It seems as though over the past 11 months, we have created a monster. A 30 inch tall, 20+ pound monster, who drools, craps his pants (regularly!), and enjoys nothing more than tormenting his surroundings.

Now, even with the colic (and thanks in part to his sensory issues and subsequent autistic spectrum diagnosis) and dislike of human interaction, Ben was a remarkably easy toddler. Once he started trundling along and obsessing about either the planets or the pendulum on the grandfather clock, he was a fairly enjoyable guy.

Sure, he still wasn’t the kid you wanted to take out and do stuff with as he’d get overwhelmed in places like Target (the same way, I presume, that I feel about Best Buy) and fall apart, but as far as behavior issues went, Ben was easy-peasy (until aged 3, when all hell broke loose).

When Alex was born, and my glorious doctor was rooting around in my uterus for retained placenta (it sounds as fun as it felt), I swear on The Baby Jesus that had I not immediately thrust him to the boob, he’d have found a way to levitate there on his own (for comparison’s sake only, I will tell you that when I did the same with Ben, about 5 minutes old–although not only was the not-so-glorious doctor rooting around for placenta fragments, he was ALSO stitching up my 4th! degree! tears!– he not only raised his head away from my gigantic nipple, he arched his back and screamed so loudly I looked around to see what had poked him. Little did I know that this was to be The Way It Was for another year).

Alex is the same child who vibrates with pleasure upon being introduced to brand-new foods, like you were handing him the keys to a Lotus Elise, and eats as much (likely more, if I measured) than his 6 year old brother, AND enjoys the occasional snuggle.

Nope, no Aspy-ness there.

On the other hand, whereas Ben is a complete Follower (much to my dismay) and will do whatever it is that someone, anyone around him is doing (lemming much?), Alex wants things his way. Right now. Bitch.

Along with the mischief making of being 11 months old, I swear again on The Baby Jesus that he has started throwing tantrums. If I dare to give him water when he OBVIOUSLY WANTS JUICE (Mom, you ignorant slut!), he shrieks so loudly that my neighbors may actually be assuming that I’m practicing human sacrifice in my family room.

If, in the form of an “Alex, NO” I tell him gently that tearing magazines apart is not such a good way to spend the afternoon (Mom, you ignorant SLUT!), he screams bloody murder WITHOUT ME SO MUCH AS TOUCHING HIM.

(before you think ill of my child-proofing techniques, I promise that I don’t have much around at his level that he can get into–aside from the occasional dime, of course–and therefore be yelled at for touching. I got rid of my Ming Vases at a garage sale along with my sanity many years ago.)

It’s not as though I have issue with telling kids “No”–which, along with no longer using Red Ink on school papers, is the new wave of brat-making, erm parenting– I just don’t think that he needs to hear it every other word while he’s exploring the house and kicking up dust hyenas.

On the one hand, it’s pretty damn hysterical to see an 11 month old who cannot even walk (yet) get so angry about not getting what he wants AT THE PRECISE MOMENT HE SO DESIRES IT, but on the other, more practical hand, it bodes ill for my future AND my eardrums. Because, primarily, I am the Most Stubborn Human Being On The Face (27 years and counting!) on the planet, and it appears that he is about to try to usurp my title, flailing his chubby wrists at my plight.

It should be an interesting year decade ahead of us.

26 thoughts on “Don’t Give Me That Goody-Goody-Goody Bullshit

  1. Well, it’s uncanny really – the similarities between the two of us and our Things 1 and 2. The Beans has a *vile* temper; one is left in wonderment of how such hostile rage can erupt from an eleven month old. She’s actually thrown The MAN into self-defense bootcamp. Her screams are almost always food related as in not enough and not fast enough. NOW!

  2. From my expereince, Mom’s power never get usurped. We have a 3 year old Tasmanian Devil who rules our house. In a couple of years however, like his siblings and me, he will surely submit to Mama’s kingdom.

  3. May I be the first to call Doc a chicken?! Only one, that takes all the fun out of it!!!

    Oh, Aunt Becky, it has only just begun. Did you know that the 1st child is usually a parent-pleaser and the 2nd is a self-pleaser. Just stop while you’re still equal because, believe me, you don’t want to turn that 2nd child into a MIDDLE CHILD. They’re even worse!!!

  4. Ah, this sounds somewhat familiar. Jasper’s favourite ones are the raspberry of disgust and the fake bottom lip. Funny how clear they make things without saying a word, isn’t it?

  5. They’ve stopped using red ink on exam papers?! How did I miss this??

    Loved your descriptions. It cannot possibly be as funny as you make it sound (probably bloody tough) but I was laughing out loud.

    And I tagged you. Sorry, had to do it. It’s a short, fun one. I hope.

    I’m still sorry I missed your garage sale and the Ming vases. I have lots of room, or rather no little hands!

  6. It amazes me how different kids can be – and how one can make you particularly grateful for another model. I guess I should be happy infertility sentenced me to one.

    Keep you on your toes for sure.

  7. Has he started head-banging yet? My second did. He banged and banged – on walls, floors and me. He has a very hard head. Now he’s progressed to screaming and I’m pretty happy about it. Sure, the neighbor probably thinks I abuse him with hot needles, but it’s a lot less painful.

  8. Okay, I’m surprised at the number of people here–PEOPLE WHO HAVE KIDS–who didn’t know that using red ink is discouraged. People in education around the country have generally agreed that using red ink sends too “negative” a message to students and have begun encouraging the use of green or purple ink instead.

    Boy. Glad I got that education degree I STILL DON’T USE.

  9. We are having the same issue around here! And I’ve had just about all of the screaming I can take!

    And it just kills me when my husband walks in from work, and spends five minutes here . . .and is like . . .”What’s he screaming about?”

    Good freaking question!! If I knew . . .I probably wouldn’t have to listen to it all damn day!

    So sorry the last five minutes have been killing you!

    (Can you tell what kind of day, we had today? 🙂

  10. OMG you are in for nice little ride. Like you said
    it should be a very interesting year. But I’m sure
    you’ll get through it & llok back & laugh. (HAHA)
    Good Luck…

  11. I had held the position that I didn’t want to childproof the house. And then Landon spead my tampons around the entire house, and my fear of someone coming over without notice, and before I could gather them all made me finally childproof 75% of the house. I also don’t say “No” nearly as much as my husband does.

  12. I thought that you were writing this post about me! Sam is very much like your little one– a terror! Wants it his way now! and does NOT like being told no. He is the bully at our house for sure!

  13. If you were saying “she” instead of “he” then I would assume that this post was about my daughter, haha. She started having tantrums right about that age and now they are worse. She glares at me like she’s 16, she kicks me, throws things at me and screams like there is no tomorrow. Also, if I leave the room while she is in the throes of a tantrum, she will calmly get up, follow me and then promptly lay back down and start kicking and screaming again. If we put the two of them in a room together, it could be quite entertaining. 🙂

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