Emotional teething

As I hinted in my last post, life has been less than picturesque here at The Manor over the last few weeks. Beginning almost two weeks ago, Devon began what will eventually become know as The Toddler Rebellion of ’07. He has been coming to the ski mountain nursery about two days a week for the majority of the ski season. It is wonderful to be able to take the kids to work with me, and it is one of the reasons that I return season after season to the insanity of the Rich and Pampered on skis. The older kids get to take ski and snowboarding lessons for virtually free and Devon gets to be King of the Nursery and take private ski lessons from young, lithe, gorgeous Australian ski instructors whenever he feels so inclined. However, those young, gorgeous creatures also indulge his EVERY whim to the point where reality just doesn’t compute with his SELF. Those girls don’t understand that once we leave the nursery Devon must hear the word no and he must adhere to rules. Most of the time Devon can handle it, but a couple of weeks ago when I had to interrupt his weekend with his father to take him to the nursery so that Matt and Cass could spend the day floating on the river in Matt’s boat, Devon hit a wall. He sat in the back of the bug stewing about his sudden change in schedule. NEVER before had I dared to pick him up so early from the Fun Time Central of his father’s house to squish him into his car seat and strap him in for the 40 minute ride to the ski hill. NEVER before did he have to be changed into his snow clothes during the short shuttle ride from the parking lot to the nursery. Devon is a young man of his routine and although a trip to the nursery meant GOOD THINGS, it was not on his agenda and I was to blame. Devon ended up having a lovely day, but the disruption in his schedule prevented him from napping and by the time we returned home he was bellowing about his displeasure ALL. THE. WAY. HOME.
And the bellowing continued. And continued. And continued. It went on for over a week. As soon as he awoke, Devon would lie in his crib yelling. When I went to scoop him out, he would yell for me to go away. At breakfast he would push away his yogurt and cry for cereal. If I brought cereal, he would yell for yogurt. He would scream if I tried to change his diaper. He would scream is he had to go to preschool. It got so bad that I dreaded seeing his cherubic face surrounded by the halo of ever messy white hair. Nothing was to his satisfaction. He was miserable. The older kids couldn’t stand him. I was miserable.
Last week my brother came for a visit, a fact that can often tip the ever so delicate scales of sanity over the edge. He can be snide, cruel and cause trouble. One just never knows how he will be. After the first day my brother looked at Devon doubled over in the wounded child pose and screaming and remarked, “I don’t know how you do this day in and day out. It is almost as if he is emotionally teething.”
In that moment I think I loved my brother more than I have in years. He hit it exactly on the head. This year is precisely like that. Just like getting teeth, we have to go through this and there is absolutely no way around it. We have to grieve my father no matter how much it hurts. I have to go through the withdrawl of leaving an abusive relationship no matter if I have those sick moments when returning seems like the easiest thing to do. Devon has to be two in order to reach three.
In the days since my brother made that comment, I have held dear to his words. A couple of days ago Cassidy and I had a string of altercations that were likley the beginning of many. She screamed and thrashed. She told me she hated me and that she was running away. For a bit of time I got sucked in before I realized that the emotions would pass and life would go on. Cass told me she was running away, but instead of arguing I told her she wouldn’t get far without shoes. She stomped off and paced up and down the driveway until the cold mud was too much for her feet. She later came in, gave me a hug and we both made our peace.
There has been no drastic change in our chaotic life since my brother’s observation. Loren continues to argue my every decision. Cassidy continues to push my buttons. And although Devon has settled down after staying home for the past five days, he is still two. He is still a toddler with all of the randomness that is included with this age. I continue to have dreams where my father has just died and I dread the knowledge that I have to wake up and begin mourning him all over again. But these are all thing we have to get through. Like teething, eventually we will get through this year and heal.