They All Turn On You.

I just put a Babybel wrapper in my mouth. I was eating a handful of carrots and was down to the last carrot, when I started scooping up trash from the kids' lunches off the kitchen table and turned to throw it away. In the middle of this, Harris was screaming at me. Because, lately, he is Always. Screaming. At. Me. 

And I became distracted while attempting to place the last of the carrots in my mouth and instead placed a Babybel wrapper in my mouth.

But I didn't eat it. So that's a sign I haven't completely lost my marbles.

I was scared to have Harris. I'm scared to have any babies, but after having two girls, the thought of a boy scared me. But he has been the sweetest kid ever. Super snuggly, super loving, super flexible and go with the flow.

My girls started going through their terrible 2's at around 18 months and continued through it until they turned 4. With Harris, 18 months went by and he was as sweet as ever. 19, 20, 21, etc. months. and he is the best. We feel really lucky to have him.

Still, I wondered if he would turn on me. Because all kids do. I was hoping he was the exception, but I started to sense that his time was coming. I even whispered in his ear all along the way, "Don't be like the others." You think I'm joking, but I really did do that. I was begging for him to be my easy kid.

But about 3 weeks ago, Harris woke up different. He just screamed and screamed at me, no matter what I did. He went boneless when I tried to pick him up from the childcare at the gym. He threw food on the ground, not a typical "I'm all done so I'm gently tossing this food aside" but rather in a  "I'm going to pelt this PB&J at your head because I want to insult you and your ancestors" sort of way.

I dread when he wakes up in the morning and from his afternoon nap. Because he is the most mad at these times. And he wants me to carry him around from room to room. For a split second I thought I should indulge him and show him how attached we are and all that biz, but my pregnant back cannot carry this brick for the HOURS he wants me to carry him around for. I quickly learned that.

So I'm teaching myself to be zen with the crying. I try to appease him when I can and try to carry on when I can't. And I remind myself that crying means:

1. Harris is alive.
2. His vocal chords and lungs work.
3. Ergo, I am blessed.

His recent change in behavior makes me all the more nervous for when No. 4 comes. I'm going to have to be so zen it kills me.

Go figure that one out.

The End.