Boys are Crazy!

Boys are crazy.  I mean girls get such a bad wrap when they hit their pre-teen years but boys are crazy way before that.  I spend most of my time with my son keeping him from trying to kill himself.  There is no talking sense to a boy when it comes to the basic physics of gravity... or inertia.  Just yesterday I watched him swan dive off my couch on to the tile floor just as I was saying for the 14th time "do not jump on the couch you are going to fall."

It seriously looked like this.  I watched
the whole thing.

Gravity works.

Now add to the already explosive nature of a boy the dramatic drive that he gets from his mother and you get a walking disaster waiting to happen at any moment.  And that moment seems to come more often to then not.  Why, just yesterday I was at the gym.

Ok, so I live at that gym.  Not because I am totally dedicated to keeping healthy, (giggle, now that is funny) but because they will watch all three of my tornados for up to a glorious two hours!!  Oh yes, I love my gym.  Anywho, I was at the gym and my two hours was up (sob) so I was getting my kiddos and getting ready to go.

My drama queen, decides that he wants to be carried to the car just like his baby sister.  Well, I say to him that is just to bad because I worked on arms today and that is just not going to happen.  He takes that opportunity to collapse to his knees in the doorway, no doubt, and starts sobbing hysterically.  Meanwhile I'm carried a diaper bag, my gym bag, my youngest and I'm trying to grab my oldest by the hand.  And now I have to figure out a way to get my screaming son to the car...  In the parking lot... where there are other cars...

Fortunately, the entire staff at the gym knows me and is aware that there is no immediate threat to security and that this is just one of his many meltdowns.  No need to call DCF here.  But I am still stuck with a screaming child.  I finally manage to get him under control when one of the nursery staff ladies places my son in my arms along with everything else I am carrying, and I make a bee line to the door.

You ain't playing Plato.  You don't play.

Some where between the kid care and the door (which is roughly ten feet from each other) my drama queen decides that he has to go visit the staff at the front desk and when I don't immediately turn around and make my way he turns into the Tasmanian devil right there in my arms.

So just to keep the tally going, I'm carrying a diaper bag, a gym bag, a 15 month old that doesn't walk, a screaming, wailing, tantrum throwing 19 month old that can walk and my oldest is just trying to hold on to any part of my that isn't going to be kicked by little feet.

I make it out the door and about a quarter of the way to the car before my son miraculously turns into Vaseline and is now slipping down my body.  I have nothing else to hold on to other then his hair and I know that's not going to hold him, so he eventually drops to the floor.  In the parking lot.  DANGER DANGER!

At this point I am trying to get to point A (the gym) to point B (my car) as quickly as humanly possible  since we are now past the point of no return and we are in the parking lot where there are a lot of old people who can't see out their windshields on a good day.  So I do the only thing I can do.  I grab my son by the back of his shirt and carry him the rest of the way like a duffle bag.

They are insane behind a wheel.

I have come to the conclusion that kids need to come with handles.

Finally, I make it back to the car and my son has kinda stopped screaming since the air was being cut off by the collar of his shirt and I just start throwing kids and bags in the car while my son collapses on to the pavement for the second time.  I figure I've got some time before he recovers so I start strapping kids into the car.

Well, he decides to take that opportunity of distraction and darts into the road.  My heart sinks and I am on my feet faster then I thought possible, diving into my son before he makes it past the parked cars into the road.  Now he is back to screaming while I am screaming about the merits of staying with your mother in a parking lot and why don't you ever listen to me and is it really so bad here with me that you have been spending every single moment since you were placed in my arms trying to kill yourself!

Now I am wrestling the child into his car seat as he cries so hard he is now gagging and so close to throwing up all over himself that I'm just trying to make it out of there without getting vomit on my person.  That's when my husband calls.  "Hows your day going?"

"You don't really want to know."

But all ended well.  No one got dead, I didn't have to kill anyone and everyone fell asleep on the way home.  Which is literally 3 minutes from the gym.  I guess I could probably avoid another meltdown if he just gets some sleep.  And you know what I say to that?

Maybe you should sleep through the night!

Antenella