10.19.2011

sweet child of mine.

This photo is cute, isn't it? Adorable, in fact, wouldn't you say? Just a baby boy and his best buddy, Winnie Cooper. Lounging. Mugging for the camera. Just as sweet as sugar.

Except here's the thing: Not much about Sam has been sweet these days. The lead-up to this photo session? Yeah, I'm pretty sure it went something like this -- Sam moseys up to Winnie in the kitchen all "Hey Winnie! What's shakin'? Feel like a royal rumble? Not really? That's cool....."

And WHAPOW!

After a swift smack to the snout, a stomp to the rib cage and the extra-special double-ear yank, Winnie's on the floor playing -- and praying that she actually is, in fact -- dead, while Sam just sits and smiles, snacking on mini muffins.

Such a sweet, sweet boy I'm raising. Mother of the year, baby. Mother of the year.

Seriously friends, I feel like I spend my entire day, each and every day, on repeat: "Gentle!" "Absolutely not!" "Sam Brown!" "Patience!" "No hitting momma!" "Show me what you want and I'll help you!" and my all-time favorite: "This is not how we communicate! Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?!?"

Yeah, I'm aware. I'm officially a lunatic. A 20-month-old smirky-face ginger has reduced me to a bumbling idiot, who spends her days huffing and puffing around the house, blindly chanting commands in an effort to discipline as if it's going to do any good.

You see, Sam and I seem to be in this incredibly challenging in-between phase where effective communication ceases to exist. He screams ... and kicks ... and holds 80-pound animals against their will, while I apparently think of the most ridiculous thing to say to a non-verbal toddler and then say something even more ridiculous than that.

Over ... and over ... and over again.

I know, I know -- even this delusional "I know it looks like my child's turned into the exorcist, but really it's just because he's frustrated from the lack of communication" explanation sounds completely ridiculous and mock-worthy. But let me remind you that I'm a hormonal 63-weeks pregnant person. I'm relying on the crazy delusion and excuses to get my through the next four weeks.

'Cause, you know, that's when the fun really starts.

4 comments:

Jessie Spalding said...

dude-elliot totally did this, too. you are totally right, it's the not being able to communicate thing for sure. it most def. passes. ugh i HATED when she would hit me.

The Gearys said...

Oh, Sara, I heart you so much! We've spewed many the same sayings over in this house, too. Don't get me started about poor Griffin! These crazy toddler boys. I am hoping that our girls really will be sugar and spice and everything nice:-)

Janet Scott said...

Actually, it's only 36 weeks although it may seem like you've been pregnant for 63 weeks.......

Remember, as I've heard you say to Sam on many, many, occasions - "you're doing a really good job." XO

kscott said...

Sam looks so much like Luke in this picture! Am I wrong?! Can't wait to meet Audrey, Sar! Good luck in these next few weeks! Sam will be the best big brother ever! xo