Weekend Rendezvous

Last weekend the Professor took one last hurrah before baby number 2 comes along. He went to a cabin in East Tennessee with some old college friends to do things that old college fraternity brothers do. I guess this means they drank a lot of beer, played poker, went to a bar or two and acted immature. I’m not asking. When he told me about his plans, I was at first a bit peeved that he was willing to leave his 30 week pregnant wife at home with a very frustratingly ornery two-year old. You see, lately, Charlie has become defiant, whiney, and a bit of a handful. It all started on his second birthday. Since then, we have implemented a few discipline techniques, one involving the naughty stool that we learned about from the one episode of the Supernanny I watched a few months ago. It works, but before my solo weekend with Charlie, we hadn’t quite gotten the point across to Charlie that what we say goes. Getting him to go to the toilet was a nightmare laced with screams and crying and “No! I don’t have to!” even when he had consumed an entire cup of water an hour before. Eating at the dinner table was also filled with whining and “I don’t like that!” and “I want graham crackers!”

Now, I’m not one to force food upon my kid, but I am diligently trying to broaden his palate so that he can enjoy the fruits of our cooking and the occasional night out. I am desperately hoping that he will be an adventurous eater, but it’s really, REALLY difficult not to succumb to his cries at dinner when he doesn’t want to try a bite of fish or, God forbid, mashed potatoes. He’s all “Pretzels! Graham crackers! Yogurt! More milk!” I just don’t have the patience to listen to all that whining while I’m trying to eat. Don’t get me wrong. I do not punish him for not eating. I do punish him for throwing a massive fit at the table if I ask him to take one bite of something before I will give him what he adamantly demands.

So, I was dreading a hormonal weekend alone with Charlie. I envisioned a weekend of either Charlie crying about dinner or me just throwing in the towel and letting him dine on pretzels for dinner while watching yet another episode of “Go Diego Go!” I saw myself begging Charlie to go to the bathroom and I was exhausted just thinking about having to hunch my big whale-belly self over to help him change his wet underwear repeatedly throughout the day. I could hear the multiple “I want Daddy” cries coming my way. I was not looking forward to it and I let the Professor know that he had better be grateful and remember what a loving and generous wife I am.

Then Friday came around. The Professor left around 2:00 for his weekend rendezvous. I picked up Charlie from school at 5:00 and braced myself for the weekend of potential hell that was headed my way. When I got to school, his teacher happily informed me that he had been dry all day. Yea! That gave me a little bit of hope. When we got home, we somehow managed to have dinner at the table without any screams. And miraculously, Charlie did not fight me when I suggested he go to the bathroom. Yes, I had to use the threat of the naughty stool, but it only took one mention of that simple form of punishment to send him running to the bathroom. He happily pulled his stool up to the toilet, announced with excitement “I’m dry!” and swiftly took care of business. This happened over and over again throughout the evening.
On Saturday, we had a wonderful morning with Gammy at the Children’s Museum, and nice lunch at home, a long restful nap, and an evening at the Zoo. I decided to be brave and forgo using any diapers or plastic covers and what do you know, he stayed dry all day long. It was awesome! And we had very few tantrums, all of which were fixed with a mild threat of the naughty stool.

When the Professor came home on Sunday, I was exhausted, but not from having to barter and fight with my two-year old. My exhaustion was due to a truly enjoyable and active weekend with him. I loved spending those two short days with him, playing, singing, dancing, and cuddling. He has always been a sweet little boy, but this weekend, I realized just how sweet he is. Thanks to the waning tantrums, a few gentle discipline measures and a genuinely loveable child, I could not have had more fun with Charlie than I did this weekend.