Max: Menace Diaries

Max. Max. Max. This little dude has been giving me a run for my money lately. I think we are finally nearing the end of a potty training regression, so that's a plus. I'm happy to be back on a once a week rotation for washing our bedding, three times a week was getting to be a little ridiculous. I have to laugh because we have both adapted to each others behaviors -- while I've learned certain fidgety movements are a sure sign Max's bladder is about to explode, he has learned that's also about the time I'm going to call him out. It seems right as we make eye contact, he says "no pee Mom, me just jumping." And then he continues to hop around awkwardly, like that is a normal thing to do. 

That's easy stuff compared to the fierce attitude he has unleashed lately. There are several times throughout the day when he simply cannot handle his emotions and explodes with such anger. This happens when he wants to do something all by himself, but is unable. This happens if I refuse to let him eat candy for breakfast. This happens if someone has something he wants. This happens if his cereal gets soggy. This happens if I forget to hold his hand down the stairs. This happens if I arrange the pillows wrong on his bed. This happens if I choose the wrong underwear, for him or myself. This happens if I put too many ice cubes in his drink. This happens if I walk too fast. This happens if I walk too slow. This happens when he deliberately disobeys. I could go on...but I think you get the idea. Clearly this has been happening a lot. The poor dude is like a light switch.

If it gets real ugly and I've exhausted all other options, I just sit next to him and start repeating the words "peace and calmness" out loud like a hopeless idiot --- it either works and he actually calms down or it just makes him more infuriated. I like to ask him if he feels misunderstood because as he replies with "yes" through the somewhat forced sobbing, it creates a slightly adorable moment within the chaos. We tend to hug it out a lot. 

I've found myself watching him in his sleep more frequently to enjoy him in a peaceful state. Definitely not to remind myself that giving him away is not an option. Lyla has also learned the art of compromise when it comes to her little brother. I've noticed within their own interactions she will sometimes give in just to avoid a fight, especially if she can sense his temperature rising. I think she can agree that remaining consistent [all.day.long] can be so exhausting. We pick our battles these days.

This will pass, just as it always does. I think I'm just a little taken back this round because 1. Max is typically easy going and maybe I foolishly thought he could never possibly be a victim of twoberty/threenager syndrome and 2. Lyla had already defeated her super dramatic stint by this age. But again, I must remind myself, their development timeline will vary because they are two different people. I don't know why I even bother comparing parenting round one to round two, it's rarely helpful. Max is two years old, experiencing and learning just as he's meant to... but if he could go ahead and wrap up this unpleasant phase, that would be swell. 

In reality, there could be worse things to groan about. These complaints are minimal. I am immensely grateful for two healthy children who keep me busy and keep my heart full. I'm a very blessed Momma. Life is good.