Of course, “they” told me about the terrible two’s and yes it was a bit of a challenge, but now, at three and a half, the throw downs me and the Kid are having are of epic proportions. So, hereby some purging on the love of my life and the most demanding little persona to ever exist. The Kid.

I remember when he was about to start talking and I wanted him to say Mamma soo badly, because nobody in the world will ever call me mamma except for him (there have been some male exceptions but ok). Now, sometimes I wish he had never learned the word. I hear it a trillion times a day in 100 or more variations, from loving to angry often accompanied by stomping feet.

I’ll just start with last night. At about three, this is standard, the Kid starts to scream “Mamma” from his bed until I hear him, drag myself out of bed and take him into mine. Trust me I have tried to deny him this but the ensuing screams are too much for my sleepy state to bare, all I can hope for is that he falls asleep as soon as he hits my pillow.

Last night he did not, nope, he wanted to talk. He is quite the conversationalist, my Kid. His sentences usually start out like: “Mammaaa.. ehm.. ” and then loads of stuff comes out, all of it cute, ranging from conversations about toes to if ghosts are real and how big he needs to be to have a beer. This is daytime cute, not night time cute. His voice is still so clear and bright it cuts through everything plus he will not allow me to ignore him.

Finally, an hour in I think I fell asleep, only to be woken at about 05:00 by the Kid hovering over me whispering Mammaaaa super loud. Yes, Cute, but if you go through this cycle many nights in a row, extremely tiring.

I know my sleep time is over now and by giving the Kid my phone and a bottle of milk (yes real milk! I am that kind of mom) I am buying some more bedtime. This will get me about 20 minutes to half an hour before the bed becomes a bouncy castle and the Kid gets loose (do other kids also seem to have 8 arms and legs?) It is also when the incessant questioning starts.

“Mamma, are we going to day-care today?”, “No we are not, today being Saturday”. “Why?” “Well Saturday is a free day”. “Why?” “Ehm, because its weekend?” “Why?” end of my patience so, to my shame I use the sentence to end it all “Just because it is!” I will say that a lot today. Closely followed by “Because I said so.” Poor Kid.

Next topic of conversation is what we are going to do today. This is a tricky one because he will never want to do what I suggest so I have to manipulate my ass off to get him on my team. Which is team Playground, so you would think that would be easy. It is not, because the Kid will not want what I want at the moment. Never.

So, I start off by making pancakes, what could go wrong right? Well, the Kid wants to help. This means that during the whole process he stands really close to me starting every sentence with “Mamma” demanding why he cannot do the butter, why he cannot stand next to the stove, why I will not pick him up, why why why why.

When the pancakes are done the Kid refuses to eat them because the pancakes are grey.. Admittedly, I used some uber healthy pancake mix and get his point. But man, he gets angry! Did I mention that the Kid throws the biggest tantrums ever!

So, no food down, but an hour and a half into this day we are both still not dressed. I do the dress dance with the Kid and get him into some clothes he obviously does not want to wear, park him in front of the television and hit the shower. One second later he’s standing next to me: “Mamma, what are you doing?” And we are off. Again.

I will spare you the rest and try to get to my “point”. Which is, how can something that I love soo much also drive me absolutely nuts? Sometimes, quite often actually, it feels like I have no space in my head for any of my own thoughts.

As soon as I have something that might be considered an original thought, somewhere in the house the Mamma alarm goes of and poof its gone because now I will either have to tell the Kid off, explain something or mend some toy that just broke.

The telling off seems to reign now and I do not like myself this way. I am the Mom that yells “because I said so!” in the middle of the supermarket only to get sympathetic looks from other parents and disbelieving looks from the childless.

The mom that crouches down to have a serious conversation with her Kid in the middle of a party to tell him he cannot throw stones at other kids, then being stoned herself and giving up in exasperation. This happened, also Saturday.

So, basically, I am not the “cool” Mom I envisioned myself to be when I was one of the childless bunch. I have mom-brain and am tired and a bit too short fused.

Apparently, I behaved exactly like the Kid when I was his age, so my Mom tells me this is Karma. It must be quite gratifying to watch for her. I hope the Kid will get a Kid someday with the same temperament.

This is what keeps me going, thinking .. just wait, your turn will come! And when it is his turn I will tell him “it is just a phase” with a knowing smile.

It is just a phase.

Ps. If it is not clear. I love the Kid more than anything else that has ever entered my weird existence and can barely go without him for a night. If you doubted that. Don’t.