Is This Really My Child?

I wonder if my son was switched at birth. It just doesn't seem possible that he could be related to my daughter. My girl is such a mellow kid. We're moving soon and it's not bothering her at all. I was neurotic about moving her because I moved so much as a kid but she just takes a look at her new walk-in closet, says "cool" and is good-to-go.

My son freaks out if I leave the room.

My son is the kid you see in the McDonald's play area climbing on the side of play structure above the "do not climb" sign. He's the kid who picks up the bark at the park and throws it everywhere. I am the mom everyone looks at like "can't you control your kid?" No. Not really.

He's killing me.

I mentioned on my sci-fi blog how my son is going through a potty mouthed phase. At first I didn't believe what I was hearing. My son is a little bit speech-delayed (he's too busy climbing the walls to worry about talking) and his words aren't always that clear. At first I thought, well maybe he's saying "sit." But no, he wasn't explaining what his toys were doing on the floor, he really was exclaiming "shit!" whenever something didn't go his way. *Sigh* I got stop saying that every time I find that he got into the permanent ink markers and christened my couch....again. I still haven't figured out how to get the black ink off his belly from last time.

This week it's Halloween. To most people that might mean costumes but to my son it means candy. More specifically, chocolate. I will say this, the child has the good taste to prefer chocolate over all the other stuff most taste-impaired children go for. My daughter will trade a Kit-Kat for a gummy worm. Helloooooo? But not my son. He holds up his candy bar triumphantly and cries out "CHOCOLATE!" before smearing it all over his face and my furniture.

And now I'm trying to move and deal with this child. I'm pulling my hair out. He is the master of dragging the dining room chairs around to get into the higher cupboard-- or on top of the fridge. No place is safe from this child. I caught him with a knife the other day as he was trying to use it to open a candy package he had grabbed off of a high shelf.

And lest you think I leave this child unattended, let me assure you this is not the case. The last time he got a hold of a Sharpie, I had been following him around all morning. My husband has asked me to do all the transferring of utilities from the old house to the new, and I was making phone calls. I kept a note pad with me so I could be mobile and kept following my son as I made my calls. I'd go downstairs and dial and he'd immediately go upstairs. I'd follow him up as the phone was ringing and he'd turn around and go down. This went on for awhile until I got in the middle of a conversation with the cable company and realized after two minutes I my son was on the opposite floor again. I followed and found that he had pulled the Sharpies from the shelf (I think he stood on a box to get to them) tore open the package and got to work. He hit the couch, the kitchen floor, two tables and himself before I stopped the madness. Fortunately I got there before the ink was dry and managed to prevent any permanent damage. Thank God my husband wasn't home. The neighbors would have turned us in for sure.

But this is what it's like every day. I'm so tired I can't stand it. Between my family chaos and my son I need a sedative-- but I'm afraid I'd like the happy pills too much, so I'll stay away thank-you-very-much.

But what the heck do I do with a kid on testosterone overload? Seriously. Ideas?