I always heard that when you become a parent you end up paying for your raising. Why was this never mentioned until I was already pregnant?! I mean maybe...just MAYBE...I would have been less of a character. (I mean I have never been obnoxious or sarcastic or stubborn or dramatic or anything like that. Nope...not me) I am here to say...I am officially...paying for my raising. (or if you're from Texas, payin' for my raisin'..must be said with thick accent)
This has been apparent...almost from the beginning. Just not in such a high doseage. Bowen's morning issues definitely come from me and that shit has been happening since day one. Then there was his being held issues. (no, not the issue of me ALWAYS holding him) When he was an infant he never wanted to be cradled in your arms, he wanted to be up on your shoulder seeing what everyone was doing. Another one of my fabulous traits. Bowen is also known for wanting what he wants when he wants it with no questions asked. (now I dunno who he gets this from bc that is certainly not me) Well...now he is 3. And he is walking, running, jumping, climbing..and talking. This has created a whole new monster.
This morning I was trying to get Bowen to stop playing with his trains and come get dressed. Now normally I can threaten to leave him and he starts crying and running towards me. So I say, "FINE! I am leaving you!" and grab my purse and open the door. Right as I am stepping out the door I look back into his room and he is standing by his trains with a HUGE grin on his face and waving bye bye. It was hard not to smile at this, but I put on my mean face and told him to get his heiney to the living room NOW or I was gonna spank it. (ok ...fine...heiney was really ass and spank was really beat) I think he knows now that I PROBABLY wouldn't have done it. So he stood there and smiled. (damn that smile) I started counting. I even got to three (which is new...usually it is only 2) and had to start heading towards his door before he started fake crying and running towards me with open arms. Then he got dressed with no problem, except that he wanted his hat on backwards and he wanted to do that himself. (seriously..time was ticking and we had to go..I just wanted to help)
But really every single day it is something with this kid. Most of the time I have a hard time trying not to laugh (like when he dropped the f bomb or told Jason he was not bitchiness) and it is hard deciding how to discipline. So usually I ignore. (not saying that is the best thing)
Let me explain a little.
One morning (as per usual) Bowen was being a pain in my ass and I was trying to get him ready. I finally got him to get dressed and he looked at me and said (very seriously), "You cut it out Mommy! I say stop it now!" I don't even think I was talking to him at that point, just trying to get him to put his head through the right hole of his shirt. So...I stifled a giggle..and pretended it never happened. The thing is...the kid probably hears that exact same thing, but with his name in it, atleast once a day. Atleast we know he has the ability to remember things.
Then there is the band aid thing. He HAS to have a band aid every single night when he gets out of the tub. During the day (when I am home with him) there is usually atleast one time he falls or something and needs a band aid as well. He makes his bottom lip all pouty and looks at me with those big, blue, puppy dog eyes and says he needs one. Of course I get him one! It is a damn band aid...not a beer! Jason says he doesn't need one every time he asks..but seriously..I am too tired to fight that battle and if it makes him happy, and costs me approx. $1.68/week, then he can have a damn band aid. Anyways...back to the tub..the only way to get him out of the tub lately is to offer a band aid. Last night he had to put one on his tummy. Was there anything wrong with his tummy? Nope. But that is where his "boo-boo" was. All I know is...it is better than having to wrap him in ace bandages or gauze..so I will take the band aid theatrics.
Bowen has also started using his imagination. It is pretty damn cute actually. (Except when he is -very forcefully- telling ME to use my imagination) Lately he is different animals. And it always starts with a kitty cat. This weekend we were leaving to go somewhere and Bowen was a cat. He crawled across the cement and street (which was obv hot) meowing the whole time. I had my slow as mollasses child crawling across the ground meowing like a lost kitten and getting dirtier by the millisecond and Jason saying, "Oh honey, get him off of the ground!" Umm nooooooo! If he wants to be a damn cat, let him be a damn cat. He isn't crying or whining or on me. (It is annoying when I am at Buffalo Wild Wings trying to enjoy my chips and cheese and he is meowing and laying on me..but whatevs...I deal) Plus it brings me great pleasure when he is a frog and ribbits and jumps directly on Jason's stomach. Ahh...imagination is not such a bad thing.
Like I said before, Bowen wants what he wants when he wants it..and you better not question him. Every night Jason or I read him a story. Usually I do it. So we go to his room and lay on his bed together while I read stories. One night I was really tired so I thought it would be better (meaning I wouldn't fall asleep during Blue Burt and Wiggles) if I sat up to read. That shit was not happening. Bowen told me to lay down. I told him I wanted to sit up. He sat up in bed, tossed his blankies aside and looked at me...kinda mean. Then he pointed his finger at me and said, "Mommy you way down on my piwwhoa"...and when he said pillow he moved his little finger towards his pillow. Now even though he had spoken to me sternly, I couldn't help but laugh a little. I gave in and decided to speed read so I would stay awake since my weary head was on such a plush pillow.
The list could go on and on. Every day Bowen does something else that causes me stop and wonder what the hell happened to my sweet, QUIET, baby. And then start worrying about what I am going to have to deal with when he is a teenager. I don't see these moments going anywhere and I am positive my hands will be even more full the older he gets. But of course, I love it.
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