Discipline dilemmas

We sat on the living room floor together, pulling the play kitchen utensils out of their box.  I named each one as Theo picked it up.

Spatula.  Whisk.  Tongs.  Ladle.

“That one’s for soup, like we just had for lunch,” I told him.  His eyes lit up, and then, without warning, he leaned over and whacked me in the face with it.

The cute little metal ladle that I got a year ago from Ikea made contact with my face right above my eye.  I felt like he’d rammed it straight into my skull.  I backed away immediately and began to cry.

It’s been over three and a half years of parenthood, and I’ve had my hair pulled, my face scratched, my stomach kicked, my entire body used as a jungle gym by small boys.  It takes a lot to make me cry, but it was just the perfect spot, I guess.

Theo sat speechless at my response.  Sebastian asked me in a panicky voice, “Why are you doing that?”

My voice came out much calmer than I expected it to.  “Because that really, really hurt.”

He came over and hugged me, and I wiped away the tears before turning to face the offender.

Who smiled at me.

I sometimes think that God gave me this particular second child just to make sure I never get a false sense of security that I know what the devil I’m doing at this parenting job.

When Sebastian was a toddler, a sharp tone was all it took to get him to stop doing something.  It wasn’t long before he stopped throwing food on the floor, climbing up on the table, hitting, or biting.  He is challenging in many ways, but discipline is not one of them.

Theo, on the other hand, has been throwing food at the end of every meal for months now.  We can’t seem to get him to stop, because every logical consequence I can think of just doesn’t faze him.  He doesn’t care if we remove him from the table, because he only does it when he’s done.  He doesn’t care if I have him help to clean it up.  Nine times out of ten he tries to eat it while cleaning up, which just leads us to more frustration as I definitely don’t want him to develop a habit of eating food off the floor.  Can you just imagine him doing that while we have lunch at Panera Bread?  Or at the airport?  UGH.

Then there is all the physical stuff that toddlers do: hitting, kicking, biting, pulling hair, throwing hard objects.  He does it all, and laughs at every consequence we give him.  LAUGHS.

He is lucky he is cute, that is all I have to say.

I promise you, I have tried every single thing in every single book that I can find.  Nothing has worked yet.  I just keep holding out hope that it’s like sleep training: I have to be consistent and respond the same way each time and eventually it will stick.

Meanwhile, I am aggravated that Sebastian is now copying Theo’s bad behavior, resulting in time outs for him that cause much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

I am embarrassed that my son is behaving like a hooligan.

I am baffled by the fact that after hitting me, he will immediately hug me, as if to try to erase what he just did.

Mostly, I am tired of disciplining.

I know, that’s a lot of what parenthood is.  But lately it feels like that’s all it is, and even when you’ve got your strategy and you know your way, that is tiring.  But when you feel lost?

Well.  It’s hard not to shed a few tears.