No Sugar Added
Whew! What a great bunch of comments over at my LJ (http://carrieb.livejournal.com) regarding the lovely transformation of my son into a hellion three year old. Honestly, he’s not a hellion. He’s just not as tractable as he used to be. Even at his worst, he is better than many children I see around town.
Today was a lot better. I didn’t have any sugar, which regulated my mood. He didn’t have any sugar either, though I am not sure if it effects his mood like it does mine. I was calmer, and kept my voice low. I used distractions and tricks to get him to do what I wanted, instead of yelling and time-outs.
Much better day. Now, let’s just see how long I can keep it up.
My new moms club (which I should just call my moms club since I dropped out of the moms group a few weeks ago) had a picnic in the park thing for dinner, so when Erik begged to make a cake we made a loaf of sour dough French bread instead. Yummy! There were way more people than I expected, so it’s a good thing I took the whole loaf. I wanted to keep half of it, but decided I better take it all. It was g-o-n-e. No bread for me. All I have left is half my container of chicken salad. If I have no bread, how am I suppose to eat it?
Too bad Erik had a complete melt-down at the picnic. First he fell off the airplane spring toy and hurt his chin and lip, then he wanted to play with a dog that was tied to the park bench. The lady said it was a nice dog, but she didn’t like to be touched. Erik, of course, wanted to touch her. ARGH!!! Why? Why bring your dog to the playground when no one can touch it and little kids are all about dogs?
And that’s my life for today. Nothing exciting. It’s hard to find stuff to ramble about when you don’t go anywhere except the gym and the playground.
Oh! I remember! The Cracker Lady was back in Latin Cardio yesterday. She still had a giant bag of stuff, but she didn’t have to break every 10 minutes to snort down crackers. Instead, she TURNED OFF THE FAN towards the end of the class. HELLO!!! You don’t want the overhead fans to hit you, MOVE. I am hot. I stand directly under one of the fans when I get their early enough. Leave my fans alone. Do I sound like a crybaby or what?
That’s all my drama. Pathetic, isn’t it? Better than big, emotional drama that makes me ill. Now Mike’s drama. . . that’s another story. One day I shall tell it and release all this stress that is giving me crazy nightmares.