The Outbursts are back

I wrote about this in my other blog.  I forgot what this was like.

 Today I feel heavy.  My morning did not go as planned and I feel like my relationship with my son has suffered.  He's 7.  He'll probably be back to his cuddly self later when I see him, but this morning was rough.  It began with a Party Pillow.  It's this freaking adorable thing my kids do where they pile all the blankets and pillows and stuffed animals on one of their beds and climb in and talk.  It was created by them, initiated by them and it's just beautiful.  Grant got up first this morning and went downstairs.  We called him up to the bathroom to take his pill and while he was up there, I had him go in his room to grab his clothes. He didn't want to, but went reluctantly.  Instead of grabbing his clothes, he started playing with Nora, who hadn't gotten out of bed yet.  They decided to have a Party Pillow and it had to include blankets from downstairs.  I watched as the minutes before we had to get going to school ticked by, but loved the interaction between my two kids so much, I let it slide.  It was 6:45.  Grant didn't have to get dressed until 7:30.  There was time.  I got pictures of them being cute and finally decided to go downstairs and start my morning chorees. I went to the basement and switched the laundry and then I came upstairs to start breakfast.  I yelled up the stairs that it was 7:30 and time for Grant to stop what he was doing and get dressed.  Then I went to fry some sausages on the stove.   While I was preparing Grant's breakfast quesadilla, I started to hear Nora cry.  She was upset and increasingly so.  I ran to the bottom of the stairs with sausages still frying and asked Grant why him getting dressed was making Nora cry?   Grant said he had messed up Nora's game (by that time, she was on the floor playing with her toys and arranging a "game" only she understands) on accident.  I had Nora screaming, sausages potentially burning, and a strong desire for Grant to just come downstairs and finish getting ready.  I yelled up the stairs for Grant to just come down.  He started screaming that it was an ACCIDENT.  I said that the crying she was doing was the kind of cry that means something is still happening.  If he had said, "oh, I'm sorry, Nora.  Let me help you pick it up" she wouldn't be crying like this.  He said again that it was an accident.  I said then why did I hear him laughing when I asked him about it.  He said he was trying to hold it in.  And then he exploded.  I had screamed louder than normal, which probably ignited his amygdala and he started crying and screaming back. He threw his shirt onto the stairs (thankfully he was otherwise dressed) and started knocking things that were on the ledge down the stairs.  He then went and got his shirt and while screaming, he tried to rip it.  He even used his teeth to try and rip it up, but it held.  Instead, he threw it at me and screamed at me.  I told him I would take away the switch and his tablet if he did not come down.  He said keep them, he doesn't care and stormed upstairs to knock around the bathroom.  I had to go back to my sausage, so I let him go and finished preparing his breakfast.  By the time I was done, both kids were in the living room.  Nora was smiling and playing and Grant sat sullenly in the chair.  I apologized for screaming and asked for a hug.  We were better, but something was off the rest of the morning.  I hate this so much.