296.01

Why is 2 such a Bipolar age? This morning, Sasha came into my room at 7:30 (Zane had to leave before 7 this morning, so it was just me) and snuggled for 15 minutes. For him, granted, "snuggling" means turn over, stand up, look out the window, fall down into my head, get under the covers, adjust the covers, get out of the covers, get in the covers, etc. Still, so sweet. Smiles, loves, totally manic. Well, maybe hypomanic. Then, a half hour later, he's screaming, hitting, and throwing a tantrum. Depression! What brought on this tantrum? Well, I don't know. Maybe Sabrina moved the chair with his blanket on it, or he said her stuffed animal was his and she said "no mine," or maybe Sabrina was sitting close to me and he wanted to. Right now, he's upside down kicking his feet in the air. He's wearing his super...hero shirt, and just kicked me in the head. He said, "Sowwwy, Mom," and turned right-side up. I don't trust it. At any time he could turn into a wild, screeching version of 2. What if I give him the wrong shoes? Being a mom is hard. It's not that I don't love it (especially during the hypomanic phases), but when I have to play the "AAAA" game to deal with Sasha's tantrums (that's when he scream, so I scream, so he screams, and eventually he's smiling), it's hard. Although the pouty, fold arms, run to couch and stick out lip part is pretty darn cute.