The Reckoning...

Rhys has lost his ever-lovin' mind.

It was bound to happen eventually.  Boy or girl, they all have to endure The Reckoning.

For Aubrey Kate, it was a year long process of coming to understand she was not in charge.  She still has her moments.  Like the first six weeks of school when she was miserable because there were RULES and, simply, she did not like them.  

She knows she has to follow them, though.  Like when she paints at school and I say, "That sounds like fun!"  And she says, "No it wasn't!  You know I don't like to wear the smock!"

But she wore it.  And, thankfully, according to the teacher, she wore it without protesting.  

She's awesome.  

The Reckoning worked for her.

Now, it seems, it's Rhys' turn.  

Truthfully, his behavior drastically changed when Meme and Buddy were here and he just never got back on track.  Once the crib transformed into the toddler bed, my sweet baby boy transformed into a nasty terror.  

Last week was awful.  

This week isn't shaping up much better.

It's the expected tantrums.  Over things like getting dressed or picking up toys or being told no...for any reason.  

The difference is his TYPE of tantrum.  He is extremely physical.  He kicks and hits and throws.  Last week, he pushed and kicked and BIT and shoved me.  I can honestly say I have never been both so angry and so sad at the same time.  There were times I had to physically hold him just so he wouldn't hurt himself (or me, for that matter) any further.  

Today he refused to get dressed to go pick up Aubrey Kate from school.  And his refusal isn't a NO and crying.  It's all those physical things to prevent me from getting him dressed.  There are times when not getting dressed...or wearing his sister's clothes...aren't really a problem.  We can wear most anything IN the house.  But going out in 60 degree weather requires CRAZY things like pants and socks and a shirt.  

Insanity, really.  

He's strong so it takes every bit of strength I have to dress him when he doesn't want to be dressed.  

And before all the Love and Logic-ers raise their hands with the solution, let me tell you I give him options.  He picks a shirt and I give him two pants options to match.  But when he picks Option C, his sister's blue sundress, well, he loses the chance to pick that.  And a true strong-willed child will attempt to push that will regardless of options.  

And Rhys is a true strong-willed child.  

I read Dr. Dobson's book when Aubrey Kate went through this.  I remember recognizing that she was a strong-willed child but she was also acting like a toddler.  The children he describes have to be physically restrained in some instances.  They will scream and kick to physically force their will.

This is Rhys.

In those moments, I feel like a completely different person.  I finally understand the term "seeing red."  I literally feel consumed by anger.  Some at him but mostly at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

Why are we having a tantrum over wearing pants?  I don't get it.

He's not tactile like Aubrey Kate.  At least as far as I can tell.  Right now, he just doesn't want to do what he's asked to do.  

I did the same thing with him that I did recently with Aubrey Kate's clothes.

Took out every single item that...

1)  Didn't fit

2)  Isn't in season

3)  He won't wear 

At the same time, when I'm feeling so angry, I'm so saddened.  I adore this boy.  He is my snugly, loving, full-of-kisses, precious little man.  He climbs in my lap with a book in one hand and his milk in another.  He nuzzles deep in my arms.  Begs to be prayed over.  Can't sleep without having The Rhys McCullough song sung to him.  

All that disappears entirely when his teeth are clamped down on my hand.  

Chris came home Tuesday night last week and I literally broke-down.  Ugly crying.  Physically and emotionally completely spent.  So far, I have experienced absolutely nothing as draining as spending an entire day disciplining a toddler.  All. Day. Long.

The closest was the day Aubrey Kate scraped her knee and cried for 8 solid hours.  That was rough.  Mentally and emotionally.

Rhys adds the extra step of "physical."

Because when I put him in timeout and he KICKS the wall, hurting his foot, I have to step in.  And now that I know what he is capable of, I'm trying to prevent it all together.  I don't want him hurt.  

He has to learn how to control his anger.  Somehow.

I thought a good deal about whether or not to post any of this.  Opinions are endless when it comes to raising children.  And judgements for doing something other than the recommendation of the Opinion Giver are just as endless.  

But I want my children to know.

One, because, God-willing, they may be parents one day.  The Reckoning will come for their toddler too.  Maybe they'll look to me for guidance.  Maybe not.  Either way, here it is, Littles.  You, too, were once a challenge.

Two, because I want to remind myself this too shall pass.  I look over at Aubrey Kate and know it will get better.  Both of my children are strong-willed.  Likely because both of their parents are as well.  Being so can be a blessing.  My prayer has always been for God to use it for His Glory.

Which leads me to three, I need to be grateful for it.  One Sunday morning, Sunday before yesterday I think, Rhys got my exercise ball out of the laundry room.  It's as big as he is.  He rolled it from the laundry room, down the hall and into our room.  But it wouldn't fit through our bathroom door.  Good thing because our bathroom isn't that big.  Chris and I watched in wide-eyed wonder at Rhys' determination.  He was going to get that ball through the door.  He wasn't frustrated.  Just flat determined.  

Chris distracted him with tickling just before the frustration hit.  

Rhys has always been determined.  Bold.  Focused.  When he wants something, he can become singularly focused on making it happen.  When I pray over him at night, almost without fail, I thank my Father for those traits in Rhys.  They will serve him well and, I pray, serve His Father and His Kingdom well.  

These same traits are now making life difficult.  I pray...plead, beg, cry...for God to teach me how to parent Rhys.  He certainly knows him better than I do.  And He knows my own fears and feelings of inadequacy in guiding my son.  Only He can provide the answers.  

So forgive me for not writing.  For maybe missing a text message or two.  For giving presents hastily wrapped without bows or anything Pinterest worthy.  I'm raising a man of The Most High King.  It's taking all I can give these days.  Really, more than I have to give.  God has to fill in the gaps.  And there are oh so many gaps.