One of those days

It was Thursday morning, 8:01 a.m.
I awoke to the sounds of a ransacking happening in the bedroom next to mine. Loud crashing noises let me know that items we’re being thrown around the room. I was afraid of what I would find when I looked in the room. So I made my husband look in for me instead.
A frantic little boy was trashing his room in search of an item no bigger than a penny - the clone trooper helmet that belonged on one of his Star Wars figures. When told what had happened, that the contents of every toy bin was spilled upon the floor, that blankets and pillows were strewn across the room I made a choice. I chose to battle and it would prove to be a mistake.
Count Dooku was told he would not leave his room until he had put it back in order.
I reminded him that lost toys are better found by picking up than messing up.
I told him that if it meant he was in there all day until he picked it up, that was fine by me. Of course I didn’t mean that. I fully expected him to have it done by lunch time. I fully expected my threat of being in the bedroom all day would have an effect. That was my mistake.
Lunch time came and went. He ate his sandwich at the table and then proceeded back to the room. The room that was just as messy as it had been at 8:01 a.m.
He kept finding excuses to come out.
“Obi-Wan is bugging me!”
“Obi-Wan hit me!”
“Mom, I have to tell you something important!”
“I have to pee!”
“I have to pee!” 5 minutes later.
“I have to pee!” 10 minutes later.
He even locked himself out his room 4 different times (on purpose of course)
And with each little excuse for a 5 second out of room time I became increasingly frustrated. I felt he was taking advantage. I felt he wasn’t doing a blasted thing to clean up like I expected him too and so the little excuses and frustrated thoughts kept building and building. I should have known what would happen.
I blew a gasket. He locked himself out of his room once again and that’s when I lost it.
I yelled at him to get back to his room, and not to come out at all and to get that room clean or the toys he didn’t seem to want to take care of would be going to another little kid who would take care of them! Then I slammed the door.
And then I cried, because I haven’t exploded like that for a long time. And I hate the way I feel when I yell at my kids and make threats I don’t mean.
Though I felt bad I hoped it might be enough to let him know I meant business. But an hour later, at 4p.m., he had done nothing.
I felt stuck. I wanted that room clean then but I couldn’t do it myself, I couldn’t give in and say forget it after all that time, and I didn’t really want to get rid of his toys.
So I marched in there with a trash bag and started picking up the toys that I knew were his favorites. I told him they were going away for a week. He cried as I left the room with a trash bag full of toys. (It took him seeing the Gobble Bag effect to move him to action)
In the end, it was enough to get him to pick up. But I felt horrible. We were both exhausted emotionally. It was a battle I should not have picked. I usually don’t. I normally have everything else clean but their room but I was so mad at him for just ransacking everything I wanted him to pick it up right then. To know that it was not okay to do that.
I don’t think he got that message. When I saw the room was a mess again this morning though, I sighed and walked by it. I will be getting rid of the toys they only like to make a mess with, and I will still attempt to teach them how to clean up after themselves, but I will be firm in the beginning and not allow little frustrations to build and build till I explode. A poem I wrote some years ago describe my feelings best:

The Battle Within

Seasons change and so shall I
Under Heavens watchful eye.
The better path, though realized
Is often narrow or disguised.
Ever yearning, ever seeking
Endless havoc in me wreaking.

Over contemplative sessions
Wielding forth my true confessions.
Earnest pleas for better being,
Now my heart within me fleeing.
Someday I may make the measure,
Of the me I long to treasure.

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August 3, 2007 | Filed Under Motherhood

Comments

6 Responses to “One of those days”

Susan M on August 3rd, 2007 2:44 pm

Boy, have we all been there. It’s funny how we want to intimidate our kids into doing what we want and yet they just do whatever they feel like. :)
movingmama on August 3rd, 2007 9:11 pm

Been there, done that, bought the shirt several times…okay, more than several. Sometimes it’s not that I shouldn’t have picked the battle, but how I fought it wasn’t the right way. For instance, my son has been learning to ride without training wheels for months. It was going no where, he was frustrated, I was frustrated, it became my life goal to get this kid to ride the stupid bike. I became mean mommy, and I felt awful! It was so silly. And then it came to me, and I finally “tricked” him into it. I told him a really long story about a little boy who went to school with a watermelon up his shirt (?) while he was riding, and let go, and kept running next to him and he did it! He was so distracted, he forgot to be afraid. I wish I had put on my creative thinking cap before I took out my mouth!
summershine on August 3rd, 2007 10:20 pm

Sometimes it’s not that I shouldn’t have picked the battle, but how I fought it wasn’t the right way.

That is part of what I was intending to say but it didn’t quite come out. Nor would it likely have come out as well. :)
I definitely fought that battle the wrong way.
Oh and distraction is a great technique for kids in certain situations. Glad you figured out a way to help him ride his bike. I’ll have to keep that in mind when I start teaching my son to ride a bike.
Janice on August 4th, 2007 12:35 am

It may take 10 times vefore he “gets” the gobble bag theory. Some kids(mine) are stubborn plus they only hear what they want to hear.

It’s very hard. I have cried like you before. Hang in there.
Jennifer @Chronicles of a Night Owl on August 4th, 2007 7:08 pm

First, I must say - beautiful poem - what a gift you have there!!

Choosing the battles is difficult, and then going into the chosen battles with the correct game plan is even harder. I have messed up more times than I can count, and I’m sure there will be many more to come. I try to make it a game with my little one when it comes to cleaning - but she’s 2. I’m not sure how old your son is. There are lots of ways to encourage them, but you may have to experiment to find what works best. I hope you both can find a happy medium with the room!
Corrie on August 4th, 2007 7:20 pm

That’s a tough one. I hate it when I say something and then I really must stick to it or lose ground. Turning stuff into power struggles is really hard on everyone. I need to stop doing it.

Glad to hear your gobble bag is working

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