Monday, January 28, 2013

Balls

Wow. Ok. So Landon, our two year old, is completely insane.
 
Not, like, all day, or anything, but when he is tired watch out.
 
No seriously, WATCH OUT, because he is chucking whatever is within reach at your head. iPhone, coffee mug, tv remote, noodles, whatever. Or he will punch you in the mouth. Or kick you in the leg. He has these uncontrollable outbursts. It's bizarre. It's not malicious or anything, either. He commits an unspeakable act of physical assault and then sooooo sweetly smiles until his cheeks get really squishy and I want to kiss them so hard that his head falls off. It really screws with my emotions and I don't have the energy for any more confusion in my life. 
 
I just don't know. Maybe it's because he doesn't talk so much and he's trying to alert the world of his sleepiness in those moments? I mean, sure, he has had a handful of frustrating tantrums like any other toddler, and for those, I can find solice and advice in the countless number of books and forums and blogs on the topic. Unfortunately I have yet to find a book titled,
 
"The Terrible Twos-
How To Deal With a Toddler Who Throws Shit When He's Tired"
 
by Dr. Haha Goodluckwiththat
 
We went to dinner a couple nights ago with my in-laws. Our dining experience ended up lasting much longer than I had anticipated, so, naturally, the kids were starting to unravel. Landon is tired, and this is of course, when the butter knives and pieces of ice and crayons begin to fly.  I frantically clear everything in his surrounding area, and because I am sitting next to him, I am wolfing down my salad so the waiter could clear my plate before Landon could attempt to reinact a Greek wedding. I quickly pounded my beer too because, well, because I really wanted to, and children stress me out. So, there he is, sitting at the head of the table, nothing left to destroy, kinda looking around scanning the area for his next attack, and it's at that moment, when Avery and her grandma return from the little toy vending machine which is placed by the restuarant's bathrooms. And because she's sweet and adorable and trying to destroy me, Avery hands Landon his newest weapon- a green rubber bouncy ball.
 
I know it's over. This is the point of the evening where I was aware that my only option was to remove the child from the public place because he was absolutely intent on hurling that ball no matter what. I mean, what better to fling than a ball! I snapped him out of his high chair in an attempt to flee the scene before that rubber bomb left his fingertips, but he lauched that little green missile across the sea of innocent diners anyway. I scrambled to find it, retreived it from under someone else's table, offered about a hundred 'I'm soooo sorry's to patrons and waitresses alike, then because of the magnitude and volume of Landon's opposition to me keeping the ball in my possession, I give it back to him, praying I could sprint to the car fast enough to keep it contained. I've got Landon on my hip and I'm running to the exit. He throws the emerald grenade again. I'm sprinting now, through the parking lot, dodging traffic, chasing the stuuuuupid ball which Landon has made clear he cannot live without, and everytime it hits the pavement to bounce, it changes direction, making my task that much more difficult. I track the thing down which has thankfully been haulted by a car's tire, angrily shove my son in his car seat, fucking gladly strap him down, and wait for the other half of my family to join me so we can go home and I can put this nutcase to bed.

We get home, and I immediately begin to run a bath for the kids. Landon is throwing the ball at everything. At the walls, at the floor, at his sister. I grab him, slide open the tub's glass door and dump him in the bathtub, desperately trying to get him to a place where he is clean enough to put to bed, all while he is still clutching the plaything that is ruining my life at the moment. He can tell I am irritated, and in his progressed state of sleepiness, he is irritated that I'm irritated too. He scowls, gives me an 'I'm comin' for ya' look, and begins to pull his throwing arm back to build up speed for the green rubber torpedo he's about to shoot at my face. At that moment, I promptly slide the tub's glass door shut to protect myself. And in the most amazing turn of events ever, my son thrusts the ball, the goddamn thing hits the glass, bounces, then whacks little Lan right between the eyes. It was, sad to say, unbelievably gratifying. Is that bad?

Then TONIGHT! Troy was rolling around on our bedroom floor with the kids, throwing them in the air, balancing them on one hand, and the like. He refers to it as Cirque Du Troy-leil because he's so freaking weird, and while he was lying on his back, bench pressing my daughter, our ready-for-bed son socked my unexpecting husband dead in the balls. And it knocked him OUT. I took a picture because he laid like this for ten minutes and mumbled, into the carpet, the most hysterical slew of immense pain-induced verbage of all time.

"It's like he snapped it with a ruler."
"Oh god, I can feel it in my butthole."
"That was like fully... full on... [unintelligible]"
"I don't even know if they're still attached."
And my favorite,
"I'm halfway between throwing up and diarrhea."

Huh. What is with me finding such unmatched joy in the physical pain of my loved ones lately? Kinda concerning. Must need a vacation... oh wait! FOUR DAYS!


BYEBYE



 
 
 
 

10 comments:

  1. My daughter is two, and although I love her, there are some days I can't stand to be around her. This is the worst phase yet.

    I feel bad for your husband and his injury, but I did have to laugh at his pain induced talk. I tell my husband he should probably just wear a cup until our kids are teenagers.

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  2. Hahaha oh my that last part is too funny!! My nephew has head-butted my husband in the balls a few times lol.

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  3. Is it bad that I'm laughing at your family's pain? Because I am.

    Halfway between throwing up and diarrhea... LOL!

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  4. Braelyn gets Jonathan every time he is laying down... I think its her way of saying she doesnt want a younger sibling! ha!

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  5. Sofia's prayer for this evening; "Dear Lord, find me some way to capture some humor in this situation." *Troy gets punched in the balls. "Thank you Jesus!!!"

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  6. I feel bad for laughing at the pain of all of this but it's really funny! At least you're able to have a sense of humor about all of it. It's the best way to deal with "these" types of situations. Your daughter's face is priceless. She looks so concerned!

    xo
    Rachel

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  7. So first, you wrote the BEST comment EVER on my blog! How much I relate to wanting to shoot myself when I visit other insipid mom blogs. You just had the balls to say it. Oh, wait, what a nice segue to your post...So...balls...yes, the new normal of children is crazy making. I relate to that one more than I would like to. It's also a hell of a lot of fun, though.

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  8. So I was totally on the same page as you (my kid likes to throw everything right now... not necessarily at heads, but he throws). Then I got to the last part and died (laughing). Apologies for the chuckles at your husband's expense, but BAHA!
    Newest follower! Swing by
    http://d-and-s-macke.blogspot.com/2013/02/a-different-run.html
    would love a return follow.

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  9. Hahahah. Oye. The terrible twos are tough!

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  10. Our youngest son, Dylan, is the same age & doing the SAME THING right now - everything gets thrown at unfathomable speeds from a little 2 year old arm and nothing is safe from his high-velocity hurling of random objects up to and including the ever-so-unpopular husband-nut-shot. I laugh so hard when I read your blogs I pee myself a little. Seriously. 4 kids... you all know what I'm sayin. WHAT?! I wear a panty liner. Don't judge. BAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! Keep it up Mrs. Beers - You are my HERO!! <3

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