Frustration at Every Turn

Oh Nick's cute alright but that doesn't make it ok for him to kick me in my diaphragm (hard) as I'm changing his shitty diaper.  And when I put him in time out for it, he yelled at me to "STOP TELLING ME!  STOP ASKING ME MOMMY!!" 

Excuse me??? 

Stop asking me is his way of saying "stop telling me what to do."  Kicking me??  IN the gut??  While I was wiping his ass???  Over the line. . . .waaaayyyyyy over the line.  He was throwing me so much attitude.

Not fifteen minutes later he was ramming his fire truck into my bare foot.  I looked down and told him to stop because it hurt me.  He did it again.  I told him to "Stop that. I don't like it."

He. Did. It. Again. Little Fucker.

I ripped the truck from his hands, and put it on a high shelf.  He put his hands on his hips and told me to "Stop telling me."  He looked me right in my eye and told me to stop ordering him around.


This morning he was eating his cereal from one of those bowls with the built in straws.  He apparently decided he was done and began forcefully blowing his milk - through the straw - and across the table at his brother. 

I walked over, took his bowl, dumped it in the sink and the made him clean up the table while he cried (with tears and everything) about how hungry he was and how he wanted his cereal. 

I'm a real bitch I guess, because I told him that hungry children don't play with their food.

Last night he ORDERED me to get off my own couch because I was sitting in his spot. (Please note that his so-called spot changes every minute from one spot to the next)  "GET UP MOMMY.  GET UP.  MY SPOT.  GET UP!"  I sat there and told him that it was my couch and my house.  I scooted over so he could sit next to me which he eventually did, but only after screaming at me for five minutes. 

I've really had it with this little defiant streak he's going through.  I'm all about promoting his desires for independence but he better learn to treat me and my home with respect. I'd rather he learn now than try to teach a nine year old (or worse a teenager) boundaries.

Yesterday the boys were racing around the living room when Lucas shoved Nick into a table mid-run and caused Nick to get a huge red linear welt across his chest.  Nick recovered from the chest injury and ran and jumped onto the dog bed, slamming his little head into the wall so hard I'm surprised there wasn't a dent.  I kissed that boo boo a BUNCH.  He seemed to recover enough for me to convince him it was time to get in the shower.  I took his little hand and led him into the bathroom and as he walked through the door he walked right into the door jam.  And cried all over again. 

He is just having such a hard time.

And Lucas is being so helpful and sweet lately.  I've heard myths and legends about 4 year olds being a welcome relief from the 2's and 3's (3's are worse than 2's in my experience so far).  And so far the age of 4 is AWESOME.  He is able and willing to be so helpful and sweet.  He helps Nick with his shoes and toys.  Lucas is so thoughtful and caring lately too.  He gives Nick hugs and helps him find his water if he looses it. 

But . . . I still have to get Nick through the 2's and 3's and to be totally honest I'm a little scared. A little voice in my head tells me I haven't seen anything yet.

One of the good things:  The boys scrubbed down my shower a couple nights ago with baking soda and brushes.  They did a great job and I have a clean shower too!  And they seemed happy to help which was nice.