A couple of days ago J made a study of pushing boundaries, all day long. I surprised myself by patiently enforcing the rules over and over again, and not getting mad. At one point he got sent to his room for some time to think, and he was up there just fuming. Saying, "I HATE her!" over and over. Two guesses who, "her" is.
It's such a funny thing. I remember being that angry (over what, I don't remember) so clearly. I can see the grain of my bedroom door I was sitting right up against and feel the texture of the carpet. I remember hoping that she heard me say it. I felt for him, it's hard to know what to do with all of those feelings sometimes. I know it isn't true (as it wasn't for me), and I am glad to have that memory to aid my perspective.
Twenty minutes later he yells downstairs, "Mom, I am ready to come downstairs now and be nice to you and NT." Then he inevitably, 'needs a hug'. Who doesn't?!
Later he "helped" me make dinner and in the middle of that he looked at me so intently and said, "Mama, I love you." I already knew that, but it sure was nice to hear.
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