With Mad Dog away this week things can get a little hairy around here. I tend to be slightly more stressed which in turn means my boys are out to get me. Well, not really. It only feels that way. My stress adds to their stress. The only difference is that the world sanctions their tantrums. Mine? I have to keep to myself or share lovingly with my husband when he returns home. Lucky him.
T.Puzzle has not disappointed this week. He is in top, tantruming form.
I have seen so many of these episodes over the years I have lost count.
Or it’s possible my boys have worn me down so much, I have lost my ability to count.
In Mad Dog’s soccer history, which believe me is full of fascinating tidbits, while he was aggressively thundering through his high school career, he never ever got kicked out of a game. Yellow card, yes. Booted? Not once.
Well, times change. Mad Dog got himself booted from the last game of T.Puzzle and Full Speed’s season. It didn’t matter that he was the coach. He. Got. Booted.
It was the strangest thing to watch. Parents and spectators alike were beyond befuddled. One minute the game is going along smoothly, the next the referee marches off the field and Mad Dog takes to the bench. Eventually, he had to remove himself completely from the field. Apparently the ref couldn’t even stand to look at him.
This particular referee and Mad Dog had developed a contentious relationship over the course of the season. She didn’t like to consistently follow the rules and Mad Dog consistently questioned this logic.
I live in a house of questions. If one boy isn’t asking me something most surely another one is. These questions can be polite, that isn’t the issue. Sometimes it’s the quantity of the questions that wears on one’s sanity.
I’m not saying Mad Dog wasn’t right to want rule consistency for his team. Asking about it a lot did little to help his case. So what happened?
He got booted.
I have to admit, he handled it like a gentleman. I’m sure most in his situation would have gone off the deep end when asked to leave the field. He did what he was told and remained calm.
On the flipside parents were outraged. Some began to chant, “Win it for Coach!’ Which to the shock of all in attendance, our team actually did (we were like 1-5 at this point and while we have heart, we lack in pretty much anything else required of good soccer).
We may have played mostly unskilled and unremarkable soccer throughout the season, but friends, this is a season that will go down in history.
All Moms are familiar with the phenomenon that when one of your children is out of control, your remaining children become eerily angelic. This is helpful because having one kid lose it is more than enough.
Then, there are the special days. The days you are convinced that your children made some sort of evil pact to share the burden of dreadful behavior equally. Those are the days where all you can hope for is that you don’t lose your cool enough that the neighbors alert the authorities in some capacity.
First, it started with T.Puzzle. He called his brother a ‘diaper head’ and ran screaming away and hid in a corner when I punished him for the name-calling. I took away all of his stuffed animals and Thomas blanket and he screamed, “You’re mean!” at top volume. This was later followed by a meltdown about sharing a toy riding car. I had to carry him kicking and screaming to his room for punishment.
I could already feel how special the day was becoming.
He eventually pulled it together.
Great, I thought. Now we can enjoy this awesome weather with friends and look forward to our dinner out with Mad Dog.
Well,.. Full Speed decided to get in to the act. He was glorious in his sassiness, which started because he lost a game of Red Light, Green Light. The unfortunate power struggles and tantrums that ensued culminated in him screaming, “I never want to live in this house again!” Oh, and he also hit me. A knock-down, oh-no-he-didn’t veritable knick-knack patty-whack across my back.
We didn’t go to dinner (foiled again!!!), they went to bed so early I’m pretty sure I heard the faint whisperings of the five o’clock news in the background, and I dropped to my knees and prayed to my God (Supernanny) for guidance.
Some days are good, some days you wish you ‘never want to live in your house again!’, and some days are better when they are over.
Like nails on a chalkboard. That’s the only way I can describe T.Puzzle’s onslaught of questions concerning his assorted punishments. I picked him up from school and when it was time to go, he decided that he wasn’t in the mood. He dragged his sorry self down the hallway and folded into a heap of sorrow about half-way down. I informed him that he would lose his crocs for tomorrow and would be sent to his room when we returned home. He screamed at top volume all the way home. This only lengthened the amount of time he would be spending in his room, expedited his bedtime hour and contributed to a loss of his other privileges.
After I managed to get Full Speed off to tae kwon do with Mad Dog, I allowed a seemingly defeated T.Puzzle to come to the table for dinner.
“Why can’t I have my Thomas (the Train) color book?”
“Why can’t I have my animals?”
“Why can’t I have my crocs?”
“Why can’t I have a treat?”
“Why can’t I watch TV?”
“Why can’t I stay up late?”
“Why? Why? Why?”
I tried to ignore him, but my ears couldn’t take it. Not after all the high-volume screaming they had already endured. I tried to tell him to be quiet. I tried to calmly explain the reasons for the loss of his privileges.