Saturday, August 11, 2012
Don't Have A Cow, Man!
It's always fun to remind the eldest of some of his gold medal toddler tantrums. The eldest had the most epic meltdowns. Unfortunately, the SJG had no Olympic training for these events. I couldn't keep it together on the balance beam, no matter how hard I tried. At first, I'd try my soothing voice. "It's okay." "You're okay." I'd say, "It must be scary to feel like that." And then, I pretty much went ape-sh*t. Maybe if I'd said, "Don't have a cow, man," he would've giggled and stopped. But this catch phrase never came to me, probably because the thought of having an actual cow was too painful to consider. Giving birth to a baby was hard enough. But a cow? It hurts just to think about. So, when the eldest had a cow at Travel Town, and screamed all the way to the parking lot, I had a cow, too. When he had a cow at Cirque du Soleil, I had a Milk Dud and pretended I didn't know him. That was a good day. Do I miss his tantrums, his complete and udder cows? (See what I did there? Forgive me.) Uh, no. Over time, he learned to control his monstrous temper. Over time, I learned how to handle my sh*t better. And, if things go according to the SJG Life Plan, God willing, the next cow anyone near and dear throws will arrive courtesy of one of his children. If there's any justice in the universe, the eldest will father a cute carbon copy of himself. If karma works its magic, the eldest will call me up sometime in the future, and say, "Mom! He's having a cow. What should I do?" At which point, I will say, calmly, "I have no clue, honey."
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