joys of motherhood

I mentioned a week ago that Piggle is giving the

his all. We’ve had some good days here and there, but all in all, our house is a war zone. I also confessed to aggravating the issue by having an awful temper, and promised to try curbing my yelling. Over the past week, I have yelled. A lot. BUT! It was nowhere near what it was prior to making my promise. I think there were only two really bad days in total. I’ve noticed a huge improvement in Piggle’s attitude since I’ve stopped flipping my shit as much. He responds better to direction, is less grouchy all around, and hasn’t acted out nearly as much as he usually does.

I still feel guilty for having broken my promise—especially the other day when I absolutely lost it on him for beating Sequel around the head with a teether. That night, I broke down crying because it really was a shitty day. That said, I am really proud of myself for the little progress I did achieve, and I am hell-bent on improving myself further! It actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be. It really helped to have that little voice in the back of my mind to remind me to keep calm.

The Terrible Twos actually aren’t all bad. Piggle has never really been a shy kid (I wonder where he got that from…), but he had a tendency to just follow along with whatever was going on around him. While that was great when he was a baby, I worried that he’d wind up being the kid who got picked on or worse, become such a follower that he started high school with his face in a bowl of cocaine. Okay, so I know that is highly improbable because let’s face it, cocaine is too expensive, but I did worry about his ability to assert himself. Well, I’m not worried about it anymore. In fact, I’m actually kind of scared of him.

Instead of fretting over him being the dorky kid who gets picked on, I am now picturing him beating the snot out of some poor soul for his lunch money. Piggle is a bully! It’s probably a normal phase, but holy hell! His mouth is either going to make him millions or get him punched. I’ve never met a bossier kid, and even I sometimes cower under his demands!

“No, Mommy! Don’t say that to me!”

“No, Mommy! Stop singing!” (can’t really blame him for that one—I sound like a dying cat)

“Mommy, sit down and don’t move!”

“It’s mine! I don’t share!”

and the worst example (and entirely my fault):

“For fuck sakes! God damn it, Mommy. Go to your room! ONE…TWO…THREE!”

Those are just a few of the things that come flying out of his mouth on a regular basis. And Jesus help anyone who doesn’t listen to him the first time! He’s a fucking tyrant!

The thing is, I don’t hate it. I find it hilarious. Particularly because it is very hard to take an order seriously when it is being squeaked at you in a baby voice! Of course, when I laugh, I get a time-out, so I’m learning very quickly to hide my giggles.

I still want to toss him out a window when he throws a tantrum, but at least we still have something to laugh about! It makes it easier to not yell because it’s almost impossible to scream and howl with laughter at the same time (in my case, it ends with me peeing my pants, but that’s a constant occurrence for me anyway).

What’s the craziest demand your child has made?


Woah, Nellie! Piggle has officially hit the Terrible Twos. There have been a few ocassions when I’ve thought he might have hit this fantastic milestone, but looking back, I can see that they were and nothing compared to what we are enduring now. I once said that Piggle is an asshole, and for that, I am truly sorry. I can see now that he was not an asshole—then. Boy, is he ever a jerk now, though.

The past week has been a clusterfuck of screaming matches, UFC-esque punches to my jaw, more “NO”s than I know what to do with, and Piggle-sized fistfuls of my hair being torn from my head. I love this boy more than anything, but he is a dick! Schoolyard bullies have nothing on him! He’s brought me to tears three times!

Of course, I’m not innocent in all of this. I rise to the bait almost every time. I have an awful temper, and I know that I aggravate the situation by reacting to whatever evil shenanigans he’s pulling.

I’m a yeller. I always have been. It is the one thing I hate most about myself. I’ve googled countless blogs and articles to learn how to stop, and all of them gave great advice—which I adhered to for all of 10 seconds. I’m not proud of it, and it takes a lot for me to admit it publicly, but I need help.

I know what to do…just not how to do it. I know that he’d probably explode far less often if I calmed the hell down, but sometimes it’s really hard when the Devil has possessed my toddler.

So here it is: My name is Brea, and I’m a scream-oholic.

Maybe by posting this publicly, I’ll be held more accountable and be more likely to quit. My goal for now is to go 1 week, starting tomorrow,  without yelling. At the end of this week, I will report back with my progress.

Is there any part of your parenting that you feel needs work? Let’s do this together! Maybe we can keep each other on track! Add your parenting confession to the!


If you follow our shenanigans on , you’ll know that Piggle is currently working on potty training. So far, he’s been amazing! His only accidents occur when he’s wearing bottoms of some kind. Naked-from-the-waist-down Piggle pees and poops in the potty every time—except that one time he thought he was hilarious and peed on my leg, but that was more defiance and douchebaggery. Nothing accidental about that.

We haven’t yet ventured away from home sans-diaper because, as I said, if his bits are even slightly covered, he’ll wet himself. There has been the odd occasion when he’s soaked himself in a puddle or exploded so fiercely out of a diaper that we’ve stripped him right down to his birthday suit, and on such occasions,  he’s asked to do his business like a big boy. The problem with those few times was our current location in relation to a toilet’s.

I have always been jealous of boys. They can whip their junk out anywhere the urge arises, and I’m stuck awkwardly squatting against the first solid thing I can find, and usually end up covered in my own piss. I’ve also always wanted to write my name in the snow, but that’s completely unrelated.

Anyway, the point is, we’ve run into a few sticky situations involving a full toddler bladder and no facilities anywhere nearby. I am no marathon runner, being probably the laziest person on earth, and there was no way I was risking being peed on as I hunted for a toilet, so the only solution that made sense at those times was to let him relieve himself right where we were.

Once, we were stuck in a 6708 mile car line-up due to road construction, so I hauled him to the side of the road and let him soak the gravel. Another incident involved a helpless tree at a park, and the third, a closed-for-the-night Subway, its parking lot, and the left rear tire of my car.

Now, I’m sure if anyone had witnessed any of these scenarios, they’d have had all kinds of opinions—none of which I’d have given a rat’s ass about (but that’s just my personality). I’m not one to care about how others perceive me, and frankly, if my kid’s gotta go, he’s gotta go. Of course, I would never just let him pee on a store display or on a restaurant chair leg, but I’m definitely not above letting him whip it out in a public setting.

With that said, I came across this article, written for the Babycenter blog:

While I think her choice of toilet was a bit impulsive and slightly inappropriate,  I can empathize. We’ve only just started our potty training adventure, and I doubt my car tire and a tree will be the only casualties. I probably would have aimed (or at least had Piggle do so) in a more discreet direction, but I can’t judge her for her decision. I’ve definitely panicked when Piggle’s told me he’s gotta go, so I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in the heat of the moment.

What do you think? Was she wrong to do What she did? Have you done something similar with your own child?

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