I don’t need to know that after the terrible twos comes other bad ages. The Terrible Two’s should be called the Tragic Terrible Twatting Fucking Horrible Two’s. That would be a better title.
Right now it can’t get any worse. I know damn well it can always get worse but I’m having a little pity party here right now and I don’t even wish to be reminded of the Fucking Three’s.
I am currently sat on my sofa with a banging headache. My house is a shit-hole.
Tantrums and bad behaviour is not even the right description for today; my child has been absolute hell from the moment he got up at 6am.
Breakfast ended up embedded in my carpet and solidified in his hair.
He smeared shit from his nappy all over my sofa.
He dropped and split a water bottle.
I listened to a friend who told me he is bored; he needs stimulation – that will stop him being naughty.
Lying fucker, boredom has nothing to do with it.
I have tried to encourage games in the garden. The remnants of that epic fail are laying on the patio in a million pieces.
I tried sitting on a blanket in the sunshine playing games. He pissed on the blanket.
I took one piece of dry washing off the washing line. He was in the kitchen tipping fabric softener all over the floor.
I put him upstairs for a nap. He’s emptied his whole damn wardrobe all over his bedroom floor.
The wardrobe I sorted and organised perfectly this morning.
I lost my shit. I threw Scout at the wall. I shouted and I’ve put him into bed and walked away.
I’m having a good cry because I’m at my wits end. I cannot handle today, I cannot parent today.
Why won’t he behave? I have tried every technique I can think of. I’ve asked nicely, firmly, gently. I’ve counted to three, he’s been on the naughty step. Every fucking thing I do he just laughs in my face.
My head is pounding and I can’t stop crying.
I cannot understand how you have to sit two tests to drive a bloody car yet you have no test or manuals before bringing a baby home and then raising it.
I decided to pick the laptop up and write this post because I’m at my limit and this is one of those really ugly bits of motherhood and parenting that no one tells you about. I would take a really stressful day at work any day over this.
No friend of mine ever told me how bad you feel on days like this.
I’m jealous of hubs; I wish I was at work, I wish I worked full time. And then thinking that makes me cry more as it sounds like I don’t want my child, the child we wished and prayed for for so long. But it’s not easy this parenting lark, it’s so fucking hard.
When I wake up in the morning my aims for the day is to raise my son and look after my house.
How can two really simple tasks be so fucking hard some days?
It’s a beautiful sunny day and it’s a terrible thing to say but it is true – his behaviour has ruined the day.
I really thought we had reached the end of this shit phase. Hubs reminded me last night he is already two and a half.
Great, we have another six months of this shit to endure.
This feels even worse than the time I lost my shit and swore at him.
Parenthood, you are a great big fucking shit and I hate you right now,