Last night, I came home with the idea that I'd lay down for 10 minutes and then get up and make dinner. Mike was supposed to come in and let me know when my 10 minutes was up, so I was a bit put off when I awoke an hour later slobbering on my pillow.

I went out to cook dinner and somehow the recliner grabbed my ass and wouldn't let go. I don't know how that happens sometimes, but I think there's a magical connection between my butt and that chair. Mike asked me what's for dinner. I asked him what was in the fridge and freezer. I told him what to cook and then Russell and I had a fight about whether Mom gets to watch what she wants on the TV. Mind you I didn't come in on him watching something, rather I asked him to turn it on for me and he did and started promptly changing the channels even after I asked him NOT to do that several times. He started whining, so he was put on time out.

He kept whining and storming, so he got more time added to his timeout. We told him last night, if he doesn't start going into timeout immediately, we will start taking away things until he gets the idea. I hate feeling like Queen Bitch Mom, but he really pushes things and it's so damned irritating. Mind you my patience level has been squished within an inch of its life, as have my internal organs, but I know he's just doing this shit for attention. After the timeout, I invited him to come sit with me and snuggle. And the rest of the evening, while not perfect (Man, that kid talks trash!) went pretty well.

This morning, I was ready to wring his neck in frustration. We told him he has to start brushing his teeth in the morning last week, and he's been bucking it all the way. I never did this when I was his age and while I try to do this occasionally, it's not my best thing. I always brush and floss before bed and have always had really healthy teeth. The two baby teeth Russ just lost had the biggest cavities in them. We knew about them, but those two brown holes made me realize, my son does NOT have my teeth, i.e., the teeth that didn't have a single cavity until I was 17.

So this morning, he comes out all dressed, which is what he is supposed to do after he brushes his teeth, so he doesn't paint his clothes in toothpaste and spittle and tells me, "I forgot to brush my teeth before I got dressed, Mom." As if that will save him somehow. I look at him and say in that gimme-a-break tone of voice,"So take off your shirt and go brush." "But Mom I have an idea," he says, but in the tone of voice that you know means he's trying to weasel out of this somehow. "I have an idea, too. Get your shirt off and go brush your teeth." Stomped feet,"But you're not listening to me!" "Russell, is there anything unclear about taking off your shirt and brushing your teeth?" "No, but I don't WANT to." "I don't care if you want to. Please take off your shirt and brush your teeth." At which point, I go over to help him take off his shirt and he starts fighting me. I'm sorry, but fight me when I'm trying to help you, so we can get out of the house, so I can get to work and I'm livid.

I give him a spank and he gives me the shirt. I put toothpaste on his brush and hand it to him, let him work on them and I finish off the inside top row. And then let him finish yet again and I comb his hair the way he likes it and I gel it in place for him. Not once does he mention a thing about getting a spank, but I'm feeling like the most evil mom in the world.

In evaluating it, the only thing I can see that I could have done differently with little change of outcome was to let him spill his idea. Mike told me that his idea was to rinse his mouth out with water, which of course, would have been shot down immediately. He would still have had to take off his shirt and brush his teeth and he still would have been mad about it. Of course, it really irritates me that he had already tried running that nonsense past Mike and had it shot down and then thought he'd try it on me because I hadn't heard the exchange between he and Mike.

We talked to him about it later and reiterated how important it is for him to take care of his teeth by brushing them each morning and each night. We told him he could get painful shots in his mouth, his tooth drilled and then it would get filled. We reminded him that his teeth have to last for the next 100 years and in order for them to do that, he has to take very good care of them.

We had him repeat back to us why he doesn't want to get cavities. Apparently the discussion of a shot in the mouth and the pain associated with it sunk in because that was the first thing out of his mouth. ("Because cavities hurt!") In my mind, I'm thinking, "no, no darling, cavities don't hurt; root canals hurt. I'd much rather have a baby than have a root canal." I refrained because defining a root canal was far beyond my time schedule this morning.

When he got out of the car and then leaned back in to give me a kiss on the cheek this morning, I melted into mush.

Russell's intent on driving me crazy, but I'm still hanging in there because he's still the most beautiful boy in the world, even if I'm the most evil mother. I have him alone for a few hours tonight, so I hope it goes a bunch better than this morning. I'm so exhausted. I'm thinking I may leave work a little early and go home and snooze for the chance of a little more patience later. *sigh*

With working full-time, contending with this disease and caring for Russell, I forget sometimes that it's ok to just enjoy the time. I really want to cherish these last few months alone with Russell. It's worth it to blow the money on pizza for precious time with Russell where he lets me hold him and smooch his hair. Working full-time has sucked the energy and patience out of me, I realized last night. I hadn't wanted to work for my second pregnancy and it's hard being in a position of no choice in the matter.

I think my new mantra will be: It's okay; It's okay.

Truthfully, I think I'm driving my son insane, with hormones and exhaustion dictating my reactions to him. I'll only get to drive him crazy this once or twice, so I guess in the end, things will even out when he puts me in a home, wearing a diaper, and drooling on my apron.