# Chateau de la Tobler

## Sunday, September 09, 2007

### Frustration blended with love

Ezra.
He is almost four. He is testing his boundaries. He is a delight to cuddle and play, talk and laugh with. He is breaking my heart, and my temper, daily.
Friday was a day when he pretty much did nearly everything I have ever told him not to. He threw toys. He pushed Mercy (to be fair, at least a third of the time she pushed him first). He responded, "Yes!" when I asked him if we are supposed to fight, yell, be mean, shove, whatever.
After three strikes (warning, time-out upstairs, one last warning), he's out. Downstairs, on his bed, until he's ready to apologize/stop crying or yelling, whatever. As I carry him downstairs, he sobs, "I'll be good! I'm a good boy! I'll listen!"
It breaks my heart. I have to follow through; he has to have the consequence. And so I (try to) patiently explain, "Yes, I know you want to be good. I know you are a good boy. But you have to have a time-out because you broke the rules. This is the consequence." Or, "I'm sorry you're so tired/frustrated/wound-up that you can't listen. This time-out (or enforced nap) will help you so you can listen better next time."
But still his sobbing promises to listen to Mommy break my heart.
Today it was church. He wanted to play under the pew (crawl under, pop up on the backside, and come around to front of the pew and repeat); I wouldn't let him. But Gideon was cranky (naptime) and needed to be held in just that special Mommy way, Mercy was cranky (naptime) and needed to be held...therefore I couldn't hold Ezra immobile on my lap. Finally, Bradley had to take him out because of screaming and kicking. Once sacrament meeting was finally over (it was even ten minutes short today), Bradley took Ezra to sharing time and warned him: If you have to have another time-out, then you have to miss the rest of Primary and go home.
Guess where I am? It's not church. I turned over my props for senior primary music time to the Primary president, gather up my sobbing son, fetched my infant from Bradley, and came home. And put them both to bed.
What do I do? I'm so frustrated and sad and...I don't know. A blend of emotions. Is this normal? Is it common? Should I be looking for something that is making him act out? Or is this just part of growing up?
Growing up for him. And for me.
(By the way, I also have my Mercy here. I left with all the diaper supplies (which we NEVER need), and not two minutes after I left the nursery leaders brought Mercy to Bradley with a stinky diaper. So Bradley had to run home and drop her off, and then run back so he could teach the Elders Quorum lesson. What a day.)

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