still somewhat clumsy, tired 4-year-old who is unfortunately well on his way to being a perfectionist (if he’s not already there).  He was struggling and audibly frustrated.  So I told him that it was time for his nap – he was just tired and could pick this up after his nap.

This was met with a series of loud “Nos,” some angry tears and a lot of insistence that he wasn’t tired.  I backed off a bit figuring a 5-minute warning might help.  It didn’t.  I had already set the naptime ball in motion – it could not be stopped.  Realizing this, I got Cal moving to the stairs, resisting verbally but cooperating physically.

When we got to the top of the stairs, I asked, “Please go potty first.”  (This was to mitigate the risk of an accident during his nap, which almost always happens at home but almost never at school.)  I said this politely but sternly, leaving as little opening to resistance as possible.  This, too, didn’t work.

“I DON’T HAVE TO GO POTTY!!!!!” Cal exclaimed angrily.  Ella was already napping in her room just down the hall.

“Cal, please just try to go potty,” I insisted, again politely yet sternly and went to grab an Underjam.

“BUT I DON’T HAVE TO GO POTTY!!!!!” Cal exclaimed angrily again.  My proverbial blood was starting to boil.

“Cal, you don’t have accidents at school.  Why is that?  Huh?  Because you go potty before your nap.” And I pulled his pants down and steered him to the toilet.  I was frustrated and showing it.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

“Fine,” and then I threw his Underjam on him and then steered him to his bedroom and into his bed, uttering further frustrated statements as I did.  And then he made the innocent mistake of insisting that he wear pants to bed – a simple, understandable request which I knew even in the moment… but I was already “gone.”  I grabbed a pair of pajama pants and tossed them at him lying in his bed and screamed (I mean screamed) something to the effect of “why does everything have to be so hard, Cal?!?!!!  Everything I ask you to do you say “no” to! EVERY SINGLE THING?!?!!  Why, Cal?!?!!!  Why is that?!?!!!” as I pounded my hands into his mattress.  I even included an “I’m sick” somewhere in there (I really was)… I don’t know why… it just seemed significant at the time.

I then stormed out of his room in tears and headed downstairs – all the way downstairs to the basement – slamming gates and doors behind me.  I lay on the bed in the guestroom in the basement and proceeded to cry out loud (no kidding – I sobbed) for a good 15-30 minutes (I wasn’t keeping track – it felt like hours, really).  I cried myself to a much needed sleep.

The events that had gotten me to that point alone were not enough to justify the tears – in-the-moment frustration, yes; but the tears, not really.  When I asked Cal why EVERYTHING I ask him to do is met with resistance, I meant it.  It’s exhausting, and my capacity to brush it off as his just being a 4-year-old had been dwindling for several weeks.  At that moment, I had no more capacity left to tolerate his blatant disregard for the requests I was making, requests that were more for his benefit than they were for mine.

Someone close to me told me that it’s good that he’s standing up for himself, that he’s voicing his opinions, that he’s not just laying down to authority.  It’s a good trait to have.  I can respect that, but I need him to start balancing it with a hint of reason and calmness.  Not that I want to have to justify everything I ask him to do all the time, but I’d take a reasonable conversation over a fight any day.  “Please go potty, Cal,” I might ask.  “I don’t have to – why do you want me to go potty, Mommy?” Cal might respond calmly.  “To help you not have an accident during your nap,” I might respond.  And then he could come back with “okay” or “I’ll try really hard not to have an accident.”  Even though the latter doesn’t get me what I really want (for him to go potty before nap), there’s a hint of recognition of why I’m asking him to go potty; and I might actually accept it (and prepare myself for certain clean-up later).

I don’t think I’m going to get the “break” that I want.  Cal’s four.  Four-year-olds are unreasonable and do this (so I’m told – this is my first time with one, so I can only go on what others say).  I can’t control how he’s going to react to a situation.  There are two things that are in my control, however – one, I can mitigate the risk of an explosive, negative response and two, I can control how I react. 

It’s now Wednesday.  This happened on Saturday.  All day Sunday and then again on Monday morning and evening (when I saw him) Cal was an angel.  He did things immediately upon being asked and was even proactive, doing things because he knew we would ask but before we actually did ask.  He even pointed this out a handful of times.  “Daddy, I washed my hands before you asked,” he indicated.  It was heavenly, almost sickeningly pleasant.  I have to figure my blow-up played a role in this.

Unfortunately, my blow-up also left me defeated and doubting myself as a parent.  What am I doing wrong?  I know my reaction wasn’t the right one – what IS the right reaction?  Worst of all, I felt I put a distance between Cal and me, one that he had already started filling with more Daddy time – “I want DADDY to put me to bed ALL the time,” Cal stated later on Sunday, which made me sad.  Now, Cal has told me on more than one occasion, “I don’t like you, Mommy.”  The first time he said this, it hurt; the second and third, not as much; and today, not at all.  But coming off the heels of our fight, this was a set-back.  I couldn’t help but wonder if he even liked me anymore.

With the passing of days, it seems that Cal has fully recovered from my blow-up as if it never happened.  Me, I’m still working on forgiving myself for losing my composure and still a little on eggshells as I proceed to parent.  I said earlier that while I can’t control how Cal reacts to a situation, I can mitigate the risk of his lack of cooperation and I can control how I react.  For the former, we’ve recently made good progress with things like having Cal lay out his clothes at night for the next day to eliminate "wishy-washiness" when getting ready for school.  Maybe it’s time we re-introduce the Reward Chart.  Maybe there’s another mitigation idea “out there.”  For the latter, I need to figure this out – I can’t give in to his lack of cooperation; but I can’t blow up, either.  I need to find some middle ground, which may be a mixture of picking my battles and responding coolly accordingly.  He has to take a nap… he has to pick up his toys and books… he has to wash his hands before dinner and brush his teeth before bed.  These are things on which I will not budge.  But maybe the pre-nap potty routine should be more of a recommendation than a rule.

Tonight, Cal ate all of his dinner which qualified him to pick a treat from his Valentine’s Day goodies.  He chose a bite-sized Milky Way.  Standing next to me, he took a bite of it and then asked me if I wanted a bite, too.  Appreciative of and touched by his offer, I took the smallest of bites.  He really is a sweetheart, a good kid.  And he does love me.

Maybe the occasional blow-up isn’t so much damaging as a reason to step back, reassess and make some adjustments.  Maybe Cal inherently knows this.  Maybe I needed to write this to figure it out... and almost believe it.