You hit the jackpot.
You’re able to get away for a night or two, get someone to watch the kid and grab a nice dinner, get a nice buzz, and relax. You’re granted a brief reprieve from the terrible twos or terrible threes or whatever the case may be, and you have a well-deserved night or two of child-free fun. It’s been a long time coming, and it won’t be coming along again anytime soon.
And yet, despite your need for time away from him, you can’t help but miss your kid. Despite your better instincts, you actually can’t wait to get home and see him!
Until you do.
For parents, absence makes the heart grow fonder. For kids, familiarity breeds contempt.
All weekend long, all you’ve been hearing from your sister or your brother or your parents is what a little angel your kid has been. He’s eating like a champ, sleeping through the night, staying calm when told ‘no’ and generally acting like Christ reborn. He’s such a good little boy! It just reinforces your desire to be reunited, vacation be damned!
Then you walk in and it all goes to hell in a hurry.
Suddenly it’s a 15-minute struggle just to get his shoes on. He’s acting like a lunatic, running away from you, screaming ‘no!’ and generally making your family reunion worse than a high school reunion. It’s kind of amazing to see the Jekyll and Hyde routine in action. Forget about drinking a potion and waiting around for a transformation; my son’s behavior changes instantaneously. And then, so does mine.
At first, you’re excited to see his sweet little face, and you want nothing more than to give him a big hug, but it doesn’t take long before you’re frustrated, pissed off, and yelling at the kid to do as he’s told and get his goddamn shoes on! Meanwhile, your sister-in-law or your brother or your parents – having seen nothing but the best from the little guy all weekend long – are quickly convinced you’re overreacting, which makes you feel even worse.
It’s great for his reputation – everyone in my family thinks he’s the perfect child – but it’s terrible for ours. People either think we have an amazingly low threshold for tolerating (such infrequent!) toddler antics and are therefore shitty parents, or they think we’re completely insane. It’s like being the guy who actually was abducted by aliens and trying to convince everyone else that it happened. “Okay, buddy. Have another.”
He’s so convincing, and everyone else is so taken by his charming personality and perfect manners and general joie de vivre, that at first it makes you question yourself. “Maybe I’m too hard on him after all!” Then you get him home, the switch is flipped, and he’s flopping around on the ground screaming at the top of his lungs because he accidentally got some yogurt on his pinky.
If you were to babysit my son, you’d probably think he was the greatest toddler of all time. You’d get him on his best behavior, in his best mood, and you’d wonder why I constantly bitch about him on my blog. And then Mommy and Daddy would walk through the door and, to quote one of his favorite movies, “good feeling gone!”
Look, I’m no psychologist. I don’t know the official behavioral/developmental reasons my kid acts like Shirley Temple when we’re gone and like Problem Child when we get back, but I’m pretty sure it’s either because he feels like when we’re not around he’s on vacation too, or it’s because he’s the devil.
His personality seems so fluid, so fungible, that it’s enough to make you wonder: Is he faking his good behavior or his bad behavior? Which version is the real him? Does he have a split personality? Is my child a sociopath? Probably not. Many parents have dealt with the frustration of a child that behaves better for other people than he does for them, so either we’re all raising a generation of psychopaths (definitely possible) or it’s just a phase most kids go through (probably more likely).
Either way, a Hannibal Lecter mask might be a good idea. Just in case the kid bites.
7 thoughts on “Split Personality”
I live this virtually every single day. My daughter is an angel and a joy to be around at daycare (according to everyone there) but the moment we get home she turns into a demonic, possessed, hell spawn child.
That (the demonic part), of course, is slightly exaggerated but we’re never sure which toddler will be making her appearance each evening. Parenting version of Russian Roulette, I suppose….
Dude. Happens to me every day picking up my minion from daycare. I used to worry the daycare lady thought we were beating him mercilessly every night, and then it went on long enough that I stopped caring what she thought…
This happens with my 3 year old daughter all the time! But I got the last laugh when I drove cross country to see the hubby after his 9 month deployment. (Thanks Navy, NOT!)My mother very happily watched our daughter, then 2, and our two dogs for the 8 days I was gone. I called every day to check in and the first two were the same as always: “Everything is fine. She’s behaving, the dogs are being good. No problems.” Then, day 3: “Oh My GOD! Your daughter….!! And your dogs…!!!” I honestly don’t remember what she said happened but I remember the pure joy I felt hearing her rant on and on. That’s right mom, she’s not the angel you thought! And I’m not imagining or overreacting about her behavior! Muhahaha!
My boys are older but still do this to an extent. I think there is something about being away from the familiar that impacts them.
I pity your sorry existence and pity my own too, because they sound more or less identical. Such two-faced little scoundrels. The only thing you might be missing out on, is having two kids of a similar age – so when one of them surprises you by NOT freaking out for a moment, you can be pretty sure the other one makes up for it.
I wonder if there is some biological reason? I mean, what purpose does it serve? Does it provide the kids with a necessary way to release their angst? Does it test the parents, so that weak ones break and get discarded? I can’t see the point! Surely there must be a point beyond them just being tired and stroppy?
Wait, so sometimes it’s NOT a 15-minute struggle to get his shoes on?
Actually, you’re right. I was just taking some creative license. Trying to put anything on the kid’s feet is my Vietnam.