Three's

God help me.

I don't think I can survive this "phase." Every single flippin' day I walk away from bedtime, wondering who in the hell this child has become and swear he isn't a product of our parenting.

2 was hard. 3 was harder. 3.5 is f*cking OFF THE CHAIN.

It wouldn't be a stretch to call this boy a sociopath, or bi-polar.

The last two months have been rough -- to say the least.

This isn't the normal kid stuff I've dealt with in the past. This isn't a few fits in the grocery store. This is being prepared for battle every minute, of every day. You never know when the switch will flip and when it does? You better be ready.

At home, his mood changes hourly, and I can't keep up. Today, he asked for peanut butter bagel for lunch. I asked him if he wanted it toasted. He said no. I asked again, just to be sure -- insert failing arms and crocodile tears. Why? He wanted it toasted, duh?

At school, he pinched August's cheeks and blew a raspberry in McKinley's face. His reply, "It's okay, Mom…it's okay." NO! It's not okay, kid. Get a flippin clue!

Don't get me wrong, he has fleeting moments of sweetness. But when I say fleeting, I actually mean fleeting -- as in, really brief. And this is actually where I'm really struggling, because why can't the boy just be content? His life is so freakin' great! We love him so much and we tell him that constantly. He KNOWS his good choices make our hearts happy. SO. Why the hell is he acting like this crazy person?

He's impulsive, aggressive and emotional and not the kid I've set out to raise as a contributing member of society.

I'm so disappointed and tired and sad.

I hate you, three's! Save us, please!