Wednesday, 20 February 2013

Terrorist Negotiations

"You know, this whole camouflage thing, for me, doesn’t work really well....Because if you go in the jungle, I can’t see you. You know, it’s like wearing stripes and plaid. For me, I want to do something different. You go in the jungle, make a statement. If you’re going to fight, clash. You know what I mean? "

Robin Williams, Good Morning Vietnam

Having a toddler is pure psychological warfare. No lie. This past week I have been reduced to tears almost every day as our boy engages me in a full-frontal battle of will.

I am a pretty straight up person. I like to confront my issues head on and am happy to talk about anything at anytime - lay your cards on the table and know where you stand. It is only now that it has become clear to me that with a toddler you can't just chew the fat and say it like it is over a glass of wine, a cup of coffee, or a bottle of milk. It is a war dance. A very lonely solo dance that I am really just mildly guessing the steps to.

I know that our Son is about to experience his first surge of testosterone. 
He is asserting his new found independence and is frustrated as he can't express his emotions verbally, so has to chuck a tantrum - this I get. I am fully aware that he is pissy at me because I am the one who dumps him at daycare two days a week so I can work from home. I realise that he wants to only be with fun man Dad who is at work most days and comes home when it is time to rumble before bed. The control freak in me is aware that I have to just let things go (obviously to a point). And I know not to take it personally, and should appreciate the time out that I get when he prefers his Father as a playmate. But it is heartbreaking, and I am navigating my way out of this minefield blindfolded, trying not to scar him emotionally. Dig deep. Find strength. Poker face. I would make a really bad POW.