A Turning Point

In this post, something is about to be revealed that I thought I would probably not ever tell the whole world (eh, who am I kidding, all six of you that read this): my weight. To be fair, I'm packing what I call "marathon pounds." I usually put on about four or five pounds when I train for a lengthy race because my mileage increases and thus my muscles (damn heavy things) increase. And alas, they have.

Anyway without further ado, today was the point at which my 33-ish pound child overpowered his 108 pound mommy. Seriously. What the heck? Shouldn't that still be enough of a weight disparity that I should be able to kick his behind if need be? Not that I would, but if I should need to? I've actually not resorted to hitting the kid but it'd be nice to know I could, right? Kidding, of course. Don't let this innocent joy at seeing Jack this morning fool you, in his soul today lies evil.

The kid was attempting to break his record for "worst behavior ever" today and was doing a bang up job of it and I was attempting to break my record for "most time outs given in a single day," when he decided, "hey, if I physically resist her putting me in the chair, what's the worst that could happen?" Well, the worst that can happen is that an epic battle ensues. No kidding, the kid won. I could NOT get him in the dang chair. Hmmmm, what to do. Well, since it was a hurdle we had not crossed together at this point because though he be small, he be mighty and anyone with a toddler knows that a small and arching body is difficult if not impossible to tame into a position that you desire. This is what he looked like prior to arching earlier today, also being a crapper, refusing to smile for me; and, I should note, mixing the play-d'oh colors and making me nuts.

My solution to time out dilemma? Well, I shall not say it was a good one but it worked on the fly. I threw him in the dark garage (aka playroom) for twenty seconds and shut the door until he was shocked into submission and waddled to the chair on his own recognizance. I always spend hours feeling guilty about doing such cruel things like the garage right after I do it, thinking, "oh god, what was I thinking!" Then, he reminds me that he is completely unscathed. Ummm, my kid decided fifteen seconds into time out that the garage was a better option and began screaming for the "cool, fun and dark garage." See, not afraid of ANYTHING! Well, apparently except the time out chair. Maybe it's because while he's in it I poke him with electrodes and/or drip water on him slowly and methodically until he admits his role in various subversive plots. Things like this always make me wonder what it is I do that will actually scar him for life.

Anyway, now I'm sitting here not reading my paper for the last time before class tonight but instead going over strategies to regain control over my otherwise angelic child and telling the "world" about how I lost said control of him today. In other words, I'm procrastinating. Maybe that's why I'm doing so badly in this class.

What's funny about this whole thing is that he's been asleep and quiet now for about twenty minutes and I already miss him, despite his craptacular antics today. I'd take him, warts and all, every second of the day. I love my little man, even wrestling him into the time out chair.