The Day My 8-Year-Old Went Psycho

It started out like any other day. Actually, it was better because my husband was planning to take my youngest to school. Yes, THE kid who went psycho was getting driven to school because it was 18 outside and his parents mom didn’t want to wait at the bus stop in the cold. So we got to sleep in. I even snoozed once, so it was 39 extra minutes of sleep, and it was awesome. Little did I know what was to happen.

It doesn’t usually get this cold here in coastal North Carolina, so the news people have been talking all week about the frigid temperatures and wind chill. I’m from Iowa, so having temps in the teens with wind chills in the single digits don’t scare me, but it’s been a while since I’ve been in that sort of cold. And I’ve become a cold weather baby. Pansy some might say.  I digress.

So we planned accordingly. I woke up feeling pretty refreshed (40 minutes extra does really help – it’s like a power nap add-on to regular sleep) and I went in to wake up my 8-year-old. He was all cozy and warm and I hopped in bed and woke him up gently. I got a little nuzzle from him and he woke up happy. I went to get my layers on because my house is a two-story with a crawl space and one thermostat, so needless to say, the downstairs is FREEZING and the upstairs is toasty warm.

He ate his Cheerios, dad got 12-year-old up, and it seemed like a nice, smooth morning. Until it was time for 8-year-old to leave for school. It’s not supposed to be over 34 degrees today, and I don’t know if the kids will go out for recess “because of the cold”. They may, and they should (for everyone’s sake), but I wanted him to be warm. He always wears this little “coat” thing, which is basically a shirt with a hood, and is not enough to keep him warm if they go out for recess, so I “GASP” told him to get his thicker coat on and wear it to school. Then all hell broke loose.

The scene

The scene

Now the 8-year-old is known for having some epic tantrums over things that don’t make sense, like a plate, his lunch box, or dust. Oy, that reminds me of a time when my oldest had a meltdown over the word “damp” one time…. It’s been a while, so I guess we were due. He said that he didn’t want to wear the coat because it was too big. He would be embarrassed because it hangs down too far over his hands and waist (it fits perfectly actually, and he even said so when I had him try it on before I took the tags off, to which I reminded him, to which he replied that I MADE him keep it and he didn’t get it to pick it out to which I just sighed).

My husband and I looked at each other, smirked a little which totally pissed off 8-year-old because this was a very serious matter, and then muttered, “He’s gone mad.” (Funnier if you said it in a British accent because we’re totally not British.)  “He’s off his rocker.”  “The 8-Year-Old (I would use his name here but I think he was actually possessed by someone else so I would be lying if I used his name because that’s totally just not him) has gone psycho.” Then that reminded me of a book the boys have.

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Here’s a few things he said while sitting, face in hands, teary-eyed, as we commenced with our stand-off.

“My friends will make fun of me because my coat is too big.”

“I’m not wearing this coat when I get to school.”

“I’m never wearing this coat again.”

“It’s so big.”

“The coat is just way too big.”

“Why are you making me do this?”

“I’m not going to wear this coat.”

“Why do I always have to do things I don’t want to do.”

“What would you do if you had to wear something too big for you” – Now this one was probably the best because all I did was stand up, lift my arms, and showed him my XXL sweatshirt that I wear EVERY DAY with a comment, “Well, I wear things that are too big for me ALL THE TIME and I LIKE IT. So there.” He didn’t appreciate my example.

Ten whole friggin’ minutes later, he was still sitting, teary-eyed, refusing to get in the car to go to school. Maybe “You’re wearing that coat to school if we have to put you in the car and strap you in ourselves” along with the crazy eyes we get when we’ve had enough was good enough to convince him to go ahead and get in the car. I got my wet kiss goodbye and my husband drove off with my 8-year-old.  And I refused to let him take his old thin coat to school because I knew then that he would be forced to wear the evil coat at recess and on the bus home. Take that, stubborn child! You’re mother is even more stubborn, so THERE!

As soon as husband and 8-year-old drove away, I looked at my 12-year-old, who was shaking his head like “wow” and I said, “Now you know what you look like when YOU do that. You may want to re-think it next time.” He agreed.

My husband and I texted when he got to work as in WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? And “Ryan (yes, using his name) went totally psycho….over a coat.”

Husband then had to fill me in on the complaints made in the car on the way to school.

“Why are you putting me through this torture?”

“You’re going to tell me what to do for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll never get to do anything I want to do.”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I’d rather be cold than wear this jacket.”

When my 8-year-old gets like this, you have to let it run its course. You just cannot rationalize with him when he goes psycho, so I’ll be interested in hearing what he has to say when he gets home from school this afternoon. One thing I’m almost certain of is that I will be giving his coat to the school to give to a kid who doesn’t have one. I picked my battle for today, but I won’t battle my son over this coat one more time. If he gets cold, he’ll learn.

I realized that I HAD to blog about this. I’m sure anyone with kids can relate and anyone who doesn’t have them or has kids out of the house can appreciate it just as much. It might explain why some people come to work in the morning with crazy eyes and messy hair. It’s not the fatigue, it’s not the wind, it’s not stress from traffic on the way to work, it’s from dealing with your son who went psycho one morning.

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You can’t make this shit up.

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Categories: kid issues, kids, temper tantrum | Tags: , , | 14 Comments

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14 thoughts on “The Day My 8-Year-Old Went Psycho

  1. Connie

    Dad and I read the story this morning and can’t wait to read the ‘rest of the story’!! Good luck!!

    • Haha, ill be sure to post an update. I can’t remember if you’ve been lucky enough to witness those doozy tantrums.

      • Connie

        Yes, we have witnessed a few of them by Ryan. More by Tyler since he was ‘that’ age when we all lived in Sioux City. Hahahahahahaha!

  2. Totally blew his top. That is one for the books…I couldn’t help but laugh this morning….and on the way to school….if I could video him getting out of the car at school…epic!

  3. The windchill after school here today was -2F and there were LOTS of students leaving the building to get on the bus carrying their coats…UGH!!

  4. Ahhh so the crazy doesn’t stop at 3 then. Last night my daughter had an epic tantrum at 1am because the cat was in her room. The. Cat. Was. In. Her. Room.

    Damn life ruining big coats.

    • How DARE the cat be in her room!!! Of all the nerve. The crazy never stops, it just evolves. We should all have psychology training to be able to deal with it. I guess that’s what blogs are for 🙂

  5. You mean its not acceptable to throw temper tantrums for no reason? Damn it. I throw tantrums when I have to go to Walmart. I hate that place. Haha. I love this – always fun to laugh about later. And you have it recorded for posterity’s sake!

    • I get tired of going to Walmart but the tantrum would be pointless since no one is here to hear me gripe about it. As soon as I get home and unload my 5000 bags of crap, there’s new crap put on the list to get the next time. It never ends. My son’s coat saga isn’t quite over, but we certainly haven’t let him forget about it. 🙂

  6. Thanks for the smile. My son had that book too!

    This story reminds me of when my son was around that age and we served him pasta with tomato sauce, which he’d decided he didn’t like. So he took one look at his dinner and wailed, “You’re making me eat…” a pause for dramatics “…Food!”

    Even he knew his complaint was absurd because he had to try hard not to laugh at himself. I responded, “Ya know, I refuse to feel bad about feeding you food. Maybe you’d rather rocks next time?”

    To this day, we all joke about giving him rocks for dinner.

  7. Pingback: 17 Miles of Self Doubt | Running Boston And Beyond

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