'If you want more love, why don't you say so?'

Technically we have been in Lagos for 4 days now. If you don't count the day we landed. That means the last time we slept in beds that we would consider ours (i.e. in our house), with sheets and blankets and an obscene amount of pillows was 17 days ago. That also means I packed our bags about 19-20 days ago. In the big picture, this is no big shock to me as there is always a long transition on either side of a move. But for the kids, 3 weeks is a long time to be living out of a suitcase. And moving beds. And moving cities. And moving continents.

And in the big picture, my kids are doing great. They haven't asked if we can go home, they haven't said they hate it here, they haven't asked for very much at all. But they have been, as of late a huge pain in my ass.

My son, the 5 year old (see below), is in a particularly feisty phase. He is still a baby in so many ways (much more so than K was at 5. Or 3 for that matter). But he is a boy and he is my baby, so I only have myself to blame. He wants so badly to do big boy things - like control me and everything around him and yet he is my pokey puppy. He is barely 35 pounds. He has little legs. He has asthma and food allergies. He tires easily. He is unhappy when he is tired. And let me tell you, we are all tired. So when Mommy does something he does not want to do, this is what we get:

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed in the loudest, highest pitched sound you have ever heard. I think it could actually shatter glass.

"Humpf!" followed by whatever toy or book is nearby being kicked in our direction, but not so close that we could claim he injured us.

A huge spitting noise complete with a tongue being stuck out in our direction. I'm not really sure what the word is but Im pretty sure Looney Tunes invented it. A zerbit? Regardless, we are being spit at.

An incessant word being said over and over and over with a sh*t-eating grin of defiance. Usually in the form of "CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO, CUCKOO". It's like verbal water-boarding.

An 5-year old level insult: "You're mean"; "I don't like you", "Well I'm not talking to you anymore" and my all-time personal favorite - "You're a fart".

The thing is, 50% of the time I hold my ground. I take away his beloved trains. I put him in time-out. I threaten to withhold special activities like pool time and birthday parties (let's face it, always an empty threat). But the rest of the time, especially lately, I just let him crawl up into my lap and let him be grumpy and mean to me. Because the fact that he willingly crawls into my lap and buries his head in my chest and seems completely relaxed tells me he just needs some loving. And to vent. And to be mad. And to call me a fart.

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