The Bitching Hour
Every day, around 5pm, my angelic little pigeon-chaser becomes a satanic warrior. With a vendetta. He’s possessed and cannot be stopped.
Books, once delicately handed to me with a smile, become weapons to throw in my face. Hands that only hours earlier, reached for me to help him down the stairs become karate choppers and food smashers and eyeball scratchers.
My solution to this “issue” in the past has been a trip to the gym. Because the gym has daycare. And daycare equals freedom. Until recently. These days Archer refuses to hang with his daycare peeps.(It may have something to do with the fact that the daycare lady is rocking her Le Peu once again. Merd.)
Instead, I get all dressed up in my thong spandex jumpsuit and L.A. Gear high tops, pumped to work out with my PM Dawn remix music and my three-month old Vogue (I’m a little behind) all for nothing. Because daycare has apparently become Archer’s version of hell. He clings to me like a monkey, choking me with his death grip.
And so…
My mission results in failure:
Zero hours of freedom. Zero calories burned. Zero fashion tips to ponder.
Back at home I try fighting fire with fire. If he screams, I scream louder. Except instead of “making a point” I make him laugh. And nothing gets my goat more than being laughed at when I’m trying to be dead serious and angry.
So… I’ve had somewhat of a revelation:
Why not give up?! Throw in the towel?! Embrace the bitching hour and the shitstorm that comes with it?! Because if I can’t have my peace, I may as well join the war, right? Right?
So now? When the bitching hour is upon us, I throw a party. I empty a box of Cheerios on the floor and turn on Sesame Street and Archer and I have a giant Cheerio throwing/crushing/destructive extravaganza. Which isn’t exactly a workout, but it’s becoming one of my favorite times of the day.
Making a mess. Making fun of Mr. Noodle. And Dorothy. And Elmo for saying “thank you, baby!” even though the baby never does anything worth thanking.
Hopefully, one of these days, I’ll be able to get a workout in. But for the time being, making a mess and vegging with Arch on the floor with a squillion cheerios and Elmo’s World is kind of a little bit awesome.
***
You have to be a hipster mom to get into a Cheerios battle with your toddler in your own house!
JUST KIDDING. That is very cool of you though. Whatever the hell you want to call it — hipster or not — it’s cool. The perfect resolution to the bitching hour!
So… want to babysit my kids? They would absolutely WORSHIP you!
What a great idea – seriously. I get the pre-dinner eye-scratching, hitting, hair-pulling, satan built my hotrod hour and maybe I just need to give in… I’m giving it a try.
And those pics – gah! He is mind-blowingly beautiful. And edible. And rockstarish.
During that time, I make my kids watch Dr. Phil. I tell them that if they dont behave I am going to ship them to his house and they will have to listen to his catchy one liners all day, everyday.
They straighten up real quick and leave me to hide in the bathroom. My library.
1) whoa! his open mouth pic is right next to your open mouth pic and you are twins! who says there’s no resemblance? ha!
2)there are no tears in that first pic. you got played sucka.
Dude, I ADORE you. What a great idea. Not nearly often enough do I manage to tackle my kids’ shitstorms in such a fun and effective way. Usually I’m just being mean to them…
Making messes is stress-relieving fun! Glad you found something to end the battles. BTW, I *love* Archer’s shoes! What brand are they?
The shoes are See Kai Run and they’re our favorite. They’re super cute, they don’t scuff and are reasonably priced. We have several pairs and the ones he is wearing are from the Fall/Winter collection: http://seekairun.com/products_2.php (“Jack” is the style.)
At least you’re getting some exercise in!
Yeah, good luck with that work out thing! That’s about the same time that R. started having fits with the gym daycare — I finally gave up until she was in preschool and I could go when she was there! My version on embracing our inner demons!
Sounds like fun. That’s when I usually throw on her shoes and shove her out the door, uh, I mean, we go outside to walk or play in the yard. Kills that before bedtime meltdown mode.
If the vacuum weren’t pure evil in her eyes I might have to give that a shot.
Have you considered making that time of day bath time? Lots of shampoo/bubble bath to make bubble beards and hairstyles, water guns, splashing — kill two birds, etc. When my kids were that age I sometimes let them paint each other with tempera, in the tub, before turning on the shower, so by the time they were ready to be washed they were painted from hair to feet. The slightly illegal feel made it irresistible to them.
David