Tuesday, June 14, 2011

on the boy who cried ... something

Ya'll, I don't even know if I can do this story justice.

So if you live with little kids, you know that two-year-olds crumple in a heap in the grocery store, three-year-olds scream "NO!" in your face, and four-year-olds whine. Whine whine whine. Whining in the morning, whining in the evening, whining at suppertime. Always with the whining. I try to be patient with it, really I do. I try to account for things like hunger and my mood and whatnot, and to teach a more appropriate response ("You don't get anything by whining. Take a deep breath, then try again." Does anyone else say this 28 times a day?). But I'm only human. And with a teething baby, an almost-three-year-old perfecting his belligerence, and a whining four-year-old, sometimes I'm just over it. Enough already with the whining.

Yesterday afternoon was one of those days. The boy had whined since lunch. By 4:00, I had used up all of my allotted patience for the day. After much droopiness and - yes - whining, he finally resolved himself to playing on his own for a little while with a beach ball from the dollar store. Seeing that all three of my children were occupied or asleep (a rare moment around here), I called Georgia's Mom.

Cue ominous music here.

Georgia's Mom and I are talking talking, and I hear a crash from the boys' room. Asher walks down the hall whimpering and (wait for it) whining, hand to his head. He says something about a broken something from the beach ball. It's a dollar store beach ball; how bad could it really be, right? I insist it scared him, and that we'll clean up the mess when I'm off the phone. He continues to whimper about his head, and again I tell him he's fine, no need to whine, and would you like to watch your tv show while I finish my phone call? Of course. I turn on his current favorite program and go back to the back bedroom, where I whisper into the phone how much my child is WHINING today and I just don't know what to DO with the kid and his incessant WHINE. A few minutes later, I say good-bye and hang up. I walk into the living room and see Asher, sitting in the recliner, engrossed in his program.

As a trickle of blood congeals on his forehead.

Apparently a light from the ceiling fan broke over my child's head (from a dollar store beach ball?). He wasn't hurt badly enough to need stitches or anything, but he had two or three little cuts on his head from the whole ordeal. Two or three places where blood was matted to his little blond curls. The curls I had insisted were fine.

The boy was bleeding from the head and I'd told him to quit whining.

Have mercy.

There's a lesson in here somewhere.

5 comments:

Kendra said...

Ummm....yeah I got nothing...=)

Mishka said...

We are dealing w/ the same thing w/ our 4yr Asher ;o) and I have reached my limit, I am done. When you figure out how to make it stop please let me know, or if I figure it out I'll let you know!

Mrs. Shehane said...

May I bequeath to you the first principal of motherhood as handed down to me from Ma Lee (who inheritied it from her mom, Zille Mae Countryman)?

Original guilt.

The other thing that comes to mind is the fable of the boy who cried wolf. Maybe Asher would enjoy this tale?

I enjoyed having all of you this week. What fun. Even if I'm sore from lifting and "swimming" with the boys! Love you - Mom

Mrs. Shehane said...

PS Another word about the whining. Just as an observant grandmother -- nothing more -- not telling you what to do or anything -- I think Asher and Silas are just acting out their normal toddler, preschool reaction to a new sibling.

One of the things that I used to do with you after Allison came along was to make a date with you -- just take some time to be with Stephanie. I know this is hard with three children, but even if it just means that Asher gets to go to the grocery store alone with Mom -- it's worth it. Even if it's just book time -- or whatever. I know that girls are easier than boys, but whining is universal. At some point, too, I just told you that being happy was a choice -- and for some divine reason, that stuck with you.-- Marmee

Missy @ It's Almost Naptime said...

LAUGHING!!!

See, when my kids were little, I had a friend named Jenny (still have her), and we could always outdo each other with Bad Mommy Stories. She had a story kinda like this when she was letting her son cry it out and went to his room and he had a bloody nose from banging it against his crib. She told me that to make me feel better after I opened the car door, hard, right into my 1 year old's face. I did tell her, between tears, "Okay you win."

Some day in the future another bad mommy will be crying to you about something she did and you will promise her you can top that, and with this story, you will. And that, my friend, is what makes you an awesome mommy.