Have you heard I have a 2 year old?

Because I do. He turned 2 and turned into a holy terror. Overnight. One bright Monday morning a few weeks back, Zachary decided the best way to get what he wanted would be to scream/cry at his top pitch wail. Awesome. This coincided with a week that Alex had to work in the evening so it was just me dealing with a screaming, crying 2 year old. And let's not forget that I am not at my top mothering speed either, what with being tired and pregnant myself.

It lasted for 3 days. There was a bunch of screaming, crying, feet stomping and hands flailing (from me) until I got my act together. I talked about the horror that was my life with no fewer than 7 people. In 2 days. Some of these people did not have children - you should feel especially sorry for them. But his behavior just monopolized my life as it monopolized our time together after work. Anything he did not get that he wanted (which is most things) would lead a to huge meltdown.

Here are some of my favorite and non-favorite quotes from outsiders:

"So this has been going for 3 days...I don't think this is really defined as a behavioral issue necessary of excessive talking/reading. I think he is going to snap out of it."

"Have you tried going into the closet again?"

"You can do this. He only weighs 28 lbs. You are his mother and are better than this." (wait - that was my pep talk to myself)

"Ohhh just wait, it only gets worse!"

Ummm the last one is especially NOT HELPFUL. Please no one else look at me, tilt you head and say in a highly patronizing tone, "Just wait! The terrible twos are only starting!". Unacceptable. Unless you have something HELPFUL to say like "it is just a short phase, he will be out of it soon" or "have a drink on me!" - I don't want to hear it.

Anyway, the tantrums have NOT ended. What started out as a pleasant night last night (again with Alex in CA for work and me hormonal and preggers) ended up with basically the below happening: All. Night. Long.

Might I also add that we went to eat hamburgers for dinner where he was an ANGEL. He sat in his self selected booster chair, said "thank you" to the men that brought our food (no joke, I almost fell over) and ate like a lovely little boy. But the second we walked in the door of the house, nothing became right for Zachary. He did not want to go into the bath; he did not want to get out; he wanted to kick me while I was putting on his pjs; he wanted to read in the big bed NOT the chair; and on and on and on. I can neither confirm nor deny that I yelled "Mommy said NO!" and closed his door hard-ish. Not my finest parenting moment, if in fact that did happen.

I don't know how I have not seen that video until now as it made me simultaneously laugh out loud in my cube and feel better that my child is not the only one throwing himself on the floor in hysterics. At least those people have carpet.