Three. It is both the best and the worst age yet. But I guess if I think about it, every age is like that.
I love her independence. Her sense of humor. Her sensitivity. Having conversations with her. Her elaborate pretend play. Her singing and dancing. Her bold spirit.
What I could do without is the intense attitude. The fits over nothing. The way she sometimes openly defies me. Tells me no. That I’m no fun. That when she gets older she’s going to move away and do whatever she wants. How I’m already becoming that mother I said I wouldn’t be. The one who screams in frustration at her kid. Who yells things like, “I don’t have to listen to you! I’m the mom here.” Or the dreaded, “Because I said so, that’s why!”
What really kills me about Three is its bipolar nature. How yesterday while I was lying sick on the couch, she came up to me and asked me if she could get me anything. “What can I do for you?” She asked. When I told her “nothing,” she decided to read me some stories and rub my head. An hour later, I was telling her for the 100th time to “LEAVE YOUR BROTHER ALONE,” sitting her on a time out, and totally losing my shit.
Today, I awoke feeling like leftover ass. I’ve had a nasty cold for over a week. Yesterday, I felt high as a kite and chocked it up to my cold medicine. But this morning even though I hadn’t taken any meds, I was still all glassy-eyed and had that odd feeling of floating outside of my own body. I spent the first half the morning trying to maintain consciousness, until my angel of a mother came to rescue me so I could lay on the couch in peace. I rested for four hours and began to feel better.
When the kids came home, Elliot dragged me outside for a few hours. When I had to make dinner, she asked Jay and me if she could play in the back yard. We repeated our rule that she was not to leave the back yard. Minutes later, Jason saw her walk into the front yard and hauled her inside. She completely freaked and began her desperate bargaining routine. I’ll listen. I’ll be a good girl. Please. Let me go back out.
When that proved unfruitful, she pulled out all the stops. You’re no fun! I don’t like it when you mean. Several boo-hoos later, I tried to explain to her that mommy and daddy were just keeping her safe. And then it happened. The words that I hadn’t planned on hearing for years flew out of my child’s mouth, “I HATE YOU!”
Huh. I was shocked, but my feelings weren’t hurt. Even if I thought that she knew the power and the meaning of those words (which she doesn’t), I’m not here to be liked, I’m here to be her mother. Sadly, that isn’t always the same thing. She was put on a time-out, her daddy had a long chat with her, she apologized and morphed back into my sweet preschooler like it had never happened.
So, I’m officially a member of the loathed mommy club. (And yes, I’m totally aware of how craptastic her teenage years are going to be when she can both use these words and knows how to drive - save me!) Please share your I HATE YOU stories (c’mon, I know you have them - it’s a cliche for a reason). Failing that, I’ll take any recommendations you might have for a good exorcist.
When Giggles was three and a half she was tired of having to pick up after herself. She hated that her baby sister who was all of 6 months old was not the instant playmate that she thought she would be, even though we tried to warn her. I am sure you are familiar with the idea of reasoning to a three yo. *snicker* Anywho….She decided that day that she was tired of me and tired of the fact that we made her pick up her toys. She was throwing a royal fit telling me she didn’t have to do this or that. I simply asked her what she was going to do. Her response “I know that I am a beautiful girl and there are people out there who need a beautiful girl just like me. I will find a new family that loves me and buys me things and doesn’t make me pick up my toys so THAT baby won’t die on them.” I asked her how she was going to find the said family. “I will knock door to door and find them” When she grabbed her shoes and went to walk out the front door I grabbed her and put her in a timeout. She lashed out “I hate you, I will never forgive you, this family is stupid!!”
Well Giggles is 13 and when I tell this tale she blushes and laughs and thinks that I am exaggerating….which I so am not!!
I have no specific “I hate you stories” although I was told several times while working in daycare “I don’t like you” and one girl told me once “when I grow up, I’m not gonna be your friend”.
My 3 1/2 your old told me yesterday that he didn’t like me and was going to kill me. I was BEYOND shocked. Who teaches them these things?
Yesterday The Poo grounded me.
Yes, ain’t three grand?
Oh, Andi. It sucks to hear but she didn’t mean it. She probably doesn’t even know what that means.
Thank goodness you’ve got backup. That cold that’s going around is seriously nasty.
Remember the universe makes kids so cute so you don’t throw them in the river at times like this.
The best I can give you is from Elliot’s perspective. Being Three is a mental illness. When adults act that way they are put away in padded rooms.
I remember being Three. I remember telling my mother I hated her (my brother had ripped the head from my ‘Hobby Horse’ and in my opinion her punishment had not been severe enough).
I remember packing my (barbie) suit case.
I remember running away.
I remember my mother following me around the neighborhood. About 30 ft back…until I was tired and wanted to go home.
When I asked her why she did it she told me simply.
Although I may be angry and felt that I hated her. She didn’t hate me.
Hang in there! Four is right around the corner and who knows what she will do then!
I usually get “Mama, I’m very frustrated with you”. And I usually tell him, “Ok buddy, you can be frustrated”. What I want to add is “Because you FRUSTRATE the FREAKING HELL out of me.” But I don’t. At least I haven’t, yet.
I hear you. My daughter is 19 now and you are so smart to dread what’s coming. The worst I Hate You was when she was about 15 and screamed it at me while accusing me of choosing a fancy house and expensive car over her (this is a step-family thing; “rich” new husband that she doesn’t get along with so I should leave him. Stuff so hard I can’t blog it.)
Start saving for a good psychiatrist. Even if she doesn’t need to dip into this fund in 10 years, you will.
At least at 3 it goes as quickly as it comes and you can know she didn’t really understand it anyway.
I hope you start to feel better! That will help a lot!
that first time hearing it is like a stab in the eye. ouch.
I can’t count how many times my Little Miss, now 8, has said I was a bad parent and she hated me. The boys, now 18 and 22, rarely said it. It has to be a girl thing.
My most remembered I hate you moment…..A year ago, she put her hands on her hips and yelled, ” I hate you, you so ruined my life. Could I get a worse parent than you?” and ran down the hall and slammed her door. Why did I deserve this, I told her, “No you can’t climb up the hall walls. Yes, you have to mind me!”
I wish I could say it gets better, but I suggest you hang on to those sweet moments while they last.
Yeah, I love 3 and loathe it at the same time. But I have found that 6 ain’t no picnic either
Uhhhhh… hate to tell you but this is just the beginning of that ATTITUDE thing! Little Bear is almost five now and I totally relate to your stories! She can be sitting in my lap and kissing me and telling me she’s having the best day ever one minute, and the next minute screaming, “I hate you! You’re no fun! I like Grandma better!” because I told her she can’t pour her bubble solution on the slide to make a water slide or because I yelled at her for trying to wrestle with the baby!
Ouch. I am 26 and I still cringe at how mean I sometimes was to my mother. I dread having a daughter as bratty as I was.
“That when she gets older she’s going to move away and do whatever she wants.”
Yeah, I said that to my mom up until age 18. Went off to college, came home the first weekend. Now my mom is my best friend.
I’ll muse on this one for a bit. I know I’ve got one somewhere.
I thought that the three’s were far worse than the two’s.
The bipolar nature of the age of Three is going to be the death of me. This girl of mine is more emotional that I was in junior high when I had just got my period and was allergic to the huge braces on my teeth (resulting in mega-rash around my mouth).
PS. I just wrote a post about my loathed mommy experience today.
I’ve never actually heard “I hate you” but I’ve heard variations of “I wish you weren’t my mom” and “I wish Grandma had adopted me instead of you adopting me!” more times than I care to remember. It used to bother me a lot but I’ve come to realize it’s just one of the job hazards involved with raising an overly dramatic child.
I think three is hard. With Joseph two was a breeze but it got rough with three. Elle is pretty easy now at two but I’m bracing myself for three with her. I predict big trouble.
Hope you are feeling better.
I have a 13 year old boy and a 2 year old boy in my house. Both of them were born in July so soon it will be a 14 and 3. Imagine the hell that is my life on some days.
I haven’t heard the dreaded I HATE you from the little one yet thank goodness but I have from the other on at least three or four occasions. He felt bad about it and apologized and morphed into the perfect son for about an hour afterwards.
Get this though, I’ve caught him uttering “bitch” under his breath one night after a really bad argument of why he hadn’t scooped the cat crap out of the litter box.
Just wait til that little gem rolls out. He was grounded for like a month from the computer and hasn’t said it again….at least loud enough for me to hear it and I’ve got some supersonic mom ears!
Ugh, that loathes mommy club–how I hate it.
Welcome.
loathed–not loathes.
3 was the age my angel turned into a demon. Seriously. Like, overnight.
She grew out of it, but 3 (with a 6-month old as well) was very difficult. Once she screamed so loudly and so long that my neighbor actually called my house to see if everything was okay. Awkward!
It sounds like you guys are on the right path, being loving and consistent. Pretty soon it’ll be 90% sweet, 10% sour, rather than a 50/50 mix.
Aren’t they adorable when they are asleep. Mine were.
My 3-year-old has entered the openly defiant stage.
Driving. Me. Crazy.
I was kind of an asshole towards my mom for a long long time. Now she’s my best friend. It took time, and not living together. And her not killing me during high school. But now we have a super tight bond (swapping “who had better sex last night” stories), you’ll be ok. Go enjoy the weather. This cold sucks doesn’t it? I can’t shake it either…
i’ve heard “i hate you,” but so far, from only one of my kids. it was so much fun, i can’t wait until the next one says it! yeah.
Ack! The three year old years. I wouldn’t do them over for the largest carat diamond earrings in the world.
I’m sorry you joined the club. I don’t think Freya has actually said she hates me (I’m pretty sure I’d remember) but when I came home from my week-long road trip a few months ago and squeezed her and kissed her and said, “did you miss me?” she did shrug and say, “Nah, I don’t really love you that much.”
I think I was more shocked than if she had yelled she hated me in anger, but who knows? I’m sure the opportunity to figure that out will present itself sooner or later.
Oh dear… when your kids are in high school you’ll wish “I hate you” was the worst thing that came out of their mouths. A parent is never prepared for the first time their child unleashes the f-bomb at them.
Well, now I feel bad for not seeing this earlier. But since you’ve read my own story since then, you know that I feel your pain.
I’m a card-carrying member of the I Hate You, Mommy club. Why is it they don’t seem to say it to dads so much? I’m sure my girl hasn’t.
Hang in there. I got some good advice on my post yesterday that might be worth checking out if you have a chance. In the meantime, there’s Mr. Vino.
Apparently 2 1/2 is the age at which my son decided to become bipolar. So far he hasn’t said he hates me, though. Lucky me.
No advice here. Except, drink lots of wine and pray.
I have three year old triplets and had visions of abandoning them in Mexico earlier this week. Personally, I like reading stories written by people who have one three year old, because when I see that they too are losing their mind … I realize that maybe I’m not the psycho after all. It really IS the kids.