I'm exhausted

And it's only noon. Ouch. My son, my lovely son Brice, is taking me precariously close to the edge. Have I mentioned he is strong-willed? We have yet to feed him without him throwing his food on the floor. And he waits for us to look at him, then he smiles, and throws it. We say, "Brice, do NOT throw your food." Pick it up, wipe the floor, give him the benefit of the doubt. Then, he's angry because we said no to him. So he opens his mouth, pulls the chewed but not swallowed food out, and tosses it. Then he looks at me and smiles. So I say "no" again and give him a flick on the hand. Which REALLY ticks him off, so he starts screaming and banging his head back against the high chair and THROWS his sippy cup across the kitchen. Nice. He also hits and pinches Harry when i'm trying to feed him among a myriad other minor and major infractions. And nothing, NOTHING will deter him. I'm reading every discipline book I can get my hands on and they're so helpful--flick his hand, don't flick his hand because that is how he explores his world, spank him, don't spank him--you'll teach him violence is okay; give him a time-out, don't bother with time-outs, etc. Do you get the picture? 

I keep reminding myself that he is one. Not even one and half. I will not be beaten by a little midget who can't even control his bladder. It's like I used to tell my first-graders, "There are sitcoms that have been around longer than you. You don't run anything but your mouth and that's going to stop, too." Not that Brice can even talk yet. Oh, infant is now screaming, must attend to infant.