I think I've created a monster

I knew better, I really did.  I KNOW people who have "spoiled" their kids because of an illness (real or perceived).  I swore I would never be like that, swore it with all of my heart those long-ago days when I didn't have children.  But.... I have done it.  Tommy is spoiled rotten.  I don't mean the too-many toys spoiled rotten, I mean the "I get whatever I want the moment I want it" kind of spoiled.

To be fair, I'm not certain that it is ALL related to the gut-wrenching guilt I feel every day having to put the itch-sticky patch on his cute little face... but that is always there.   He's cranky?  Oh, it must be the patch, I'll carry him.

It's also partly because if he screams and cries too hard... that little lens that is oh-so-important, can pop right out.  I have a 50-50 chance of finding that $250 piece of silicone.  He's crying?  Give him what he wants, he can't cry too hard!


It's partly because he's baby #4 and gets dragged from one activity to another.  He's screaming?  Give him what he wants, we can't bug the people around us, don't make them stare.


Yep.  I created a monster.


It hit me today as he screamed... and I do mean SCREAMED for 20 minutes straight over what is likely a case of no-more pudding.  (I'm not even sure, but I was VERY sure he wasn't hurt/hungry/wet/etc.  He screamed, he cried, he clenched his fists, he rolled on his belly kicked his feet and wailed.  Full-on temper tantrum.   It was funny... it really was... would've been a lot funnier if it had been someone else's kid.  I wanted to scoop him up and make it stop... but he cannot use screaming as his method of communication.  A reach, a sign for more, we waited for anything.  We waited for 20 minutes.

What's worse?  I watched each of his 3 sisters go and get some favorite toy/treat/binky... in an effort to stop the screams.  I stopped them each time- this has to stop.  It hit me that there are 5 of us catering to his every whim.  That's probably why he doesn't talk... doesn't walk.  He doesn't have to!

In the end, he reached for me, I picked him up and cuddled him, and all was well.  Contact in, ego bruised.  We all survived.

Oh yeah, I get what I want!

So here I begin the training of a future man.  He will not get what he wants by screaming.  He knows simple signs, he will eventually learn to talk.  I will attempt to make him a little less spoiled (future wife, you can thank me now!).  Wish me luck... the hardest thing may be convincing his sisters.