The Age of Contrasts. Big Ones.

First off, I have to say that having a full time job is really cutting into my writing time.  I’ve also discovered that the big problem with writing is you actually have to sit down and do it.  It’s really not one of those things you can fake, because I’d look pretty stupid posting blank pages on my blog site, and I’m guessing most people might catch on if I tried that.  With that being said, here are today’s musings, which is proof that I did manage to get my butt in the chair today… and for the four or five of you who actually read this, the long wait (or respite) is over…

So aside from the horror of having a three-year-old dictator-tot running the show most of the time, it’s also looking like this might just be a pretty sickeningly cute age.  There’s lots of hugging and snuggling, and lately he’s taken to singing, which just curls my toes and makes me want to die of a sugar/sweetness overdose.  It’s a time of great contrasts – our house is either like a Disney movie with birds landing on SB and everyone bursting into song, or it’s the set of The Shining with someone creeping around corners saying, “Redrum” with an evil laugh. 

I’m finding that bribery – oops, I mean rewards/incentives – work fairly well with SB now that’s he’s a big boy kid (his phrase, not mine).  I’m not saying that he’s a sucker, but I’m feeling fairly smug about how easily he falls for my schemes.  Usually.  Call it what you want, but if a $1.00 Hot Wheel does the trick of keeping him in bed, or peeing in the bathroom, whatever – I’m in. 

Lastly – the singing is off the charts.  For some strange reason, he really likes the Beatles’ “Octopus Garden”, and to hear him sing along and mangle the words makes me want to die of cute.  And not to be too obnoxious, but he’s clearly a musical prodigy.  It’s just a matter of time before he buys me a private island with his royalties.  As long as no one’s creeping around saying, “Redrum”, I’ll take it. 

So what do you all think?  Did the terrible-awful-embarrassing twos turn into the usually very cute – except when it’s not – threes?



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!!!