Drastic Measures

I have always known that I let Big Brother get away with too much. People even make sure to let me know just how much. It didn’t bug me when he was an only child. I had the energy and the time to deal whatever it was he could throw my way. If he wanted to go play somewhere we could just jump in the car and go. If he was getting mouthy or running away from me I could catch him and carry him out to the car. If he wanted to throw a fit and scream at me I could let him get it out. It didn’t bother me, in the end he was only wearing himself down.

Now that Little Brother is in tow I can see how much more Big Brother is trying to get away with. At first we gave him slack. It was a big change for him. We didn’t want to make him feel too put out. Oh you want to dump your cars all over the living room floor? Sure, just let me feed this baby and get him to sleep. You want free reign over the tv? Sure, just let me get these dishes done. You get the picture. I was giving in to more and more to the child who takes three miles when you give him an inch.

Now that Little Brother is six months old I am really paying for every single time that I had OK’d something or let Big Brother get away with for the sake of sanity in my sleep deprived state. Now I have no excuses. Little Brother is sleeping through the night and taking naps on schedule. I can see the hole I have put myself in, and it is a deep hole that I might need a back hoe to dig my way back out of.

It seems to me that at times when I put my foot down I was arguing with a four year old to the point of exhaustion. How do kids get that smart? I used to be so proud that my son was smart. Now I am just getting told off and the punishment never seems to fit the crime. Time outs practically stopped working for two reasons. One being in Big Brother’s mind the crime was worth it, the punishment never even seemed to phase him. Two being he would take note that Little Brother was sleeping so if I didn’t give him his way he would get so loud yelling and crying that he would inevitably wake his little brother up on purpose.

Now there is no more slacking. And as sad as it seems for poor Little Brother to be woken up through out the day I have to tell myself it’s better in the end. Ok, I’ll admit at times that I am late for a pediatrician appointment or the store is going to close if I don’t leave in two minutes, I give in so Big Brother will just get in the truck. I do feel that it is a little too late for me. Especially when the behavior I am trying to stop or avoid becomes a full-blown in my face theatrical moment for innocent bystanders to see. Since Big Brother has been out of school a few trying days have come my way. I will share a few with you that happened in the last three days.

One day while shopping for shoes at the mall Big Brother decided that the “Stay where I can see you” rule his dad OK’d meant him at about the food court and me running from about JCPenney. When he did stay close he was running all around the store yelling just because I told him to chill out and use his inside voice. After telling Big Brother that we would not be playing in the arcade because of his behavior he whipped out about three dollars worth of arcade tokens from his pocket. Still trying to catch my breath and save myself from maybe two minutes of more humiliation I gave in. Little Brother needed to eat. To this day I park as far away from the arcade so that if Big Brother isn’t listening I can go right back to the truck. It’s hard enough pushing a stroller with one hand and trying to wrangle Big Brother back to the truck without him having to go by the arcade. A screaming kid’s voice really echoes through that food court.

Another time we were visiting a park and Big Brother would not come when I told him it was time to go. Finally I decided I was going to get Little Brother and his stroller in the truck. I needed my hands free for my plan. I ran into that play structure and caught a screaming and flailing Big Brother. I carried him to the truck as fast as I could and buckled him in. He of course kept unbuckling himself, screaming in my face, and trying to get out of the truck. I put the child safety lock on and just drove. My house seemed so far away this day.

Big Brother hates onions. I don’t know why one day he began to hate them because he used to eat them raw when he was younger. When we get a Happy Meal he always orders the same thing,:A cheeseburger with no pickles and no onions. The sticker on the burger even said NO PICKLES, NO ONIONS. This time Big Brother didn’t say anything to me. It wasn’t until we got a few miles down the road that I noticed there were onions and pickles on it. I don’t mean on the burger now. The pickles were stuck to the window and the onions were decorating Big Brother’s car seat, the seat next to him, the back rest behind him, and sprinkled on just about everything else in the back seat. And yes this was the week I had actually spent an hour cleaning the truck out. These are the times that you ask yourself ,“Why do I even try?”

I took Big Brother to the library. He would not do what he said he was going to do. He would say he wanted to go do puzzles, but then run off as soon as I sat down with Little Brother. He would then start to play games on the computer only to decide he wanted to go back to the kiddie section. Then he wanted to check out the museum. But what he should have said was run around scaring me half to death that he was going to break a display or run into a glass case. I’d tell him to stop and he just would run more, jump up and down and taunt me with, “I will if you catch me” Here I am holding Little Brother trying to keep up with Big Brother just about to throw in the towel. I give him an ultimatum. Either you cut it out or when we get home I am going to lock up every toy you own! He of course doesn’t believe and just continues to do whatever he wants to do. Which feels like embarrass me and make me look like a fool. Basically he was just running me.

On the way home he kept yelling from the back seat, “Are you taking my toys?” I wouldn’t answer him because I knew the answer would make him just wail. Finally after the fiftieth time he asked the same question I asked him a question. “What did mommy say would happen if you didn’t listen to my words?” He mumbled, “Take away my toys” I was tempted to ask him if he listened but didn’t. I looked at him through the rearview mirror and saw the look of sheer panic cross his face. He started to cry and say, “I’m sorry, but mommy I love you.” As sad as it was I knew I had to follow through with my word. That’s why he doesn’t care what I say.

After his dad got home from work I had to tell him I locked up the toys. That only educational stuff could be out. Markers, crayons, construction paper, floam etc. Big Brother has really changed his tune now. I just did that last night but all day today every time he talks back or tries his usual bossy antics I remind him that he is trying to earn his toys back. My grandma really thinks that Big Brother is “bad”, insistent on the idea that kids who get spanked listen a lot better. That if I would just swat him that would do the trick.( She used to swat us with a flyswatter). I can’t hit him. So here I am resorting to drastic measures.