Something in my head told me today would be a good day to stay in bed. I seem to have quite a few of those days, but today was exceptionally awful.
GM was so excited because daddy promised to let him watch Kung Fu Panda this morning. So he was up before the crack of dawn, ready for his movie. My attempts to lull him back to sleep were met with much resistance, as were my attempts to get him to listen to anything I had to say today.
After hours of telling him to chill on the Kung Fu moves, warning him not to jump of the couch, not to dive off the bed, that his toy snake was not a weapon, I got tired of it. He was given plenty of chances to heed my warnings, and chose not to. So, off to time-out we went.
Now, usually, time-outs are easy in our house. I tell him he's in time-out, explain why, and he sits perfectly and does his time. Not today, oh no, not today. Today he punched, he kicked, he cried, he screamed, he flailed his arms, he tried to run. Every time, I pulled a Super Nanny and put him back in his time-out spot. Every time, I was met with a new complaint, I need a drink, I don't want to sit, I want to stand, you hurt my foot, I hurt my finger, I'm too hot. And the last? I'm going to throw up! And he did. Thankfully, there was a towel in reach, and afterwards, he served out those few minutes he was being forced to sit there for.
Yes, I feel like a bad mother, I made my kid puke. I feel guilty that I let him get that worked up, but I have to be consistent, I don't need him getting hurt acting like a "warrior" or to ignore me when I talk to him. So, I followed through, for 30 minutes, and afterwards, I went and had myself a nice little cry of my own.