I woke up all excited this morning to take Hendrix to the library for storytime. I'm just now feeling like I can handle two kids and get out of the house earlier than noon, so we head out with diaper bag and Batman hat in tow, ready for a fun 'mommy and me' and baby day.
Storytime begins and I'm super excited, there's a photographer from the Arizona Republic there to capture the sweet scene of mommies with their two year olds, and I just know Hendrix is going to be on the front page because he is so darn cute! Little did I know what the next half hour had in store for me. Hendrix thought the chairs in the back of the room were more entertaining to run across than to listen to the nice storybook lady. When I told him he had to stop, he yelled "no". After three attempts of controlling him and one attempted escape; him running out of the room, me running after him...leaving MilaBelle on the floor to catch him, I told him it was time to go. Now the true disaster occurs. He begins screaming at the top of his lungs. I try to hold his hand and escort him out of the library, he goes limp. His arm dangling from my grip, his legs dragging behind him and his head thrown back, inches away from slamming on the ground.
I try to seek refuge in a nearby bathroom, the restroom only magnifies his cries. I have MilaBelle strapped to my chest in a baby sling and now I'm attempting to carry my two year old, while he kicks and pushes against me. He starts hitting MilaBelle, so I have to put him back on the ground to save her from further injury. We're outside now and he's desperately trying to run away. I sit on the ground, my legs wrapped around his body to get a good grip to atleast make it to my car. I've decided I can't care anymore of what on-lookers may be thinking, I have to get this kid to the safety of my car before he hurts himself.
I get him in the car and lock the doors to take a moment to myself before driving home. I realize I've dropped several items at least 10 feet away in the ordeal. As I backtrack my steps, picking up the beloved Batman hat and now dirty blankets, I break down in tears. How is it possible for my perfect child to act so terribly? I'm thinking he must have some chemical imbalance or something. I return to my car with Hendrix still screaming and see a police officer standing there.
I raise my hand in admittance, that 'yes, that is my child, and I didn't leave him stranded, not yet anyway.' My first thought was the cop was going to call CPS on me, but no she was sooo sweet, gave me a hug and told me 'this too shall pass.'
I said a prayer, drove the 11 miles to my mother-in-laws to find sanctuary, while Hendrix hollered the entire way there. I didn't think it was possible to yell and scream for that long.
I write this because Lanae told me other mothers would get a kick out of my ordeal. I hope you do. I hope my child isn't the only one with this "terrible two's" disease. Is there a cure or maybe a really strong drug (for me, not him) to cope with such situtations?
