cat named pig

My heartfelt thanks to everyone who responded to yesterday’s post. In addition to the comments posted, I received multiple e-mails and some of you probably just sent some good energy our way, because we had a lovely, and violence-free, day today. As a stay-at-home mom, I have a lot of time to hang out with my own thoughts, especially regarding parenting decisions, and that one was weighing on me. So it was really nice to get some outside (of my head) perspectives, and some encouragement. 

It was also interesting to hear anecdotes from other people’s childhoods about consequences and lessons; several people shared very specific memories of times when their parents carried out a threat and got their point across. And no one seemed particularly upset or resentful of their parents as they retold these stories, which is very encouraging!

I know now to only make threats I am actually willing to carry out (duh), and I should know by now never to be surprised when my kids bust out a new negative behavior in a public setting, just to keep me on my toes. I mean, Elliot’s just getting started. . . . 

I think Siena knew she had crossed a line yesterday, and I think she learned something from the experience, even though I didn’t go through with making her miss the class. She might not remember this incident in thirty years, but with any luck, I won’t either. This wasn’t the biggest event in the whole world, but it’s a good example of the way these little guys keep constantly changing the terms of the deal on you. I thought we had worked through hitting/biting/physical violence when she was one and two; the amount of time we spend embroiled in complicated verbal negotiations these days had led me to assume we were past the physical issues, when WHAM. Literally. 

But then this is the same child who will spontaneously drop what she’s doing and run across the room to give me a surprise hug. And sometimes out of nowhere she will say, “Mama? I love you,” and it almost sounds like a question. Like she’s just saying it to hear me respond, “I love you, too, Sweetie.” (I guess not all testing is bad.) 

And last night at bedtime, Siena asked if she could put Elliot to bed. I wasn’t sure she could manage the logistics on her own, given that he’s almost as big as she is, but I let her sit in the rocking chair and give him his bottle before I put him in the crib. She rocked him and stroked his hair, and gave him soft kisses on the top of his head. He beamed up at her, even pausing his milk-chugging a few times when it got in the way of his smiling. (He never pauses when drinking milk. He never pauses when drinking or eating anything.) 

I know these two are going to challenge me in every way possible for years to come, individually and as a unified force. They will team up to unravel my mental stability, and then they will turn on each other and make my ears bleed with the sound of their fighting. I know this. But, man, are we all crazy about each other.