Two Year olds have microphonic screams

The thing I love the most about my son is his ability to tease. At two years old, he is a comic genius, making me laugh multiple times a day at things that I never found funny before he came along. He has the most incredible belly laugh and the most incredibly happy eyes, that you can't help but laugh. He is impossible to punish. He finds laughter in every situation, even when I fail miserably at attempting a time out. I actually swatted him on the butt the other day when he repeatedly felt the need to whip a dog bone at me, and he just giggled gleefully. Some days, it's more than I can handle, being the best joke on the planet to a two year old. But most days, it's a compliment.

My son's newest talent is screaming. Not tantrums, though he's good at those, too, but earth-shattering, eardrum rupturing, window crackling screams. So high pitched that the dogs run for cover and the neighbors car alarms go off. And they seem to make you momentarily go deaf.

The problem is that I don't know how to make him stop. I've tried ignoring him, yelling back at him, simply going upstairs, telling him no- it doesn't matter. It's all funny. Hilarious, knee-slapping, fall on the floor humor. There is no punishment short of removing laughter that this kid can't find funny. And of course, I end up laughing, too. Well, usually.

I can remember perfectly when he was born, and the cooing and ahhing began, that a woman stopped me in the mall to compliment his adorableness, and then she said "Wait until he discovers that screams echo in the mall. Just wait." This particular comment haunts me. I have avoided the mall like an enema, and all the while I keep thinking, just get it over with. Go. I have not been to the mall in months. I can picture my child, happily screaming as customers clasp their ears in pain, only hoping that their ears are not bleeding.

I cannot wait for this phase to end. I know it will simply be replaced with some other attention-getting toddler amusement, but whatever it is, I can deal. And I will laugh. Screams that amplify by themselves at a pitch that can shatter glass can never end soon enough.

I can't even pretend to like you.

Many people have the life-saving skill of small talk. You know, where you can somewhat graciously pretend to be interested in some minute details of a person's life, the weather, the local news, etc. I do not fall into that category of blessed talent. I cannot, even if I try my hardest, pretend to like you if I don't. I'm not sure if it's because I've just never liked fake people or if it's because I was never taught how to pretend to like fake people. But really, if you don't want to get to know me, I don't care if you talk to me. Life is too short to pretend.

Now, don't get me wrong. If I am in a social setting, I can talk to whomever I choose. And you can talk to me. But I don't really care if you remember me or care if you think the weather is bizarre. I'm terrible at nodding my head and pretending total awe that it hailed in your neck of the woods last night, and you may think I have a headache or possibly may even be retarded due to my poor acting skills. I am just no good at pretending to be interested in what you have to say if I'm not. If I'm lucky, you may talk about something interesting and I won't have to pretend at all. If I'm lucky, I WILL be interested in what you are conversing with me about, and low and behold! A conversation is born. Now, conversations, complete with points and counter-points, are a whole other ballgame. I can DO that.

Now, my real problems arise with my family. My family has gone from one unit to four separate units in just under 5 years. My brother and I have gotten married, and I now have a child as well. And my parents have since divorced, and my mom has remarried, and my dad has carried on with his mistress and her family. It has, in no uncertain terms, made for very uncomfortable family parties. And this is where I get in trouble. Because if I don't care to talk to strangers who don't care to talk to me, and in no uncertain terms do I have any interest in making small talk with the woman my father is dating. None. Zippo. Zilch. And lady, I can't even pretend to like you.

Now, my mom is a somewhat submissive, quiet, unopinionated woman who likes a man to take care of her. She holds a good job, dresses conservatively, is always well-spoken and polite. She does't have the skills it takes to survive on her own or if she does, she chooses not to use them. Hence, the quick remarriage. We get that. We understand that. And if my dad was looking for the opposite of my mother, he certainly found it. The "other woman" is loud, crude, and drunk most of the time. She wears short skirts and low cut tops, though she is built somewhat like a linebacker. And she works in a bar, which is where my dad met her. Now, none of those things in itself is a bad thing, but when all of those combine into the woman who broke your mom's heart and destroyed your family, well, it's a bit much to tolerate. And when she's bellowing and hee-hawing like a drunk trucker in the corner of the room at your son's second birthday party... it's about all you can do not to throw up a little bit.

Tomorrow is Father's Day, and the rule of Father's Day is that dads get to do what they want. My husband wants to go golfing with a broken finger. So that's what he gets to do. My dad, my terribly oblivious dad, wants to make my brother and I sit in a 20' cabin cruiser boat, complete with trampy girlfriend, and "enjoy" father's day. So now what? My son is an excellent excuse, always putting a good 30 minute time limit on most activities as most 2 year olds do. But my dad is oblivious in more ways than one, and will cheer on my son's tantrums in this small, confined, muggy space by driving the boat further from shore and thus, leaving us to suffer even longer. We will sit on the boat in silence, without the buffers of my wonderful small-talking sister-in-law and my ever tolerant husband. My brother will drink heftily while I sweat with anxiety over my two year old alternating between throwing tantrums and himself off the boat. It will not be fun. It will not be enjoyable. It will not be a good day. And at the end of the day, I will be no closer to liking the trucker girlfriend than I am today.

Anybody have a copy of "Social Skills for Dummies" that I can borrow?

A little beer and a little chocolate

I've been running around like a madwoman for the last 3 months, and finally, FINALLY, I get the chance to relax. This is my first weekend off in umpteen bazillion weekends in a row. So what am I going to do? Drink beer and eat a huge scoop of Oberweis Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream. Damn Skippy.

Now, it may be that PMS has reared its ugly head. It may be that my fantasizing about being a size 6 again has finally wore its welcome out. It may be that I just really want to feel sick to my stomach about 3 hours from now. Whatever it is, I freakin' deserve it. I'm not one to pat myself on the back, but damn, I worked hard and now I deserve a little break and a little reward. Even if it cost me 1200 calories.

My husband is even coming home at a remotely decent hour, which this time of year, is practically unheard of. Between softball and golf and his busiest time of the year work-wise, summer is left to me and my son. But tonight, he'll be home by 9pm. I don't envy couples who have to deal with nightshifts. I don't even come close to having to deal with that. But, I miss my husband this time of year. And, I miss someone just taking over a tantrum-throwing 2 year old's bathtime every now and then. I miss the "team" in teamwork.

Tomorrow, I will start my diet anew. I will be working when I don't need to. And I will be full-steam ahead towards my next big project. But tonight, Ahhhh, tonight. Tonight I have a date with my husband, some chocolate, and some beer. Tonight, life is good.