Monday, 21 September 2015


Cute, adorable, cuddly, butter wouldn't melt!  Where has that child gone?  It seems he packed his bag and vacated the building several days ago.  It's been one hell of a week with O, he's learnt the art of tantrums, full blown screaming the house down kind of tantrums.  It's Monday and I feel like I could be doing with another week to recover from the events of last.

This past week Oscar has been playing up something awful, he's definitely testing his boundaries with me, and he clearly knows that my word is not as stern as his daddys!  I've lost count of the amount of times I've told him no, and i've also lost count at the amount of times he's actually listened.  It all came to a bit of a head on Friday afternoon when Oscar decided to hit me in the face.  I began by saying No!  No that is not nice you don't hit (repeat x4), I then upped my game and my voice, trying out my more authoritative voice (repeat x4).  At this point my patience is wearing thin, I wanted to persevere with him rather than walk away, I want him to know that hitting, in any form is wrong.  I know that sometimes he does it in excitement, so on those occasions I can let it slide, but when I know its deliberate I absolutely can't.  The final straw came when he picked up the remote and whacked me on the face, catching the bridge of my nose...OUCH!  I lost it! 

I yelled at him so loud, NO THAT IS NAUGHTY! YOU DO NOT HIT!!!!! .... Que screaming, hysterical child, tears rolling down his face, lip quivering and then all of a sudden I felt this huge pang of guilt!  I left him sitting on the chair, said nothing else and turned away from him.  He needs to know that what he did was wrong.  A few minutes later he slid down off the chair, walked over to me, hugged me and gave me a kiss (heart melted, all was forgiven, my child can do no wrong).  I gave him a cuddle and told him that what he did wasn't nice and that's why I shouted at him.

He's 1!  I know this, but I am a firm believer in starting as you mean to go on, whether he understands what I am saying to him fully or not, he can definitely tell the difference between right and wrong.  I don't want him to be that child that everyone dreads, that spoilt, out of control brat that you just can't stand.  We praise him when he's done something good, and he claps, when he's done something wrong he knows because he cries.  It is so hard to find a good balance when it comes to discipline, one minute he's the sweetest little cherub ever and the next he's channeling the devil child.

95% of the time he is happy, smiling, running around and being wonderful but the other 5% he's chancing his luck and testing my patience.  It's a true saying, until you have kids you'll never understand.  The mummy guilt is real, but it's 100% normal.  So why do we feel guilty?  Because we love them, and the thought of them being upset for any reason is a hard pill to swallow.  Instilling discipline is tough, and it may not be nice, but it's important.  Children learn from us, my mum taught me the difference between right and wrong and I don't love her any less.  Although I shouted at my son and made him cry I know that he won't love me any less either, but i'll take solace knowing (or hoping) that on that day he whacked me in the face he learnt something.  Although I felt guilty (and still do, days on) he's probably forgotten all about it!

As I finish of this post I am waiting on him coming home from his overnight stay at Granddad's and I just know I'll be met with a huge smile!  So when you feel that little pang of guilt, just remember its of the greater good (most of the time!)

Kirsty x


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