Well, here's the thing. Some days as a parent, you want to send them back. We sometimes joke (only to ourselves) that we could, if we wanted to. Today was one of those days. To give you background, we realized we were starting to not follow through on misbehavior and consequences... warning lots, but he wasn't getting the consequences of his actions. So this weekend we decided we needed to put a halt to it, and follow through - both of us. Meanwhile, we would also soften up on some things that we figured we should just "let go" on. Sunday was rough, got "grumpy" three times. That's what daycare calls his time-outs, so we adopted it too.

Today. Oh my gosh, today. From the start, he was a pistol. Between 7:15 and 8:00am he went to "grumpy" twice (standing on the couch and grabbing stuff off my desk). Then he went through our bedside drawers, pulled down the gate to the bathroom (while I was in the shower), and various other little irritating things. Climbing and touching things he KNOWS not to touch.

Then he tromped through the mud and when I put him in the car, he kicked the back of my seat to wipe the mud off and giggled. Oh, that was AFTER he screamed because I wouldn't let him play in the front of the car. He did fine in Sears, and so I dropped him off at daycare. Then I picked him up in the afternoon....

He wanted to go to the mall. He walked all over and was quite charming, until we entered the Disney store. I warned him once not to touch, and then even gave another warning for good measure. He walked over to a shelf, grinned at me, and grabbed a Pooh picture frame. So I picked him up and tried to put him in his stroller. TRIED. He arched his back, tried to slap me, and screamed at the top of his lungs. So I took him out to the regular mall area and struggled another minute or two before I could finally keep his hip in the stroller long enough to buckle him in (him screaming all the while).

A half hour later, we go to the car... it starts again. He cries loudly because I won't let him play in the front of the car. I try to put him in the car seat, he says "NO!". I did the usual (please keep in mind, this isn't all me forcing. There's lots of explaining and compromises and choices offered). When he finally leans back to get in the seat, I do it - and the minute his leg hits the car seat, he arches his back and SCREAMS to high heaven. At this point, Mama lost it. Forgive me, Social Services - sometimes you gotta get physical. I dragged his arms through the buckles so I could at least get the chest-buckle snapped, but he started sliding down the seat.

So I forcefully picked him up, pinned his hips in the car seat, and got him buckled, and then lovingly slammed the car door. When I got in I was SO angry. He was crying and yelling, carrying on... well, if you know me, you know my temper isn't limited to just actions. The words gotta come too. "When mama tells you to get in the car seat, YOU GET IN THE CAR SEAT. Understand?!" All that nonsensical stuff. It did get him to stop crying though. Imagine it in a hoarse, husky voice because I have laryngitis from so much sinus drainage...I think he was shocked. Then as I drove home, I started crying... I can't believe I lost my temper like that.

It was a rough night all-round. He wouldn't eat dinner, he whined constantly, but eventually went to bed giggling. Last Valentine's Day, we were on the plane heading to Moscow for our first trip. I would have to say THAT holiday was better than today's. So Doug brought home a package of Nerds for me (because Roman was being such a nerd. Get it?!). Maybe the phone call I made to him when I simply stated "when we get home, he's YOURS" gave him some insight.