Hostage

Imagine you are relaxing in your house when suddenly a stranger barges in, kidnaps you, and takes you to an unfamiliar place. The people holding you hostage are nice enough -- you are comfortable and well-fed -- but they don't let you wander far, and you don't understand why you're there in the first place.

On top of that, they throw you into the car and take you someplace different every day, never telling you where you're going. Sometimes it's to some sort of camp that has other prisoners like you (it's not a terrible prison, considering there's a playground and all, but still). Other times they take you to a small room where you get to be reunited with your family for a little while, only to be torn once again from their embrace. You never know when you'll see them again or for how long. Each separation from them breaks another tiny bit of your heart.

As dramatic as it may sound, I think this is exactly how little H is experiencing life right now. He gives us clues, such as filling his arms with every possible book, toy and blanket whenever we have to leave the house, stocking up for his unknown journey ahead (this might just be a normal 2-yr-old thing, I dunno). And the trips to visit the parents -- 4 hours at a time, twice a week -- are more emotionally draining each time. Last night he refused to leave his car seat when we got home, sobbing and begging to be returned to his real dad.

Other than little stuff like that, I think we're having a mostly normal parenting experience. Well... you tell me if this is normal:

- H, do you want some strawberries?
- Yes!
- Okay, just put on your cape (aka bib).
- NOOOO!!!
- Okay, do you want the strawberry?
- NO!
- Okay, are you all done then?
- NOOOO!!!
- Okay please for the love of god tell us what y---
- NOOOOOOO!!!

And then, full meltdown mode for a couple minutes, and then the spigot of tears gets turned off in an instant and he's ready to eat the strawberry again. Sometimes we'll get into a death spiral where we try once again to put on the cape and the fight starts over, and other times we'll just give him what he wants. Once in a while he'll even give in and do what we ask, and it's glorious. It seems like the art of parenting is knowing when to hold your ground and when to concede.

In all this, Beth and I actually are doing quite well! We're running on fumes, but our tanks are never quite empty. I'll expand on us maybe another time, but right now I have to go wake up the hostage and force-feed him some gruel.