Jackson, {sigh}

One day when I was complaining about how I felt I was earning an "F" in every facet of my life, except maybe one, Brad replied, "You must be spending too much time on one subject."

How true that is.

That "subject" is Jackson and the only reason I feel I am earning an "E" is the fact that he is still alive. (Seriously, I think he is part feline because he must have 9 million lives after all the sticky situations he's gotten himself into--and amazingly survived.)

Between the "self-sufficiency" in the kitchen (or anywhere else for that matter), the "hide and seek" in the grocery store, the cleaning up his trashed room a couple of times during the day and then a few times when he is supposed to be sleeping, and well, just cleaning him after he has eaten--or touched--anything.

(I thought fruit roll ups were pretty safe and neat to eat, but after seeing him eat one in a clothing store change room and have red, gooey, ooze all over his face, hands, and a few articles of clothing I had picked out, let me know just how wrong I was.)

I used to look at parents of "other" Jacksons and think to myself that those parents just aren't doing their jobs, and how could they let their children run around like wild animals.

Now my eyes have been opened and I will not judge any other parent again. I am sure they are all judging me.

We have tried parenting him.

When we were driving on the highway and he decided to take off his seat belt and open the car door, we explained (in very stern tones while rebooting the child proof lock) how unsafe that was and that he could die.

"Do you want to die and never see your parents again?"

"Yes, yes. I want to die."

(Or while instructing him about proper behavior in parking lots, such as holding hands with a parent instead of running wild on your own, so you don't get run over by a car he exclaimed, "Watch me! I'm going to get run o-ver by c-ar!")

I've tried time outs, particularly when he doesn't want to eat his dinner, only to be hungry later and find some kind of banned food that he has cleverly stored somewhere. However, he now BEGS to go to time out and happily calls out, "I'm in the corn-er!!"

When he was a baby, we resorted to physical punishment.

For his biting problem, I finally took our mother's advice and bit him back.

Long and hard.

His little face puckered up like I had just cut off his arm.

He screamed for 20 seconds.

And then he stuck his little fingers in my mouth for another round!

The truth of the matter is, these parents of this "wild animal" are just plain exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally spent.

And just when you think you are at the end of your rope, he will beam his little smile at you, say "I'm sau-rey" and give you a big, sloppy kiss. Truly, I think his cuteness is his innate survival mechanism.

I can only hope that he somehow makes it to adulthood in one piece.

Or at least until we can enroll him in school and have a few hours to catch our breath every so often.