Threenager Life

From the time Clark was born, fellow parents have warned me about raising teenagers. And to be perfectly frank, I remember being one and it must have been pretty terrible for my saint of a mother. I was the worst. Entitled, disrespectful, and generally obnoxious. And those were on the good days!

Of all the ages I have been warned about parenting, teenagers are always at the top of the list. Followed closely by Terrible Twos, which we sailed right through. Three, on the other hand, has been a ride that I was not prepared for!

I have always sort of hated the term 'threenager' (nor do I love aforementioned 'Terrible Twos'), as kids are not terrible or any other derogatory connotation. They are just small people with big emotions that they are learning to control and understand. I was never a fan of such generalizations...until I had a 3 year old. 

As we get ready to close out Clark's year of being 3 in a few short weeks, I cannot think of a better word to describe that 3 foot, 36 pound bundle of pure will and personality than 'threenager'. The similarities are striking:

Recently, Clark was moved from a crib to a toddler bed and all the freedom that comes with that transition, namely the ability to get out of bed 137 times per hour to pee. I try to be a pick-your-battles parent, so I grant amnesty most nights for the first several ventures out of bed. One night in particular came along recently where I called up from the bottom of the stairs that his field trips had come to an end and he needed to get into bed. Subtlety not being his strength, my usually sweet, kind, obedient child screamed at the top of his lungs and slammed his door with all of his strength. My first door slam! 

I grew up in a household where if you slammed your door shut, it immediately came off the hinges and you had no door left to slam. As I marched up the stairs to make it clear that this was his first and ONLY door slam, the mom lightbulb came on. We have older style door handles that his chubby little baby hands can't quite grip correctly when tightly shut. So after a stern chat about privileges and the loss of them, Clark spent a night with his door shut after only 112 trips to pee beforehand. The horror! But also, go me for thinking on my feet!

Also new and teenager-y is the chance I take daily of embarrassing him by merely existing. We were late for dinner and he was stuck at work with me finishing a month end 911 and he was hangry. He asked to go see some of his favorite coworkers of mine before we left, and I tempted fate and said 'yes, but it needs to be quickly'. After giving his usual hugs and answering a few questions, my coworker and I got a little sidetracked in a conversation, and aside from holding his hand so he didn't dart out in front of a moving vehicle (I'm an excellent parent!), I basically forgot that I had promised a hungry kid brevity in my conversation. 

Suddenly, I felt a tug on my hand and as I looked down at him to listen to him, my soul was burnt into by the raging fires of Satan coming from his eyes. Nose crinkled angrily and teeth gritted, he whisper-screamed "Mom! We are NOT doing this! We have to go!" Eyes still actively rolled to the back of his head, we walked to the car in silence; save for a few very annoyed deep breaths from the 3 year old. 

And just this week, we sat Clark down to tell him that Mommy is going to stop going to work every day at the end of the month and he and I are going to stay together! Sidenote: this has been a goal of Ryan's and mine since I went back to work when he was 10 days old. I've endured years of nasty comments about him probably thinking I'm daycare and daycare is his 'real' mom, I've been told how others could never choose work 'over' him, and also, I really freaking miss him. For four years, I have been blessed with a job that I love, with coworkers that I truly enjoy 96% of the time, that has allowed me to help provide for our family and offer Clark the chance to learn and grow with other children. The same job and boss bent over backwards for me 18 months ago when I said I needed to cut my hours and spend every Monday with my child. Without hesitation, I was told to do what's best for my family. (No boss is perfect, but I will never forget that gesture. BP - you are one of the good ones. You will always be the one who supported me every time and in every way I needed, and you are one of the hardest people to leave. Loyalty goes both ways in a job, and you made sure that your staff knew that you had our backs. Two people who feel as deeply as we do aren't always a good combo in a work atmosphere, and we have had our share of sparks over the years, but I always knew we were still on the same team, even when not each other's biggest fan that particular day. Your leadership and friendship made this the hardest professional decision I have ever made.)

As much as this has been our goal, I still sat in my General Manager's office and bawled while tendering my resignation. A lot of people say their coworkers are like a family, but I find it hard to believe that many could feel more like one than my work family. I enjoy going to work most days, and getting to see the people I work alongside, knowing about their lives and their successes and being there to pick one another up when a tragedy is faced. 

And if I'm being blunt, I'm pretty good at what I do. I'm not 100% sure I'll be a good stay at home mom, but I have known for a while that I needed to try or that I would regret losing out on this time. I left my 10 day old to return to that job - if that doesn't say something about my sense of being part of the team, loyalty, and love of that company, I'm not sure what does. Still, that GM who so graciously listened to me cry over leaving, told me, without hesitation, 'do what's best for your family'. Knowing that me leaving means headache for him, he still supported my choice. Those are good people and I am really going to miss them.

Back to Clark, after arriving at this decision through months (and arguably, years) of pros and cons with Ryan, we finally agreed this week that this would be our next chapter. As my sadness waned and my excitement at getting to see my kid more bubbled over, we told Clark about our schedule that will begin at the turn of the new year. With anticipation, we gave him the information and waited for his glee. 

I'm still waiting for the glee. His first response was "No fair! I don't want to quit daycare!" We carefully explained to him how we will get to see each other and go places and make new friends. I, again, waited to see joy spread across his face. Instead, I saw the wheels turning as a smirk opened across his face and he asked "Mommy, can you go to work and I stay with Daddy every day??"

So, if you're thinking I'm questioning my decision, it's clearly going great. Exactly the reaction I hoped for while wallowing about sacrificing a job that I love that pays actual money. I'd totally rather not get paid and have my boss completely pissed that I'm around all the time. Can't wait to see what he thinks of me when he's an actual teenager. #Winning. #BringOnFournado

*Late edit: I see that I made the grave oversight of no photos. Enjoy these 'teenager-like' snaps from the past few months and tell me which you think I'm most in store for in 9 short years.