Let me tell you about my Monday morning this week. It was one of those mornings where I was distractedly doing several things at once, none of them particularly well. As I searched the house for L’s shoes, I collected laundry for a wash and refilled S’s tray with Cheerios each time I passed. I started the wash, realized we left the shoes outside the night before, and fetched the crying baby out of the high chair. She promptly spit up all over me completely coating my jeans. I put her down, took off my pants and added them to the wash and headed out the door for the sneakers. Click went the lock behind me.
You’re kidding me! I tried the door. It was indeed locked. I heard L laughing on the other side, and the baby starting to cry. I was not wearing pants. It was 40 degrees.
This is where I learned a valuable lesson: when your 3-year-old locks you out of the house, and himself and your baby inside the house, you should use a nice voice while calling through the door for him to let you in. If you use your angry voice, your child may become afraid and run off to hide. This prolongs the time that you are outside, in the cold, half-dressed. Further, when you realize what’s happened, and you become more and more anxious and irritated, do not use your even angrier voice.
Oh! How I wish someone had told me that before! Livid, pants-less, chagrined, and anxious I shouted at the door a series of threats and mean promises, loud enough for my hiding son and surrounding neighborhood to hear. Then I pulled out the big guns. The only thing that has any impact on L. “I’m going to tell Daddy about this!” This brings him running, crying and begging for me not to. He lets me in the house so he can beg properly. I want to throttle him.
You see, my child couldn’t care less if I am angry and annoyed with him, but to upset Daddy is unthinkable! This is not because my husband is a strict disciplinarian or anything like that. It’s simply because L worships his father and doesn’t want him to be irritated in the least. At this point I’m apoplectic. I’m mad he locked me out in the first place. I’m mad at myself for ever giving him the opportunity to do that. I’m mad that I was outside without pants on (who does that? I have neighbors!). And I’m so mad that this child of mine cares so much about disappointing his dad but gives no second thought to me at all.
I think to myself: it’s a good thing it’s a school day, so this rotten kid has a fighting chance of seeing tomorrow at all. L knows how angry I am and behaves like a perfect angel as I drive him to school. He’s full of pleases and thank yous and I love yous and I’m too pissed off to care. But, I put on my normal face for drop off. No one can tell that a few minutes ago I was a crazy mother locked out of her own house half-naked; that in my incredible maternal incompetence, I allowed that to happen, leaving my 3-year-old and 7-month-old locked inside alone.
Then, of course, as soon as I pull away from the school I am overcome with grief and guilt as I realize that it’s all my fault (isn’t it always?) and not at all his (well, maybe a teeny bit) and I swear I’ll be nice-mommy when I pick him up.
See, the thing about being a mom, is that I feel bad even when my kid does something wrong. I feel bad when I react to it. I just always end up feeling bad! Is everyone like this? Is this just part of the secret underbelly of parenthood that no one talks about? I swear, living with a 3-year-old is an exercise in insanity. Each moment is a surprise and a contradiction to the moment before and the moment next. I look at my sweet baby and think: don’t learn from him. Please never stop being so simple and sweet and easy to love. But I know she will. Soon enough, it will be her job too to drive me to crazy and back every minute of every day.
Ok, ok, I’ll take him! You clearly need a break from your 3 yr. old hellion. Whoever thought up the “Terrible Twos” didn’t have a 3 yr. old yet!!
I’ve been thinking a lot about that. And I think the reason why the 3′s don’t have the same cache as the 2′s is because parents of 3 yr olds are just too beat down to come up with a fetching title.
Allison, I just finished reading this post to dan. As we drink a glass of wine and lament how we never have time for anything anymore, we certainly had time to laugh at this post. I can relate to everything you write in it, thanks for the humor. Looking forward to future posts.
Glad I could provide a little entertainment! I’ll do my best to keep ‘em coming.
Crap. I want to laugh at this story, really I do – but all I can do is become overwhelmed with fear for what is ahead. Yeah I do think the terrible twos are the worst…. but that’s just because I haven’t hit the threes yet… wtf indeed.
Maybe your threes will be easier. L was an awesome 2 year old. A difficult 2.5 year old. And, well, now he’s sleeping and he’s the sweetest guy ever.
i have read this at least five times. i am crying it is so funny.
CLASSIC!
My own two perfect children locked themselves in my bedroom while my grandmother looked after them one evening. How proud I was to come home and hear how my sweeties laughed and spewed sarcasm at their great-grandmother while (with her nice voice I am sure) tried to get them to unlock the door.
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LMAO! Says about all of it, after my extremely exhausting and exhilarating hectic evening with my own two hellions I was glad to read this and laugh till i cried. It was so funny. You see, when my youngest was an infant and my oldest was 2, we had just moved into a new bigger house, well the landlord failed to tell us that the back door locks instantly when shut unless you push the lock in and turn it. Its some stupid thing some idiot made up so that you never have to worry about if you locked the door to your house. Well anyways, i not knowing anything about this, have just heard the garbage truck early one morning, completely forgetting to set the trash out the night before, i remembered the instant i heard the truck. I went running outside in my pjs and t-shirt with no coat on in the freezing cold February in Wisconsin weather. I obviously shut the door behind me. Well after i got the trash to the curb barely just in time, i went running back to the door, grabbed the knob and to my complete shock it was locked. I did everything, wriggled the door, pushed on it, slammed my body against it EVERYTHING. It wouldnt budge, so no panicked and freaking out because my infant was in the house alone and my two year old was sleeping upstairs still i frantically ran to the neighbors, no answer. Ran to another neighbors, no answer. Finally the last shot was two older ladies living across the way from me, i ran over there and they let me use the phone, i called the police who came out and once again tried all the things i did because apparently my trying them was not good enough. i was just about to mention busting out a window when he recommended calling the fire dept. Now, bear in mind, i had JUST moved to this neighborhood about 2 days prior. There was 2 cops, and now a huge fire engine outside my home, all because i couldnt get into my house, i didnt know my landlords number, and calling my husband wouldnt have mattered as he had no extra keys anyways.
To make a longer story shorter, the fire dept had to “strech” my door to my house in order to bypass the lock and get me into my house to my now screaming 2 yr old and infant. My husband has still never let me live this down as when we moved out of that place to an even bigger place in the country, we had no choice but to replace the streched door. LOL Now everytime i go out my door, I always make sure i have KEYS on me !!! LOL
I just started subsribing to your blog and I’m already hooked! Wish I would have been reading these all along! Thanks and keep the stories comin’!