This Mommy was down this week.
I'm not sure what hit me. It was one of those fevers where you can feel the actual air molecules pinging into your skin. You know what I'm talking about. It followed with some sinus pressure and some swollen glands and just some general nastiness.
We made the decision for me to stay in a type of quarantine. Which, if you know me, was miserable. I really didn't have much energy to do anything, but I absolutely hate being confined to bed. Although I can't deny the extra sleep was nice.
Even worse than not being productive, I didn't get to spend any time with Turtle.
He would wave at me from the door and blow kisses on his way to his room or downstairs. He said that he loved me and missed me. He asked to snuggle me in bed.
Oh, it was heartwrenching. I just wanted to scoop him up and hug him tight and never let him go.
Thirty-six-ish hours later, the fever broke, I got a burst of energy and managed to rejoin the family.
One would think that Turtle would have been thrilled when I picked him up from school and then made a quick lunch run. He was tired, but didn't feel like napping, so MacGyver took him to Target for some quick errands and he got a Buzz Lightyear jack-o-lantern topper. Then he had his favorite turkey and cheese roll ups and apple slices for dinner with a ginger cookie for dessert. AND he got to watch some of Polar Express, new on the most-beloved movie list.
I mean, by anyone's standards, it was one hell of an afternoon.
So, of course, I was only slightly thrown when I asked him to please use the restroom before his shower and he responded with a rather unpleasant "No, I am NOT going potty!" which segued into the following...
"No, don't EVER wash me, Mommy!"
"This is MY facecloth!"
"This is MY soap!"
"Don't touch MY stool!"
"I don't WANT you to help me get dressed!"
Seriously. I dragged myself out of bed for this.
We managed to discuss his unkind words and he seemed to snap out of it, until I committed the cardinal sin of throwing out his flosser. You know, because even though he had walked out of the room and was headed to bed, he clearly still wanted to be the one to do it.
Why, oh, why, couldn't I have read his mind?
Of course, this cycled into a new bout of
"I don't WANT you, Mommy."
"Don't come in my room!"
"NO story tonight!"
"Don't talk to me, Mommy!"
I mean, seriously. He's three. Going on fourteen.
So. We had another little chat. About how it's important to be kind and sweet. And how it's ok to be frustrated, but that didn't give him the right to be mean and hurtful. And that I hoped he slept well and made better choices in the morning. And that I loved him, but that I didn't like how he was acting one bit.
And after the door was closed and I took my ten (or fifty) deep breaths, I told some mom friends about it. Of course, there was general commiseration over the age and the completely unwarranted 'tude.
But there were two who shared the same thought: that Turtle was maybe acting out because I had been out of commission. That maybe he was frustrated or upset that I hadn't been around for two days.
Of course, it makes perfect sense.
But, then again, REALLY???? It's like cats when they get pissed at their owners for going on vacation and urinate in their shoes. Only I'd much rather the punishment of a pair of ruined flip flops than the heartbreaking sting of some of the words with which Turtle lashed out at me tonight.
It's not personal. I know that. He's finding his voice and his boundaries and learning to express himself and a million other normal developmental things. It doesn't lessen the hurt, of course, and I'm just going to have to thicken my skin a bit.
I'm hopeful that tomorrow is a better day and we're back to my sweet, loving little boy.
I also now understand why Moms never seem to get sick. Tis better to work through a fever and headache than weather the wrath of a scorned three year old.
Next time, though, I hope he goes for the shoes, instead of my heart.
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