PMSWD

I admit it. I was in a bad mood last time I wrote. Benny’s “I wants” had reached critical, crazy-making proportions and I was in desperate need of, a.) a stiff drink, b.) valium, or c.) a hitman (that’s a joke of course… I really couldn’t afford one).

Today, as I write, I am full of love and mushiness for my sweet, endearing Benny. He has been the embodiment of loveliness and serenity all day. I’m hoping it is a new phase. But I fear it has more to do with the big scrape on his chin (thanks to yesterday’s park time shenanigans) coupled with a stinking cold. There’s nothing like sickness and injury to make a child docile, compliant, and thus completely lovable.

Anyway, this all reminds me once again how fickle (and, yes, a little schizophrenic) parenting makes us. One minute our knuckles are turning white, our nostrils flaring, our jaws clenching, as our beloved child sits on the floor stubbornly refusing to do one of the following: put their coat on, go to bed, eat dinner, remove themselves from the pile of crumbs and spilt orange juice they have just created. The next moment the same creature gives you a smile (with dimples), sings “Bob the Builder” in that goofy voice, plants a kiss on the exposed bit of belly just above your low-riders, and instantly you are jar of melty, smushy goo, doling out kisses and cries of “I love you” at every turn.

It’s really time the pharmaceutical companies cashed in and developed a PMSWD: a parent-mood-stabilizing-wonder drug.