I know I have been banging on a bit about hormones and testosterone but man oh man oh man. I am at the stage where I wake up going ‘What new hell am I going to face today?’
It’s Spring time here now, longer days, the smell of jasmine in the air, warmer mornings – I love this time of year. I have been getting up and walking The Moose and this week Monkeyboy decided he wanted to get on his skateboard and come with me. No dramas, actually it’ll be nice hanging with him. So I get up, get sorted, get The Moose and am ready to go. Monkeyboy has to find his outfit – skinny jeans, long sleeve shirt, t-shirt over, Converse shoes, skateboard and helmet. Shouldn’t take to long right – ah no I’d be wrong there. Suddenly my nice peaceful morning is not starting out as planned. I’m getting impatient, The Moose is jumping out of his skin with excitement (50kgs of him) and finally Monkeyboy is good to go. It’s pretty quiet around that time and then he starts with,
‘Mum check this trick out’
‘Mum, wait for me’
‘Mum, you didn’t see it’
On and on it goes and not in his inside voice (oh hang on, what exactly is that?) the lovely morning peace is slowly slipping away…….
He’s a funny beast the 8-year-old (soon to be 9 if he makes it) Monkeyboy. Moomoo is really quite sensitive and empathetic towards others, Monkeyboy well lets just say not so much. When Monkeyboy loses his shit, it is always someone else’s fault – Translation: My Fault. Examples:
Can’t find his hat, socks, toys, drink bottle, football, helmet – yes he is the only one who wears them and leaves them lying around but I must have tidied up therefore I moved them and put them in the right spot and he cannot find them because they are not where he left them – man oh man oh man….
Or when I actually try to have a joke with him. It starts out all good then he takes it personally so I am a bad mother for teasing him and I am mean and I shouldn’t have said that about him – man oh man oh man…..
Or when I say No – well that’s just to bad he reckons, I don’t care if you have said no, that’s not acceptable to him and then he will keep on and on ‘Why did you say no?’, ‘What do you mean no?’, ‘No? are you serious?’ And he will keep on and on trying to understand why he can’t do something or have something – it gets to the point where I call in the Big Guns – enter Mr Cruisey.
So basically, having a bat shit crazy 8-year-old in the house (and the 10-year-old is up there too) there is a lot of the following going on in our house:
1) Lots of yelling – ok mostly from me because he is trying to argue the point and I am just getting frustrated and lose my shit. Not the best thing in the world (poor Mr Cruisey has pointed this out to me – gotta love him) but man oh man oh man…..
2) Tears – from me. Look, I know this is going to look bad but well, I use emotional blackmail sometimes – it’s out there now, I can’t take it back, don’t judge me because I reckon y’all do it at one time or another! Anyway, with Monkeyboy, it don’t work! He is a rock!
3)Reasoning – This is a new one I am trying. I gave it a whirl this morning and somehow I don’t know exactly what happened, he ended up making me feel bad and got his own way – well after much grumbling I will add but he got his own way. Conclusion: Leave the reasoning to Mr Cruisey – way better at it than me.
4) Tickle fights and farts – because really no matter what, I made em, they’re mine, they are cool cats and I love em to bits.