The Tumultuous Threes? The Tempestuous Threes? The Traumatic Threes? Oh, hell.

After SB (small boy) turned three, I thought the worst was over.  Everyone talked about the Terrible Twos, and we survived – relatively intact except for a few nervous tics and a constant state of exhaustion.  All done, onward and upward, right? 

Except life, as we all know it, is cruel at times.  SB’s only been three for a couple of weeks, so it’s early days, but WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED???

Where’d my sweet, affectionate boy go?  SB used to be a world champion snuggler.  Now?  “DON’T touch me”.  Huh?  Are girls already gross?  But I’m the mama!  He has years to go before he finds me loathsome…right?

And the temper management issues? (Formerly known as tantrums but I’m sick of that word)  It used to be, in the good old days of two weeks ago, that we pretty much knew what would set him off.  The dreaded hair washing nights, turning off the TV before Curious George was over, the horror of a lost toy, stuff like that.  Now it’s like living with a teenage girl – the drama, screaming, crying – and he’s only three.  And a boy. 

No one’s safe from the wrath of SB.  Our sweet dog, who’s loved him since I was pregnant, has now wisely found a good spot under the kitchen table where the drama king can’t reach him.  Our poor cats haven’t come out of hiding since 2011, and when I do see them they look at me with utter disdain, “Oh, you brought that loud thing home AGAIN?”

One of my friends on Facebook just posted that she enjoys her dog’s company more than her 15 year-old son sometimes.  When I was done laughing, I realized that I have 12 more years to go before SB becomes someone who I might prefer my dog over.  Then I realized that it’s already happening. 

So help me out here…does it get better?  Worse?  Am I going to have to join the Witness Protection Program when he turns four?  Fill me in please!!!


The Big Birthday Bash

Yesterday was SB’s birthday party – the big Three.  We went with the Toy Story theme this year – cake, decorations, balloons, and thank God they had a Buzz Lightyear tablecloth or I don’t know what I would have done.

I’m not sure what we were thinking, but the night before we went into a frenzy of cleaning and tidying.  So the house was spotless – and then the party began.  We would have been better off just running through the house randomly throwing toys and food for an hour, since that’s clearly the décor that three year olds prefer.

Needless to say, SB was out of his mind the day of the big soiree.  “Is it my party yet NOW? NOW?  NOW???”  After the millionth time he asked, we were finally finished with breakfast.  Poor guy – every time anyone walked by our house he yelled, “come in friend!!!” Never mind that it was the woman next door walking her dog, the gardener, etc.

The rest was standard kid birthday party stuff – some laughing and some crying, total mayhem, fighting over toys, pizza flung through the house with great enthusiasm (thanks, SB), the dog barking every ten seconds, singing, and then we devoured huge hunks of cake.

Then everyone left and we were left with the aftermath.  Once again I wished we had installed a cement floor with a drain instead of going with wood, since the only way we’re going to be able to get everything clean is to pressure wash the living room.

And can you believe this?  None of the kids complemented me on the stupid tablecloth.  Next year we’re having the party somewhere else.  Someplace with a floor drain.

Happy Birthday, SB!

To my gorgeous little guy who’s turning three tomorrow – Happy, Happy Birthday!! I love you more than anything in the universe, and consider you the biggest blessing in my world. I’m so grateful that you’re my kid, even when you’re barfing all over the car or engaging me in 20 minute conversations about why poop is brown.

You’re wildly funny, sweet, so happy (except when you’re not – then no one is), curious and silly, and I hope you keep those qualities forever.

 And now for the Hokey Mom Alert…

I wish you a world free of hate, religious persecution, crazy terrorists, people who don’t believe in global warming, and mean spirited thinkers.  I hope that intolerance is a foreign concept and compassion and love are the norm.

I wish you a life full of joy, learning, laughter, moments of utter bliss and total abandon, freedom to do/say/think what you want, and a clean, peaceful world.

I hope you laugh lots, have mountains of empathy for others, and I hope that you’re nice to girls and women your whole life.  Be happy, be free, and hug everyone you love whenever you can.  Be nice to animals and rescue lots of them.  Dance a lot, even if you look as dumb as I do when you’re flailing around.

 But stop talking about poop.  Really.


 Your Amused Mama

The Most Disgusting Family in the World

SB (Small Boy) had a lively and exhilarating adventure with the stomach flu last Sunday.  He was a little lethargic, whinier than his usual self, and as I was backing in to the garage, he introduced me to the exciting world of projectile vomiting in the car.

I wish I could say that my motherly instincts kicked in right away and that I went into full nurturing mode – I really do.  But my first thought as he was spewing like a geyser into the backseat was, “oh my GOD, my favorite shoes are back there!!”  Bad, bad, mama.  But on the bright side, it did make me move even faster to get him out of there.

And then he broke my shoe obsessed heart.  I got him into the backyard, literally soaked all the way down to his shoes, and he started screaming and looked so horribly sad that I immediately forgot about my shoes and went into mama mode.  I cleaned Mr. Barfy up, calmed him down, and made him a nice little nest on our couch, which coincidentally is barf colored, as much as BB (Big Boy – my husband) would disagree.  And he passed out for four hours.  I guess a lively bout of throwing up and screaming at the top of your lungs will do that.

And here’s where the fun really began.  The clean up.  FEMA could have been called out to this mess, that’s how bad it was.  Even the dog avoided me, and you all know what dogs like to get into…

All I can say is thank GOD for leather seats.  I can also proudly say that I took the car seat apart, washed and dried the whole thing, and then had BB put it back together because I couldn’t remember what the hell I did to take it apart in the first place.  I never did get my Engineering degree from MIT so I was out of luck with this one.

Since SB is a kind and generous little guy, he was thoughtful enough to share his stomach flu with both of us.  Let’s just say I lost four pounds in two days, which normally would be cause for wild celebration – but this way?  Never.  Luckily SB was well enough to go to day care so BB and I could stay home and die in peace for two days, thus earning us the title of the Most Disgusting Family in the World.  Aside from thanking God for leather seats, I was also extremely grateful for three bathrooms, so we could at least keep the romance alive and be revolting in private.

But on the bright side, my shoes are fine.

Now it’s time to share your horror stories – where was the grossest place your kids got sick? Did you catch it too?  Remember, misery LOVES company!