Just for me

Lately Finnley and I have been struggling.  Okay, not lately.  It's been a while now.  He pushes my buttons and I have a really hard time keeping my cool.  I find myself being unkind to him, and that's not the sort of relationship I want to have with him.  That's not the kind of mother I want to be.  It brings me to tears thinking of some of the exchanges we've had over the past few months. 

It's fair to say that this year has generally been tough, and my relationship with my 3-year-old has probably suffered the most.  If I'm honest, I could say that I have a hard time liking him most days.  I'm sure the feeling is probably mutual.

Today is one of those days, and it's not even half over yet.  The kids and I went on a thrift store outing, and by the time we got home I had had it with him.  I wanted to just leave him at the store. I sent him to bed without lunch, but first he pooped his diaper- again.  I was convinced he'd done it just to spite me.

On an hourly basis he does things that leave me feeling short tempered and irritable for a long time after.  I find it difficult to use a kind voice and kind words when he does something that completely enrages me (which seems to happen all. the. time). 

I'm so tired of it.  I don't know what will change things, or when it will get better.  I had a glimmer of hope while we were on our road trip last month because, for the most part, he was really, really good.  Not so much anymore.

Maybe he'll grow out of it.  Maybe he needs preschool.  Maybe I need to... something.  I don't know.  Until we figure things out, I thought I'd write about all of the things I love about that kid.  Then maybe I'll remember to like him more.

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I love how much he wants to be like his brother and sister.  He loves doing the things they do and playing with them. 

I love how much he LOVES his baby brother.  He asks to hold him often and always says, "He's such a cutie little guy!"

I love what a goofball he is.  He really loves making people laugh.

I love his imagination.

I love that he still likes to cuddle.

I love how much he loves his mohawk!

I love that he likes wearing hats.  Especially the ones that make old people go, "Nice hat!".

I love that he asks me to sing to him when I tuck him in.

I love how says, "I want to kiss you, hug you!"

I love that when I tell him to smile big, this is what I get.

I love how he'll randomly bust out a southern drawl.  "Let's go over thay-er,"

I love that he still likes riding on those cheesy little rides outside of stores.

(Pretty funny how he's wearing the same shirt and pants in both pictures, even though they were taken several weeks apart!)

I love what a happy kid he is (most of the time).

 I love that, out of nowhere, several times a day, he will say to me, "Mommy, I bewy love you, too".

 

I love how much he likes to eat fruits and vegetables.  The boy could go vegetarian pretty easily, I think.

I love that he can totally rock a pair of yellow rain boots.

I hope no one gets the wrong idea from this post.  I love Finnley and he loves me.  But he's 3 and he's a handful, and sometimes when he's carrying on and on (and on) because he didn't get to cut open his own popsicle, or is laying on top of the baby and practically smothering him for the zillionth time, I just need to remind myself of his redeeming qualities.