So, I thought I would write a little post about how William has been recently and the word above basically sums up the new “phase” or “thing” that we are going through these past few weeks.


Now, i’ve spoken to other mums/parents about this and I totally know that it is PROBABLY just a phase and he is “testing the boundaries” (that age old saying which to be honest is it really a thing – testing the boundaries? Surely he just doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get his own way?)

Basically, he only ever acts up to me. He’s fine with his Dad, and of course absolutely fine with both sets of grandparents (apart from that time he hit my in-laws’ dog – not the greatest moment ever there Wills) and when he is at nursery.

I get him up in a morning and sit him on his matt to change his nappy and it starts straight away. So I am half asleep, not even brushed my hair, probably one tit hanging out of my PJ’s (poor kid must be confused – but I will go to bed in a vest top – ONE WILL NEVER LEARN that you’re always going to wake up half naked!) and he either doesn’t want his pissy nappy changing/doesn’t want to be on his matt/doesn’t like the colour of my hair that day/wishes I was his Dad etc. etc. and he starts.

SLAP! Right in the face. And it isn’t a playful slap, he makes this bloody weird noise like a growl and perhaps a groan, and he’s pushing me away from him, pulling my Pj’s (trust me I wouldn’t if I were you sonny Jim) and when I’m telling him “No” he just ignores me, then goes in for the all important slap.

I’m not going to lie, I have tapped him hand back and shouted at him that he shouldn’t slap. That seems to make him more angry/frustrated, so he then tries to pull my glasses off my face. Now, anyone who wears glasses and has had this done to them before will know – YOU NEVER TOUCH THE GOGGLES HONEY. It’s a no-go area. The line has then well and truly been crossed.

All this while trying to hold a half naked child and making sure a) that piss doesn’t fly everywhere and b) he doesn’t fall off the changing table and c) he doesn’t break my bloody glasses (why are glasses so expensive though – come on guys give us a break it’s not OUR fault we are blind). A few times I have just sacked the nappy off and stuck him back in his bed for him to have his tantrum, walk out the room and come back in when he has calmed down (hopefully). Sometimes that works and sometimes me just entering the room can set him off again and make him start throwing himself around again and doing his weird growling noise.

This happens quite a few times throughout the day. It is generally when he doesn’t get his own way – when I turn Little Baby Bum (Jesus WHY did I  introduce that into our lives – I have no-one to blame but myself and that makes it all the more sour – it’s LEGIT like crack for babies and kids) off the telly, when I tell him no, he can’t have 3 fruit ouches in a row 4 minutes before his lunch, when I offer him his lunch and he doesn’t eat anything apart from the crisps, when it’s bedtime, when I put his shoes on his feet because we have ants in the back garden and I don’t want him getting bitten by them, etc. etc.

Now, I’m not thick, and I do understand that of course everyone has off days, even babies/children. But it’s the fact he only ever does it to ME. And I’m not exaggerating. Once my mother in law had popped round and he was all sweetness and light to her, then I went to change his nappy as he had done a shit, and he kicked off. She LITERALLY stood there with her mouth wide open in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it – she told me afterwards that it was like watching a different child. THANKS CAROLE FOR THE SUPPORT THERE BABES.

I’m not going to lie, it did make me feel like absolute dog shit. ABSOLITE SHIT. I was putting him down to bed at night and just crying, going and locking myself in the bathroom while he was having a tantrum, head in hands, counting to ten, deep breaths the lot. It’s especially hard as my husband works away a lot Monday through to Friday so when it is every. day. all. day. it get’s really tiresome and you start to think that your chuld hates you. He would be so so happy to see other people and not have tantrums with them, yet as soon as he saw me and I went to give him a cuddle he would go to hit me or push me away, it was very hurtful and rejecting, and I felt like a failure as a mother. I started to dread the mornings wondering if he was going to hate me that day or love me. It made me FEEL like he hated me and didn’t love me, or want me near him/to love him. It was really hard, especially as I am quite a needy person and affectionate person (I know I come across as a sour-faced old witch but really I’m a soft shit – especially when it comes to William. Or dogs, I love dogs too.) After a few days this becomes draining and exhausting.

I had a little cry to my husband and to my fellow mum friends (in real life and who I met on the “gram”  – big up to you ladies because I honestly appreciate the advice and the messages at like mid night when I’m up being a snotty mess eating cookies in bed – LOVE YOU HOES) and they reassured me that it probably WAS just a phase and OF COURSE HE LOVES ME. They gave me some advice and told me their stories of their woes and their experiences of this type of behaviour and other people who they knew who had maybe experienced this – and this made me feel better. And also to the lovely followers I have on Instagram who have messaged me and taken the time to explain their situations and given me advice – I really appreciate it, honestly you guys are just the best and I really do thank you for helping a gal out.

It seems it must be some sort of phase they go through just before they get to 2 years old – or whether it’s his frustration at not being able to communicate with me properly and me not being able to understand what he wants/needs/tries to tell me, or perhaps that he is just finding his own personality and learning what is right and wrong and (here we go guys)..testing those boundaries. I kind of get that saying but still not fully. Maybe its just me.

But – it seems to have calmed down. Don’t get me wrong – some days are a shower of shit and I cry in the bathroom before going out to him and offering him his lasagne for the 5678th time and him throwing it back at me, other days are wonderful and he climbs on my knee and wants to kiss my face and cuddle me and hold my hand wherever he goes and wants to have “a love” as we call it when we sit in the chair in his room with his blankie and toy elephant and just have a cuddle before bed. Swings and roundabouts I guess, but that doesn’t mean that it is easy.

I guess I just always have this feeling that I am failing and that everyone else is doing a better job than me. When in fact – I am the one he wants to cuddle at night before he goes to sleep, those sleepy” loves” are what makes me restore my faith that he doesn’t hate me at all, but in equal measures they also make me feel awful for shouting, losing my rag and having to walk away, and thinking “oh god – when will this day ever end?!” There is a saying I have read which says “the days are long but the years are short” and it really is true. I mean – I started this blog when he was new-born – here we are 2 years later.

I guess what I am trying to say, and to reiterate it to MYSELF, is that you are doing a great job, Mummy, Daddy, Granny, Auntie, Granddad, Foster mum, whoever you are looking after these small people. And also just to say that even though it sometimes feels like you are, you actually aren’t on your own.

Tara x

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