The F***ing Fours

The boys are back at school after a wonderful Christmas and New Year spent with family. It was lovely to be away at the cottage for the holidays again this year, but its equally lovely to be back at home and have Owen and William in school during the week. Is that harsh? Do I sound like a mean mummy? I don't mean to be, its just the reality of living with two boys going through the F***ing Fours at the same time.

Sorry? What's that? You don't know about the F***ing Fours? You've only heard of the Terrible Twos, I suppose. I was as clueless as you before October 2010. Clueless and a little cocky, to be honest, because I thought we'd done pretty well to avoid too much drama during the Terrible Twos. I seem to recall the boys were fairly pleasant that year. Well I've got my comeuppance this year. We've made up for it in spades because now we're right smack dab in the middle of the F***ing Fours and I'm ready to throw in the towel. Can't anyone see my little white flag on a stick being waved frantically about in the air? Stop the ride, I want to get off.

Lordy. Its just constant. If they're not fighting with each other - "I don't yike you, Owen! You're not my best fwiend anymore!", "Mumma, Will is trying to push me down the stairs!", "MUMMY! Owen BITED me!" and so on and so on and so on ad infinitum - then they're taunting each other in sickly sweet voices until the physical fighting resumes - "Sorry, Will, but you can't have this toy because Mumma gave it to me", "Sorry Owen but you can't pway with Wyatt today because we don't yike you."

And when they're done with each other, they turn on me. Owen's favorite thing to shout at me when he's angry (because I have doled out a consequence to some inappropriate behaviour/have not yielded to his demands/have insisted he eat his meal/told him he couldn't watch tv all day/looked at him the wrong way) is "I HATE you, Mumma-BUMMA!" Charmed, I'm sure. William on the other hand just turns into a fiery ball of rage that storms and stamps and incoherently screams its way around the house.

Oh yeah, fun times.

I've been told that this behaviour, whilst rather challenging to the parents, is perfectly normal. They are so well behaved at school that when they come home tired and hungry, their only recourse is what my friend calls "emotional vomit". They know they're in a safe place, and are loved unconditionally, so the pent up emotions of the day just spew out of their tired little mouths. Doesn't make it any easier for poor Mumma-Bumma though.

They don't show this stuff in any of the marketing for baby items do they? Its always a mother beautifully made up, smiling serenely at her sleeping baby. Where's the mother pulling her hair out wearing yesterday's sweats as her four year old sticks his tongue out at her. I don't recall a chapter in What To Expect When You're Expecting entitled How To Cope When Your Darling, Sweet Baby Hits The F***ing Fours And Morphs Into A Troll. Guess the world might be a little less populated if we had a chapter like that.

So how do I cope? Well, sometimes I don't. But my New Year's Resolution to myself was to be a better mother. To not rise to the bait and scream back, to not lose my temper at every turn, to try to remember to take deep breaths and speak calmly, to let them know that my arms are always open for a hug, no matter how much I just want to say "NO HUGS FOR YOU, YOU LITTLE MONSTER!" To enjoy the quiet times with Elly during the day and focus on the good behaviour when the boys are home.

And to try to remember that by all accounts, seven is a wonderful age.