I might be raising a monster

Holy crap my son is terrorizing my house!

So, at first it was cute; he wanted to play in the Tupperware. We locked up the cleaning supply cupboards and let him putz around. He moved onto the pots n pans cupboard, and we had a cute afternoon of him and Lola sitting in the kitchen making “soup.”

Then I had to lock up the Pyrex cupboard. Glass is less adorable to play with. Oh, and shoot, we better lock up the cupboard with the food processors, sharps! This was getting less cute. It’s not cute when you have to pull locks off the cupboards every time you want to take out some crackers or a bowl, or worse, when you want to throw something away. And that damn sweet baby wants to be held all the time, so you’re trying to unlock the cupboards while completing everything with only one hand. Let me confess, there has been more than one time that garbage piled up on the counter until there was enough to bother unlocking the cupboard for.

Then he found the toilet.
Every. Single. Time. The opportunity comes up- slap, slap, slap- little crawling hands and knees making a beeline for the toilet. He wants to splash in it. He wants to float his bath toys in it.
He wants to chew on the remote controls. He wants to push all the buttons on the cable box. He wants to disassemble every nightlight he can find. He wants to tip over the humidifier EVERY DAY! He wants to dump out my purse and toss the recycling around the kitchen and fondle all the kitchen utensils and he really, really wants to eat Lola’s Polly Pocket doll who is now always missing her head.

I haven’t been able to take a peaceful morning shower in months. Even when I lock up the cupboards, I have to find something to put on top of the toilet. And then I often have to take most of my shower with one foot up on the tub side holding the curtain closed to prevent Corbin from opening it up and getting the floor all wet, or throwing stuff in. My favorite was when he finally got tall enough to reach the wastebasket that we had been putting up on the back of the toilet. I peeked out of my shower to see Corbin sitting amidst the garbage sucking on the insides of a Butterfinger that Lola had tossed in there (probably because the kitchen garbage was locked up) after eating all of the chocolate shell off. I totally finished my shower before leaping to action. Don’t judge.

I lament to my mother that I don’t think it was this bad with Lola. She assures me that it was, and briefly my mind flashes back to the time I found Lola using the cup I rinsed her hair with in the tub to scoop up toilet water and drink it. But here’s Lola’s slightly-less-monstrous distinction: Lola wanted to play with everything and anything. If she was getting into something really bad, I would just distract her with something else fun, and she would move on. Corbin is obsessed!

He wants whatever inappropriate plaything he wants and he REALLY wants it. Not some poor substitution. Not his new foam blocks. He wants Lola’s hairbrush dammit! And he has a bit of a crying fit when he doesn’t get it. And I now worry like crazy about what kind of tantrum throwing brat I might be raising.

But the worst part is- sometimes I cave! Too often! I just can’t take the crying anymore, and if letting him dump out and crush every last dixiecup means I can actually both wash AND rinse my hair today, well, what’s the harm? If letting him chew on the remote this time means I get five more minutes of peace at 5am, well…..no one tell my husband on me!

But I’ve got to figure out a better strategy. Because this morning I let him rifle through the bathroom cupboard until he found the nail polish. But then when I tried to stop him, he flipped. So I got ready for work with my knees pressed firmly against the cupboard doors while Corbin threw a fit. Because he had experienced the glory of digging through my old curlers and biting on hair dryer attachments and now he would not. Be. Denied!

What am I gonna do with this kid? Seriously. Someone tell me. Because tantrums are something with which I will not put up. I’m just not cut out for that crap.

The best part about that picture is that I actually put the pasta back in the box and back into the cupboard! Just so Corbin can play with it next time. I’m such an enabler.

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9 thoughts on “I might be raising a monster

  1. Oh, this is my son. Sons, I should say, because the baby is shaping up to be just like his brother. As I have warned my husband 1,000 times, if you let Miles do something once, be prepared to let him do it over and over again, every day until he gets bored of it – so yeah, if I don’t want him to play with something he must NEVER touch it. The “babyproofing” just goes on and on as he gets taller and taller. You should see my pantry; there is NOTHING on the lower shelves. All my cabinets stay locked. The fridge is locked. The dishwasher is locked. It is ridiculous. I just try to completely prohibit some areas so it’s never a question, and then give unrestricted access to other areas so I don’t have to say no forty billion times a day.

  2. Oh my word, I have never experienced anything like that. My sister-in-law put a bunch of junk in one lower cabinet of her kitchen for her son to play with, pretending like it was something he should not play with. But that kind of reverse psychology is hard on my brain. Plus, unless you make every single cabinet into junk that he could play with and have a separate house for the stuff he cannot play with (all toilets would be in the separate house), I don’t know how long it would take before he’s bored with the one okay cabinet. Gah, I feel for you!

  3. I have been there. Everything and anything that shouldn’t be touched. Sigh. It *is* exhausting. And my first was also much more easily distracted than the second. Where do they get this sense of entitlement to throw a fit because they want to play with YOUR things?!?! ARGH! *sigh*
    Oh, they’re fighting again. Ta ta

  4. I’ve re-arranged the bottom cabinets so that Fae can dig through the trash bags (which now live in a big paper bag instead of the box), and I also keep dish cloths, dusters, and other exciting things like that for her to get into. All of the cleaning products are now over the sink. It’s just too much work to keep her out of the cabinets! I guess I’m a bit of an enabler too, but at least the babies are having fun. šŸ™‚

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