Power struggle

I cried when my oldest went to preschool...and kept being very weepy all day until he finally got home and was so happy, it allayed all my fears. It was a repeat when little Dakota followed Louis to the busstop just three years later, because I thought my last baby was growing up and leaving me. But then...there came Houstan, and it turned out she wasn't the baby after all!

All summer I've been wrestling that kid to stop pulling Dakota's hair, stop hitting Louis, stop crawling in bed with me. And this morning when the big kids got on the bus and it was just us two again, part of my heart just ripped to shreds. Partly because I know he goes next year, and I don't want to let him go yet. But part of it is because I REALLY wanted him to go today!

Everyone who knows me, knows my baby. He's 4, going on 40. He thinks he can do anything the older kids and the parents can do, but when things don't go his way, he says, "Mom, you don't want to hurt your baby." Somehow, every time, those words with his little puppy eyes and pooched-out bottom lip keep me from giving him the discipline he really needs-usually a swat on the rump!

And he cries so softly and broken-heartedly when I tell him at night that he can't sleep with me, that more often than not, he ends up in my bed with his father and I end up on the couch. The baby hates to sleep alone and I can't sleep at all with him in the bed, so he wins.

Now let me just say, I've always gotten a kick out of those supernanny and Nanny 9-1-1 shows. I think the families on them are completely incompetent to have children and most of them should have been steralized before they were ever able to procreate and further the stain on society that their bloodlines leaves everywhere it rambles. However, I have recently found myself at my wit's end, to coin a phrase, with my youngest monster...er, child. He's defiant and disobedient, but often as sweet as sugar. He's mean as heck when he doesn't get his way and impatient with anyone would doesn't move as fast as the Flash. But then he will launch into songs that usually start out with, "I love mommy, she loves me. We are best friends and she is my mommy..." It doesn't rhyme, of course, and doesn't even really sound like music, but out of the clear blue, those kind words are like a symphony to rival all the greats. He has a temper similar to that of a hurricane, but without a National Weather Service to warn the people of impending disaster. His frightful fits drop out of the sky with no more provocation than someone looking at him in such a way that he wasn't fond of. He'll throw things, scream, attack a person with his fingers and feet and teeth, often drawing blood with too-long finger nails or leaving bruises with his pitbull-like jaws. He breaks things by throwing them at people's heads and has more than once broken skulls with rocks, golf clubs, or other heavy metal objects. I can be sitting right beside him, and he will pick up a bowl and throw it across the room, through a window screen and hit a sibling without my even knowing he is angry, and certainly too fast for me to get my arms around him to prevent his mischief. And, sad to say, I am actually afraid of him...

I've silently called my youngest child "devil-baby" because he has this face that reminds me of something my mind conjured up when reading a Dean Koontz novel about Satan. He has absolutely no concept of personal space, or pain, and will literally come and jump on a person who is lying on the floor, just because he wants their pillow. When I say jump on someone, I do not mean jump off to the side and tackle someone somewhat gently. I mean he will jump straight up in the air and land on someone's face, chest, stomach, or other body part with both feet or his knees. Or, to get more altitude, he will climb on the table, computer desk, or couch and launch himself at someone's prone body, usualy hitting their stomach with his head and kicking their head with his knees or feet. I've tried reasoning with him. "Son, how do you think it feels to have your teeth broken out by someone's feet?" "It hurts." "Then why did you do that to your brother?" "Because I hate him and we don't need a brother and I want to kill him."

I've tried time-outs. He gets up and leaves. The point of a time-out is to allow him time alone to think about his misdeeds, as well as not get the attention he's seeking, so if a parent stays with him to keep him there, the bad behavior is being reinforced, so that didn't work.

He's not nearly as scared of me as I am of him. I threatened him once with a spanking if he didn't stop hitting people, so he could see what it felt like, and he said he didn't care. So he continuted his behavior, I spanked him, he cried, went to his room, and he got mad at Dakota for making me spank him, so he pulled her hair out with his teech the next time she came close enough to her to grab it. I can't see wailing on his butt all the time, either, if it's just going to perpetuate his natural violence.

Negative reinforcement, positive reinforcement, negative punishments, and positive punishments all turn out the same exact thing with this kid-he does whatever he wants with no fear of any consequences.

What the heck do you do with a kid like this?

I washed his mouth out with soap once for saying a bad word, and that worked really well. He's never said it again. But now he likes to chew on soap.