Terrible twos? I think not!

Before I had children, I would see poor, exhausted, stressed, anxious, bewildered parents in stores, restaurants or church and I would think...(wait for it)..."that will NEVER be me." After all, I have two education degrees and 10 years of experience dealing with children. I KNOW children...they like consistency, they thrive on routines, they will be perfect darlings if treated correctly with the right amount of consequences, rewards for appropriate behavior and positive discipline. DUH!

We had it good for a while. People, even strangers, would stop me to tell me how well-behaved a little boy Danny was. "He's so quiet," they would say. "He's so happy and content to sit in church coloring in his little book." Yes, yes...I know, he's an angel. "My son would never have behaved so well." But, of course...I am the best mother in the world.

Somewhere between Ben being born, Danny turning 3 and today's post, things have gone inexplicably haywire. After the fight over my shoe choice (an adorable hand-me-down set of loafers) for Danny today, and a brief stay in time-out, we blew into the "cry room" at church 15 minutes late, whereupon Dan kicked off the much-maligned shoes and demanded raisins at top voice. He made it through most of the Mass pretty well, but toward the end, refused to put said shoes back on and then pushed his brother down causing a brief crying spell (Kevin and I were crying, not Ben).

I have heard a lot of my mommy friends say that their children were much harder to handle when they turned 3 as opposed to 2. I have a theory about the "terrible twos" thing. I think people tell you about the "terrible twos" in an attempt to give you one whole year to prepare for the really tricky "threes". I appreciate that and all, but please, people...give me the straight scoop on these little heathens darlings.

And, what about all of my educational theories, my study of behavior strategies, my 10 years of experience? I do think they help a wee bit. But, the harder questions...is it possible (gasp) that this is somehow my fault and I'm ruining my kids for life? Are they going to grow up laughing in the face of authority? How can I stop myself from imagining them in orange jumpsuits?

I'm just chalking my boys' personalities up to them being spirited and goal-oriented. Yeah, let me practice this for when you see me at Target, or Cheddar's or St. Mary's Church, looking bewildered and anxious..."My boys are strong-willed and loud and completely precocious, but I'm loving every minute of it!"