Toddlers Are Assholes... And I wouldn't Change It For The World!!

When I hear couples are expecting, my initial reaction is to congratulate them - what wonderful news! They are bringing the miracle of life into their own little world. What a magical experience.

My happiness and joy for them soon vanishes, and a smugness fills my heart. For after the newborn phase, the crying, the night feeds, the shitty nappies, the weaning, the crawling... they will start to see light at the end of the tunnel.

Then, overnight, something happens to their little cherub. The gorgeous little smiling bundle of joy will be replaced by a screaming, bad tempered, irrational pint sized sleep terrorist that doesn't know what it wants, but it knows that it wants it now.

Now I've raised three toddlers. Not easy.

The first one, I still had that new mum vibe about me - I'd get embarrassed when he kicked off in public (not that he did that very often), and I'd do anything to make him happy.

I hardened up with child two and three; so by the time I was expecting Tommy I was a seasoned pro at dealing with the old toddler tantrum. This would be a breeze.

What the hell did I know.

Now as you will have read previously, Tommy wasn't the easiest newborn to deal with due to reflux and colic, and there are several Rachelle head - shaped holes in the walls dotted around the house. But we got through that phase, and things started to calm down.

Then, overnight, seemingly delivered by the tooth fairy, they came. Without warning, without a Haynes instruction manual, and without reason. They came.

The Terrible Two's.

Now when God was creating the Toddler he must have been having a really shitty day, and decided to take it out on parents. Cheers mate.

I have dealt with my fair share of toddler meltdowns and the various reasons for them. However, my Tommy is in a different league altogether. I have more than met my match with this one, and whoever wished upon me a child like me can kindly go and f*ck themselves.

Just to give you an idea of my day to day encounters with Tommy, here are some of the reasons for tantrums over the last few weeks -


I put clean clothes on him in a morning.

I gave him the bottle of milk he asked for.

He didn't want the bottle of milk he had asked for.

He wanted to watch Peppa Pig.

He didn't want to watch Peppa Pig.

He didn't want the blanket that was nowhere near him.

I wouldn't let him put his porridge on the TV.

I wouldn't let him put his spoon in the toilet.

I wouldn't let him feed the fish the fridge magnets.

Despite his best efforts, my knee will not bend backwards.

I won't let him do his yoga on the coffee table.

Grandma lets him do his yoga on the coffee table.

He didn't want to get in the bath.

He didn't want to get out of the bath.

I wouldn't let him drag a baboon into the car at the safari park no matter how many times he put the window down.

He wanted to go on the swing at the park. I put him on the swing. Tommy did not want to be on the swing.

My eyes do not come out of their sockets.

The plug sockets are not a place to put his toy trains.

I wouldn't let him eat all of his advent chocolates on December 1st.

I couldn't bring the moon down from the sky into his cot.



The list really does go on.....

Now Tommy is the youngest of four boys. This is both a blessing and a curse.

The good parts? He always has someone to play with, They entertain each other. All three of his big brothers absolutely dote on him. He is sensitive and loving. If he sees a baby he will tell everyone to be quiet and stroke them whilst covering them with a blanket. He is so sweet. He loves nothing more than to sit with his Brothers and me and Ian and read a book together. He has no fear. Of anything.

The bad parts?

Due to the rough and tumble nature of their play, and the fact that Tommy is an absolute unit, he thinks absolutely nothing of going straight in with his nut to any child who upsets him. Headbutting is his current favourite past time, and he has no idea of his own strength.

The other boys find it very amusing when Tommy learns a new word, and it sounds like something completely different. For example, at the farm, Tommy saw some chicks. Whilst Tommy thought he was saying 'chicks', he was in fact saying 'dicks'. Cue uncontrollable laughter from the eldest child who made it his main mission to point out every sodding chick on the farm resulting in me dying from embarrassment in the guinea pig pen.

Just like every other toddler, he enjoys shouting out things at the most inappropriate moment. Tommy doesn't know what 'fat' means, but he had heard the word, remembered it, and chose to shout it out whilst we were stood next to a rather generously proportioned lady in the supermarket. Again, cue laughter from the other children which made him do it even more. Sod. My. Life. It took all my strength to not sit in the spirits aisle downing bottles of pink gin.

His most recent achievement was at nursery. We introduced the potty a while ago after Tommy started telling us when he had had a wee. Its not hardcore potty training, but it's there when he feels he wants to use it and we don't push him. However he will tell us when he has been in his nappy, so of course we praise him. Imagine my delight when I collected him from nursery to be told that he had told his key worker that he had had a poo! How did he tell her? Did he say 'Tommy Poo poo?' No. Did he point to his nappy? No. Did he say 'Tommy potty'? No.

Did he reach into the back of his nappy, take out the offending poo and head over to his key worker with a massive grin shouting 'Ta'??

YES.

There's another one for the baby milestones book...

If anyone needs me I'll be in the spirits aisle at Asda; I'll be the one crying into a bottle of gin with my child shouting 'Fat Dicks' at random passers by.