I haven’t written in the past two and a half weeks because my children’s behavior was so bad, I simply couldn’t find the humor in it. So bad. Like I wanted to return to April of 2006 and start all over, with a little, “wait honey, we can’t, we don’t have protection.” I can only imagine what life would be like…..frozen margaritas on the beach in the Maldives, movies watched in the theater and lazy Saturday morning bloody marys.
*moment of staring at my wine, yearning*
Anyway, we went on Spring Break. Whoever decided that “break” should be in that sentence is laughing their ass off somewhere because there was no break whatsoever. It was me, two kids, no husband, my sister, her three-month old, no sister husband and my parents. Do you see where I am going here?
Did we have a good time? Absolutely. We drank large amounts of wine. We dared to take the children to breakfast, lunch (there was beer) and dinner (there were margaritas). My sister’s superwoman baby rolled over from back to front at 2 months and three weeks. She will therefore be referred to as Superbaby. My father, in a unprecedented moment, actually heated the pool for a week. We swam, we sunned, we caught up and it was the first time the whole family had been together since the craziness of my sister’s wedding (which was 1 year and 5 weeks ago for those that are wondering about Superbaby–hello Argentinian honeymoon!)
I never really realized how much Max depends on structure to his days until this trip. And Zoe too. By day five of no school, random wake-up times, no structured plan for the day and no daddy, he was a friggin mess. An absolute hot mess. He was utterly rude and disrespectful. Throwing tantrums of unbelievable proportions over the fact that I wouldn’t be in the pool at his beck and call for 4 solid hours.
And then there was Zoe…
At the end of the week, my parents were exhausted. Superbaby didn’t sleep a damn wink. My sister was a zombie. She informed her husband that she was never going on any sort of vacation without him again. And in the usual superb Olson fashion, I got into a giant argument with my parents three seconds before I left for the airport. The end.
Little did I know that the best was yet to come. Getting ready to take off. Plane is booked. Utter silence. I innocently ask Max to stop kicking the seat of the man in front of him. Armageddon. He proceeds to punch me in the arm. What? Um, this hasn’t happened since he was about three. I try the strategy of ignore and don’t bring attention to it. More punches. WTF???? He literally loses his shit. Screaming that I’m a bad mommy and this is the worst vacation ever. Hitting, scratching, kicking, yelling, and glaring at me like a wild jungle cat. I was mortified. I finally got him calmed down, completely aghast. Two seconds later, he’s asking me to play Uno with him as if I hadn’t just been competely abused by him. I informed him that boys that behave that way do not get Uno games with mommy. Gee, guess what happened next? he said, “okay mommy, I understand, I’ll just play with my cars.”
More out of control, hopped up on steroid like shrieking. Insane punching and hitting. The people around me looked absolutely horrified and I wanted to stand up and say “I swear he’s usually not violent!!” It was awful.
I thought it was perhaps a one time thing, but this behavior went on for another week. Rages like I have never seen. Taking things away doesn’t make a difference. Sending him to his room doesn’t make a difference. Canceling a playdate/soccer game doesn’t work, etc, etc, etc. We thought it was because he hadn’t been in school and dad hadn’t been around but now he’s been back in school for a week and dad has been here. Things were slowly starting to improve and then we went on a playdate today and he literally got on top of his friend and started punching him! Seriously??? He has NEVER done something like that to a friend. Yelling obnoxious things? Absolutely. But physically hurting them? Never.
What the hell is going on??? He’s argumentative about everything, yells constantly, kicks, hits, screams and absolutely won’t listen to reason. I am at my wits end and literally can’t even stand my own child. At one point last week, he screamed he wanted me to die.
Any advice or ideas would be much appreciated!