de*pleted

I started writing this post last week, when one of the worst days I could imagine was a day in which neither child felt like sleeping. It seems completely trivial now...to be complaining about being exhausted. Especially when I have two healthy/mildly happy boys, a wonderful husband and the scariest thing to happen in our little rural community is walking by the homeless lady on Stockton St, hoping she doesn't touch my kids faces again. I wanted to post happy today, but it just hasn't been that type of day. So go ahead and read this or watch this... The internet is pretty great for bringing happiness into our world today....like that Mr. Roger quote that has been splashed all over facebook (who knew TV was even around when he was a kid).

Maybe I'm emotional from all the news coverage from the past 24 hours. I tear up every time I think of that eight year old boy running to give his dad a hug. I can't stop thinking of his brother and sister, or his whole family for that matter.

But really, I've been on the verge of tears for the past three weeks. This time was bound to come, the time where I didn't think I could do it anymore, that time is right now. I'm just completely, utterly depleted.

My two year old is an absolute terror. We've created a toddler monster. He's acting entitled, demanding, helpless and heartless. He refuses to put on his shoes because they are "too heavy." He shoves toys into his Mack's face and then complains when Mack accidentally touches him with one of his failing arms. Every toy is "mine." And the temper tantrums are so loud and dramatic, the neighbors can hear him from the street.

Just last week, Nick asked him to go to his room. He opened the front door and ran down the street.
Today, when I sent him, he swatted at my face. It seems the more public the venue, the more he acts out.

On top of the meltdowns. Boys are gross. And when they are two years old and playing with their pee parts, even grosser. Pee is smelly. And poop is just plain nasty. Thankfully, they are all going in the potty. But I still have to wipe his butt and the toilet and the drops on the floor...and it's just crass.  I wish I could wave a magic wand that cleaned up our once spotless bathroom. And vomit! He projectile vomited baby oatmeal on me last week. Wait? What? Yeah, because he insisted on trying Mack's breakfast. I said no, he proceeded to throw a fit, so I let him try it. Yup, ground oatmeal mixed with breastmilk...all.over.me!

This was the consequence for today's two hour fit. Yeah. TWO hours! He was dog-piling Mack with pillows when I asked him to stop, he sat on the him. Yeah, I realize, "they're boys." But one is pretty defensless right now, so someone has to be on his side. He lost all his stuffed animals and blankie. It seems to be the only repercussion that affects him.

I have no idea what we are doing wrong, but it's exhausting. My patience has hit rock bottom. I'm praying this is just a phase and our lives will resume some normalcy in the new future.
Mack...I really feel sorry for this boy. He is still as sweet as ever, even with all that green snot coming out of nose, but his needs are currently taking a backseat so the louder, smellier, more chaotic version of the gene pool.

I always knew the second born got shafted a bit, right Mom?