Julie Tullos

Toddlers on steroids. I highly recommend this. Miserable for children and adults. NON STOP crying. So fun. Just how you always wanted to spend your Thanksgiving week.

Almost two weeks ago Baby Girl started feeling a little under the weather. A little warm, a little cough, a runny nose. Off and on for about a week. Then last Sunday as Sissy curled our hair and we all got ready to go to our Family Christmas Pictures appointment Baby Girl started acting a little cranky. In the truck she was whiny and fussy. Now that’s pretty normal for her – she hates to be in the car seat. But once we get to the location Baby Girl refuses to participate. No smiles, no being still and sweet. No playing with the photographer or laughing with Sissy or Daddy. Aggravating of course, but we got through it.

So then we decided to go to dinner. We get to Olive Garden and Baby Girl does not want to eat. I notice her cheeks are red. The wind, Daddy and Sissy say. I say that’s not normal. As always, Mama knows. Pretty soon Baby Girl is curled up in my lap on the booth seat, not eating and not misbehaving. She falls asleep on the way home. Now I’m getting pretty worried. All of this is VERY unlike her. She’s usually grabbing at food and trying to crawl across the table, or eating the sugar directly out of the packets while I try in vain to actually enjoy what I’m eating.

Next morning I take Baby Girl to her regular doctor – we think she has flu they say. But they can’t do the test for it because they don’t have any. So no definitive diagnosis. Spend a miserable afternoon and evening at home. Little did I realize that things were about to go seriously down hill. Next morning Baby Girl still has a fever. Later that afternoon we do some finger painting which she really enjoys. Then she wants to watch “Mouse” – Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is her favorite thing. At least it’s not Wonder Pets or Dora the Explorer. Although the whole Toodles thing just makes me crazy – how the hell does he hide all the tools and where do they go when they are done with them?!

Anyway, after a little while I come to check on her and she is lying on the floor whimpering and covered in goosebumps and she is BURNING UP. Temperature is 102.6! MAMA FREAKS OUT! Baby Girl has spent relatively little time being sick in her whole two and a half years. She wasn’t sick at all her whole first year. So this is a whole new battleground for which I am woefully unprepared. Call her doctor – doctor says take her to hospital. Now, Daddy is currently in Sherman visiting his Dad, who is also in the hospital. I call him up and tell him to get his a$$ back to Pilot Point.

Once I get her to the hospital she is laying limp in my arms, burning up and whimpering. Of course I have to freak my mom and dad out too so they can share in the worry and stress. They get us back to a Fast Track room (where I later learn is where they take you when they think you aren’t really an emergency and therefore you get a cubicle instead of a room and you get charged less AND you get an NP – not a fully fledged MD). At some lengthy point later they actually do a flu test and it comes back negative. Of course. So then they decide to x-ray her lungs because she is breathing a little weirdly. Or snoring like a freight train through a cold winter night, as I point out.

After about a hundred hours of waiting we finally get the x-ray. Then wait another twelve hours for the results which show Acute Bronchitis. I said “how bad is it?” Wise Guy NP says “bad enough to bring her to the hospital.” Huh. HE says her throat is fine, her ears are fine, her nose is fine. I’m a little skeptical but with the diagnosis I feel a little better. He prescribes antibiotics and steroids to help with the breathing and we go home.

He says wait til tomorrow morning to give her the steroid because it’ll keep  her awake. Thanks for the tip, Doc. Baby Girl and I spend a miserable night with her not breathing well, therefore not sleeping well and myself being totally stressed out and exhausted. That was Tuesday and Tuesday night. I think. I’ve lost all track of the days. This morning my husband asked me what time my first lesson is and I was like “what lessons?” Totally forgot it’s Saturday. Anyway, on Wednesday we give her the steroid. Now, she’s not eating anything at all so she’s hungry but I’m guessing her throat is hurting too bad to eat. Hungry equals cranky. Tired equals crankier. Fever equals Hang On to Mama and Don’t Let Go Even if She has to Pee.

Wednesday afternoon she falls asleep finally about 2:00 after being awake as per the doctor’s prediction. She’s still asleep at 5:00. Daddy says you better wake her up because if you don’t she will never sleep tonight. I’m gonna tell you right now mamas… NEVER LISTEN TO DADDY. I wake her up and she proceeds to cry for THREE HOURS. It was finally my own mom who pointed out that it was probably the steroid causing the tears and the misery. Trying to put her back to bed on Wednesday night I tell my husband I’m going to throw Baby Girl out the window. He takes pity on me and actually comes in to lay down with her. As he should since it was HIS FAULT she’s crying and screaming MILK! MILK! over and over and over and over.

Thursday morning I get to sleep in. After listening to Baby Girl cry (read: Freak the F&*K out) when Daddy went in to get her instead of me, she finally calms down and I go back to sleep. At 8:30 my husband wakes me up and says “Baby Girl isn’t feeling well.” Really? Well this is new news. It’s Thanksgiving morning. But unfortunately he’s serious. Temperature reads 105, 106 and 107. Stupid thermometer is clearly not working right. But she’s obviously burning up and whimpering again so…. back to the ER we go.

THIS time we are “upgraded” to private room, an MD and an even longer wait while they decide A) what is really going on and B) what new charges they can come up with. Pus all in the back of her throat. Tonsils wickedly swollen, lymph nodes swollen. Strep test is negative. MONO test is positive. How the hell does a toddler get mono?! So of course I google it. WebMD and all the other helpful sites say that if a young child gets mono, the symptoms are usually so light that most of the time you don’t even know they have it. Uh huh. Interesting. What a bunch of baloney. Baby Girl is sick enough to be in the ER on Thanksgiving Day. I don’t think that qualifies as “lightly symptomatic.”

So eventually (like 3 pm) we get to go home once again. My mom and dad have come anyway bearing turkey and all the fixings. They are at the house waiting for us, bless their hearts. My mom and I spend the late afternoon wondering why the thing on the turkey won’t pop up. My husband and my dad spend the afternoon fixing a broken water pipe by one of the paddocks. Baby Girl sleeps and is miserable. Turkey dinner at 7 pm! We are thankful for NOT currently being in the ER.

Friday I make the mistake of giving her the steroid again – she falls asleep twice on her own – once on the living room floor and once on the floor in her own room. This time I do not wake her up but as soon as she does wake up it’s NON STOP CRYING all over again. OH what fun! What joy! My parents take off to go back home. Can’t say that I blame them. Baby Girl spends the whole day crying, whining and clinging to me. But finally the day is over and steroid has worn off and the rest of the bottle is now in the trash can.

This morning Baby Girl has finally woken up without a fever. She is smiling and eating a cookie. She is playing. I realize she may have re-lapses over the next few weeks before she gets over this entirely but for now I am grateful for the respite.

We are thankful.

This past weekend opened up a whole new can of Mama Bear Roars that I didn’t even know existed. All her life Baby Girl has been gushed over and cooed at and told she’s adorable. As her Mama, I just glowed with the never ending praise of her and never had any reason to have to defend her or protect her feelings because nothing negative had EVER happened. Until Sunday.

I have been teaching children for about 20 years. I have been their coach, their cheer leader, their champion, their devil’s advocate, and their other mom. I have loved them and respected them, and with some, got close enough to have fantastic relationships with them throughout their childhood and into adulthood. I have cried with them, cried over them, and cried because of them.

But NOTHING prepares you for the strength of the love you have for your very own child that bears your entire heart in her tiny little body. When she cries, you want to cry. When she hurts, your heart breaks. When they are first learning about this world they live in you rejoice in their discoveries and watch with wonder as their world expands around them. They have such joy with all things that you are completely unprepared for their first taste of disappointment. Getting peed on by a frog is not the same thing, y’all.

As a horse trainer and riding instructor mom, it was my dream for my little girl to ride horses herself. I could not wait for the moment she would get to wear braids and jodphurs and sit on that pony at her first horseshow. I bought the pink and blue bows with the “S” monogram on them about 6 months ago. I searched eBay for the littlest boots I could find. A friend gave her the cutest little black show gloves. Baby Girl and her Sissy practiced walking, practiced jump position and were totally pumped for her first lead line class. Sissy would take Baby Girl in the arena while Mama and Dada cheered from the sidelines. All Baby Girl’s friends (my students and their parents) would be watching. They were all just as excited as she was. The parents volunteered to take pictures and video, the girls did Apolo’s (the pony) hooves and were on standby for however they might be needed. We showed up at the arena at about 8:45 am ready for the class to start around 9:00. There were four other little girls in her class so it was going to be a competition! (Where they all win blue ribbons and stuffed ponies of course).

And we waited. Now, I KNOW all about the “hurry up and wait” issue at shows. Lord knows I’ve been to about a billion shows. But as we waited for the conflict in the other ring to end so Baby Girl’s class could go, she soon got tired of being on the pony. OK let’s get down and play with the doggie for a little while. Thirty minutes later the doggie was done playing and Baby Girl was ready to do something else. She’s pretty good at entertaining herself so she played with rocks, ate candy, and messed with her sister. After TWO HOURS the class still had not gone. At this point it’s going on 11 am and it’s time for Baby Girl’s nap. Sissy puts Baby Girl back on the pony and takes her over to the little field to walk around, where inevitably, disaster strikes. A horse spooked and Apolo jumped sideways slightly and Baby Girl falls off. On the opposite side of where Sissy was so she couldn’t even catch her. Baby Girl is now in tears and no longer wants to ride. She wants her paccy and her snuggie and she wants to go home.

Finally I ask if I could take her in the arena to walk around once because it was obvious we were not going to make it until whenever the class would eventually be held. Baby Girl cried all the way around the arena. Not because she was scared to ride but because she was just pooped. She had actually been at the show all day Friday, all day Saturday, and then this whole morning. She had been so good the entire time and she was just DONE. Dada then took her home where she finally fell asleep for the afternoon.

I was disappointed for her, because she did not get to do what she had practiced so hard for, and I was disappointed for myself because the moment I had been dreaming of had gone up in smoke. I thought I would complain to the President of the organization about making the little girls wait for almost three hours for their class. (I was told the class finally went about 45 minutes after Baby Girl left). Y’all – these girls are all 2 1/2 to 4 or 5 years old. They are doing Lead Line for pete’s sake. They should not have to wait three hours. Concessions should be made. Figure It The F**K Out is what I wanted to say. I managed not to say exactly that, but as I made my complaint I was astounded by the response I received. Zero compassion for the little girls. Zero tolerance for my disappointment and anger. And yes, I yelled. I didn’t start out yelling, but when your complaint and your concerns are not heard and not acted on and you are standing there trying to advocate for your child’s feelings and you are not winning, a Mama Bear suddenly and ferociously consumes you. I walked out of that office stunned and heartbroken. Then I saw those other little girls who had managed to wait it out and were able to participate in their class. I saw them on their ponies with their blue ribbons and I lost it. Thankfully a good friend of mine was there on her massive horse to shield my tears from the general public.

Later that day the Show Manager did try to make things right for which I am extremely grateful. She was kind, and compassionate and even offered to re-do the class. She reacted to my disappointment in a way that dispelled my anger and made me feel heard. Such an important thing to do for someone who had looked forward to this moment for such a long time.

Baby Girl will get to show again, I know. There will be more shows, more ribbons, and plenty of good times. But the very first show will never happen again. That moment can never be replaced, and it was tainted with tears and disappointment. However, I have a ton of photos of her smiling in her bows with her pony, her Sissy, her Dada and me. And that’ll have to be what we remember. Smiles and Good Friends.

 

Baby Girl was practically born in a barn. Nine months pregnant I was still driving a tractor and going to horseshows. I was, in fact, at a show the Sunday before she was born. My Dad had purchased the “ATV of strollers” so that we would be ready after she was born because there wasn’t a chance I wasn’t going to continue where I left off. She has been to countless horseshows since, and only for a little while when she was about 1 and a half to 2 years old was it very difficult. Now that she can walk and play and ride (some) she is pretty easy at horseshows. She collects rocks and plays with her toys and loves all the attention she gets.

Baby Girl loves all animals. She will say pretty much anything other than a dead cricket on the floor in our house is cute. Frogs, cats, puppies, any and all dogs, horses, goats, pigs, she loves them all. Her very first word was “meow” because she was copying the cat in our house. Now she tells him to Hush! and Get Down! and constantly asks for treats to feed him. (We’ve progressed from her eating the treats to actually giving them to the cat!). She is super sweet with other animals, too. Except occasionally when she tortures the cat on purpose because he lets her. She will pat the horse as she is riding it, she will be so soft and sweet with anything new she finds. You can tell she just adores them all. I even got her to kiss a frog once and it was surprisingly easy. She wants to pet the chickens and birds and is totally devastated when they fly away before she can reach them.

She has been, literally, raised in a barn. The work didn’t stop because the baby was born. It was achingly hard for awhile, for me, to watch as my husband and my employee Hannah did everything I wanted to do while I stayed inside with the baby, or walked around the property with her but couldn’t take my eyes or hands off her even for a second. As she has gotten bigger, however, she can run around and play while I do things in the barn. I can’t ride yet while she’s with me, but we clean stalls and feed the horses and get the hay and fill grain buckets and sweep and a million other little things that make me happy. She tries so hard to help. Being outside makes her happy too. She can find a stick or a flower or a mushroom or a pile of gravel Dada would rather she not spread out, and be completely absorbed for at least ten minutes at a time. (Ten minutes is a looonnngg time to a toddler). The pile of gravel is the BEST fun. When it was a huge pile she would climb and slide and climb and slide and got fantastically dirty. Later that day when I went to change her diaper, I pulled her pants off and gravel flew everywhere. Mind you, she had already taken her nap in her bed with this gravel in her pockets!

I used to have to have someone stay right on top of her at all times while I was teaching lessons. Now she will play inside or outside the arena while I teach. I would prefer outside of course, but sometimes she sneaks in to collect all the flowers from the flower boxes. She likes to get one of each color and then proceeds to tell me which is pink, which is blue, which is yewwow. She’s learned to get out of the way of the horses. She knows what it means when they jump. She will watch videos of the girls riding with me, when we’re in the house. But most important of all, she wants to WIDE herself. If she gets in the mood she will cry and beg and stomp and tell me 18 times that she wants to WIDE. Honestly it’s music to my ears. I love that she wants to ride so badly. She is certainly not afraid. She only walks, of course, but that is good enough for her and good enough for Mama right now too!

I decided a couple of months ago she was going to do lead line in our Year End Show coming up this weekend. She is now the proud owner of jodphur pants, paddock boots, black teeny tiny gloves she probably won’t wear, a belt that Dada made out of an old rein, a pink polo shirt and a white turtleneck. You never can tell with the weather in Texas. Of course she has a helmet, and a black cover for it. She’s totally ready for Sunday’s lead line class that Mama is highly anticipating. She will probably refuse to WIDE that day. It wouldn’t surprise me. You never can tell with bees.

When we are outside you usually have to bribe her to get her back inside. It may be wet, cold, windy but that little barn rat wants to be out in it! She wants to run up and down the paddock aisle while I feed the horses, she wants to help feed the horses grain and hay. She wants to climb on the gates. She now knows which bucket is “Sugar’s” and she can say the names of some of the horses (Sugar, for example. And Gracie.) She loves to splash in water, muddy or not. She does not care how dirty she gets.

As the era of the official “barn rat” seems to be coming to a close, it brightens my day and my heart to see her so happy outside and in the barn. Out of all the thousands of pictures I have of her outside, in the barn, and riding, it will be difficult to choose one for this story. I hope this story doesn’t have an ending. I pray that Baby Girl continues throughout her life to be a Barn Rat. Like her Mama.

A lot of people really enjoy Halloween. The fall weather, the spooky decorations, the dressing up, the candy. In my immediate family only one of us really enjoys it. And it’s not the toddler. It’s the teenager of course. What’s not to love about dressing up and going around the neighborhood with your friends, freaking each other out and getting a sugar high?

The toddler, on the other hand, has not quite figured this whole “Halloween = candy” stuff yet. By the morning after the trick or treating she had completely forgotten about the bag full of sweets she collected the night before. This was a lucky break for Mama and Sissy – eating the candy is the only part of Halloween that I enjoy. We were more than happy to step in on the candy-eating responsibility of the after trick-or-treating.

Back back to the beginning of October. When tacky costumes, orange and black crap and Halloween candy is the first thing you are assaulted with when you enter any retail store. And you’d better be pretty quick to decide and select because by a week before Halloween all this stuff is gone. Cleared. Final sales mixed with a small selection of Thanksgiving items. Then BAM, the day after Halloween you get the final sales on the Thanksgiving stuff and Christmas is in full swing. I made the mistake of waiting til a couple days before Baby Girl’s school Halloween party to go looking for something yummy to make for her 2 year old classmates. I found a bag of candy corn and some orange jello. I ended up with banana nut muffins with chopped up candy corn in them and the jello is still in the cupboard. Only a few were eaten.

Oh and I also had to have a costume for Baby Girl by the time of that party. There was to be a “costume parade” through all the classrooms. Now normally I throw a pretty cool Barn Halloween Fest where the kids all dress up their ponies and themselves and play games on horseback which in years past has been hugely popular. This year I was so stressed out about Baby Girl’s Halloween fun that I totally let that go. Did not even get the decorations out of the attic. Not a single pumpkin on my doorstep. My step daughter asked me two days before Halloween if I was going to have the Barn party. Are you out of your mind kid?! Honestly, none of the barn kids sans one even asked if I was going to do it so I guess it was no big loss after all. Although I did want to do a circus theme and have Baby Girl and Corkie (pony) dress up as baby elephants. Maybe next year.

Back to the costume problem. Grandma suggested something easy like a Minnie Mouse dress and ears. MOOOOMMMM that’s way too generic! In retrospect, why do I feel like Baby Girl would have happily put that costume on? Anyway, I searched. And I searched. Looked in stores. Looked online. Could not decide on anything. If I’d had more energy I’m sure I could have created something she would have loved. But creating something this year did not even enter into the stratosphere of possibilities. I was going to buy something cute! Finally I settled on an adorable Lion costume I found at Target. Took it home thinking Baby Girl would love it. She loves to roar at us with her little plastic Fisher Price lion so this was a sure thing right? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. No.

Here is a picture of Dada wearing the lion costume on his head trying to convince Baby Girl it’s cute and a good idea. You can tell by the look on her face that this is not working. She really enjoyed roaring with Dada. But only while HE was wearing the costume.

Not to be discouraged I thought, “Alright. She’ll get used to it. I’ll leave it in her playroom and she can mess around with it and maybe she’ll want to put it on at some point.”

Yeah. No. She simply moved it out of her way in order to do other things. Never even looked at it. So on the morning of the party I packed it up with her and the candy corn banana nut muffins and headed off to school. Huge diarrhea blow out on the way there. Have to pull over and get her all cleaned up. Have to take her pants off. So I get to the school and of course even with the pit stop I’m still the first one there (I am always the first one there) and I’m standing outside holding a cranky toddler with a diaper and a tee shirt on with her lion costume still in the truck while all these other adorable cuties are walking up in princess dresses and bumblebee costumes and PJ Masks Cat Boy outfits. I don’t even bother to say anything.

Finally inside the classroom I explain that I need to borrow the pants that are in her “extra clothes” cubby and that I can’t get her to wear her costume. The teacher (a saint) says go get the costume, maybe I can get it on her. Sure lady, we can try. Sure enough, she bribes my kid with M&M’s and the costume goes on long enough for me to get this picture:

You can tell she loves it. I have no idea how long the costume stayed on. I hightailed it out of there and left the teacher to it.

So on Halloween night I was sure I could bribe her again to get it on so we could go trick or treating. We pull over in the neighborhood we visited for this purpose and I get her out of the car seat and tell her it’s time to put her costume on. OH HELL NO. The fight is on. She screams and cries and I beg and plead and offer candy. Dada sits in the truck with an “I told you so” look. Finally I decide that once she sees other kids with their costumes on she will agree. How am I so dead wrong all the time? I swear I used to know things.

Sooooo we ended up trick or treating in a onesie and tennis shoes. To their credit everybody remarked how adorable she is and did not ask where her costume was. It’s a good thing because I probably would’ve gone for their necks. Or broke down crying. Baby Girl quickly learned two new words – house and lights. Because I told her we could only go ask for candy at the houses with lights on. Predictably when it came time to go home she threw a major fit and screamed HOUSE HOUSE HOUSE until I physically picked her up and chunked her none too softly into her car seat. The kid is brave though. She walked up to all sorts of scary things and grabbed her candy. She wasn’t going to miss out just ‘cuz something was a little creepy. AND she even leaned down and kissed a little pumpkin light thing on someone’s walk way and said it was cute. Awwww.

Baby Girl is adorable. And she totally knows it. She can absolutely kill me with hilariousness when I’m supposed to be mad at her. She can make Dada, Sissy, Grandma, Grandpa just keel over with laughter. Her latest thing is saying “no no no no!” in a sing-song voice while shaking her finger at one of us, or else it’s a “uh uhhhh!” in the same sing-song. I can guess that she learned this fun little thing at school. The teachers must do that when one of the kids is doing something not so acceptable.

So of course when I try to reprimand her and she does this, I can’t help but laugh because it is just too funny. My brother and I grew up laughing and having a great time with my parents. We were an Army family so we moved around a lot and spent a lot of time together. Once my brother was in college and my Dad was in some country or another being a Commander of Troops or whatever, my Mom and I hung out together all the time. We spent a lot of time laughing. It was a great way to grow up. Even at family dinners when we were grown, but not yet married, we could rarely get through a dinner without someone in tears from laughing or snorting tea out their nose. Unlike a lot of teenage girls, my mom and I got along great. I did not do all the rebellious things a lot of girls do. Moms of girls who ride horses listen up! I was WAY TOO BUSY riding horses to do any of that adolescent crap. I considered it way beneath me even then. I pretty much thought most of my peers were seriously immature and dumb. I’m sure most of that came from all my time spent at the barn, learning how to be a responsible person.

Because I am an older first time mom, my own mom doesn’t remember much from when I was really small. This has its advantages because I just tell everyone I was a perfect angel child and my mom agrees. I’ll ask her if I was as difficult as Baby Girl is now and she’ll say NO! We all know that Baby Girl is a difficult kid. She’s independent, stubborn and persistent. On the other hand, all these things also describe myself so I think my mom A) either doesn’t remember or has blocked it out or B) was a lot more strict with me than I am with Baby Girl. I have such a hard time being strict! I want to give in and give her everything she wants. I don’t want to do this because it’s easier – I want to do this because she has my heart wrapped around her little finger and I can’t stand to see her upset. It’s a problem. The main problem is that by giving in I perpetuate an even bigger problem of the “I want it-itis” and the “Cry til I get it” tantrum.

Surely some of you other moms out there have this gooey mushy heart that melts problem? I actually thought I’d be a VERY strict mom. I thought I’d be a “you walk the line or else” type of mom. I’ll bet most of my friends and family would agree that this is what they expected. But when you’ve been through a miscarriage and infertility issues, it’s like you just can’t not give her what she wants. Because she gave you the thing you wanted most. So you owe her. Which I know is not true – she has no idea that she was a miracle baby. But I know it.

So learning to say No to her is a process. One I haven’t perfected yet. It’s slightly easier when she’s having a huge tantrum in the kitchen over wanting yet another bag of fruit chews. I should have made her a fruit chew costume for Halloween. I’ll bet she would have happily worn it. As it is, I have yet to get her in the Lion costume I bought her.

And the thing is, she makes me laugh most of the time. And I want to laugh! I want her to laugh! Just like my family did. I need to hypnotize my mom to get her to remember some specific details because she was (and is) an excellent mom. She had lines and you better not cross it. Yet we laughed. How did she do it? My brother and I were respectful and kind and mostly non-rebellious children and teenagers (me more than my Bro of course – I was the perfect one). She drew the line and we toed it. I can only remember a handful of times when I crossed that line and you better believe the repercussions made an impression. But the laughter was constant as well. Even when things went south, a lot of the time laughter fixed them.

I’ve got to figure out this mystery. How to be strict enough that she turns out respectful and kind, yet let the laughter be the thing she remembers most. I cherish my childhood. I cherish the time with my parents and my brother. Even as I now have a husband and two girls, I miss those days back when. My greatest wish for Baby Girl is that her childhood inspires her enough that she wishes to pass along the laughter to her children too.

I was a terrible mother today. It is never a good thing when you start your day with a tantrum at 5:30 a.m. Baby Girl does not have a consistent wake up time each morning. Sometimes it is 5:30, sometimes 6 or 6:30. If she wakes up at 4 something (which happens quite often) I can convince her it’s still sleepy time and get her back to bed. 5:30 am, though, is NOT still sleepy time in her opinion. It is Mouse Time. Meaning we will go watch Mouse on the EE (TV as I explained once before) or ELSE. The ELSE meaning “throw myself on the floor and scream and cry until you give in” because for God’s sake it’s 5:30 am and I don’t have the strength to fight it. Usually I am still dead asleep at 5:30 am. Her crying Mama into the blackness that is 5:30 am is like a sledgehammer to my head.

This morning, at 5:30, I invited her into my own bed thinking that maybe she would snuggle in under my covers and we could all go back to sleep. She would not even consider the suggestion. The tantrum started before I could even get the words all the way out. NO! NO! Nooooooooo!!!!!! Mouse!! MOUSE!!! Somehow she manages to whine and cry and roll on the floor and say these things with the paccy still in her mouth. It’s actually fairly impressive. So I thought, ok, I’ll just ignore her and get in my bed. Maybe she’ll join me. Ha. No luck. Still whining, screaming, crying and writhing on the floor 15 mins later. If there were an Olympic sport in temper tantrumming Baby Girl would surely be in the medals.

I give in. Of course I do. The only other option would be to shut her door and wait it out, but honestly nobody is going back to sleep anyway so why bother? So I pick her up. Carry her down the hall. Set her sweetly in “her” chair where she promptly demands her Milk. I turn on the EE, get the milk and lay comatose on the couch for an hour. Of course actual sleeping on the couch is not going to happen. Once Baby Girl is awake, there is no way Mama is going to sleep. If I did I would awake to a mess in my house that would rival Hurricane whatever down in Haiti. Any time Dada is in charge somehow the Hurricane always starts before he realizes what is happening …. because he isn’t paying attention 100% at all times with his whole head, ears, nose and eyes like I tell him to! Her favorite thing is to turn every surface into a coloring book.

Anyways… so this entire day I have been a cranky, grumpy, yes, alright – bitchy, Mama. And to make it even better Baby Girl has also been cranky, whiny and helpless. She will literally lay on the floor and whine that she can’t “weach” something that is not one foot away. If she would just GET UP OFF THE FLOOR she could Weach it all day long. What is that about? If I walk away she just yells louder. And then there’s the clinginess. Mama mama mama mama OH MY GOD mama mama mama mama!!!!! Pick me up! Let me climb all over you and pull on your shirt! I wanna crawl into your lap and whine while you work! I can’t be away from you for one single second! Mama mama mama mama!!! I eat!! I hungry!! Sit! Sit! Sit! Outside! Inside! Mama mama mama!

So I escaped. As soon as hubby woke up I retreated into my bedroom and went back to bed. She cried of course. She wanted to be in the bed with me (because it wasn’t 5:30 am) and Dada had to remove her and shut the door while she screamed. Y’all it is really hard to take that guilt trip. But I was at the end of my short rope today so I did it. And as payback of course I had terrible dreams while I napped. Waking up left me even more annoyed with myself and the world in general, so I decided that I should go do some work outside. Maybe it would improve my mood. So once again Dada had to pick her off of my leg and hold her while she screamed so I could leave the house. Months ago (maybe even a year ago?) Hubby had to tell me that she only screams for about 30 seconds after I actually leave and then she’s perfectly fine. I did not believe him at first but eventually realized that what he said was true. It lessens the guilt trip slightly.

All day long today I have been evading that Baby Girl. Went to pick Sissy up at school and told her that I had to teach lessons that afternoon so Baby Girl was all hers. This never works as I want it to, however, as Baby Girl loves being with her Sissy for about ten minutes and then reverts back to mama mama mama mama! Came in after lessons and got Baby Girl happily eating some dinner and snuck off to take a solitary bath since Sissy was there to watch her. Less than five minutes later there is Baby Girl screaming at the door, and then in the bathroom with me, since she can now manage the door handle. And then in the bathtub with me. Seriously.

Then trying to get her PJ’s on and in the bed. To hell with our bedtime ritual tonight. After only five minutes of whining and crying she is asleep. Baby Girl is tired, too, and now I feel guilty for being such a terrible mama today.

And I’m all out of wine.

We are a family of achievers. My immediate core family growing up – Mom, Dad, Brother, Me – we like to get shit done. We feel like the day is wasted if shit doesn’t get done. We are list-makers. I personally have a weekly list that I like to stare at every day. It’s a challenge – can you get all this shit done before Sunday?! Me to self – if you work super hard at the beginning of the week you could relax at the end of the week! You know why this doesn’t actually work? Because I add shit to the list. If I think of it, it must go on the list. There is no “waiting til next week” or just ignoring the thought. If it entered my head, IT MUST GO ON THE LIST. If it goes on the list, IT MUST GET DONE. Needless to say this concept usually ends up causing more stress than easing it. But I can’t stop. I would feel completely overwhelmed and panicky if I didn’t have my list. It’s a security blanket. Your day matters because you have this shit you have to get done. Your husband, child, and step-daughter cannot function without you because they don’t understand the importance of the list. I like to think they are in awe of my super-list, but they really probably just indulge my eccentricities.

This brings me next to the concept of THE NOTHING BOX. I have trouble sleeping at night. I am sure this surprises none of you. I can’t stop thinking – I can’t turn off my brain. It can take hours for me to go to sleep. And if I get woken up in the middle of the night (which happens every night) it more often than not means another sleepless hour or two in which to think of new things that need to be added to my list. My husband of course says “I’m going to sleep now” and less than five minutes later he’s totally out. HOW THE HELL?!?! Well, he says, he doesn’t think about anything. He just goes straight to sleep. What do you mean you don’t think about anything? That is not even possible. Well, it is, actually, he says. Look man, don’t piss me off. I’m telling you it’s not possible! He says – no really, I just go into my Nothing Box (a concept he got off some comedian somewhere I have to admit) and I go straight to sleep. He can even do this during the day! OK, I’ll bite. I’m gonna try going into this Nothing Box and see if it works. Here I go…

Here I am. Middle of my Nothing Box with my sleepy blanket and my pillow. Ready to chill-ax. Aaahhh. Hey this is cool. There’s nothing in here. I don’t have to think at all! 1… 2… 3… 4… Hmm I wonder if Baby Girl will sleep all night tonight. If I fall asleep NOW and she sleeps all night I’ll get to sleep for 7 hours, 34 minutes and um, 16 seconds. 15. 14. I wonder if it will be cooler tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t rain. We have a horseshow on Sunday. Crap, if it rains that means no $$ this weekend. Damn. Please don’t rain, please don’t rain, please don’t rain. And if it rains we have to wait AGAIN for it to dry out before the gravel can be delivered to fix the road. Sigh. Is that Baby Girl crying out? Please please please just go back to sleep!! Phew, yay. I really need to go get some melatonin for her tomorrow. And I need to find a ENT for her, I really need to get that done. OK I will do that. Tomorrow. Time to sleep now. HEY! WTF? How the heck did all this stuff get in this damn box?! Sigh. I knew there was no such thing as a Nothing Box.

Owning a business, keeping a house, keeping up with 9 acres, a barn, and an arena, keeping 9-12 horses fed, clean and happy, acknowledging my husband, keeping my step-daughter on her toes, and loving on my Baby Girl all take a shit-ton of time and energy. Some days I have to force myself to take a step back and remember that this Baby Girl will only be tiny for a short period of time. She will only want these paccy-kisses (kisses while still keeping the paccy in her mouth) and sticky, snuggly baby hugs for awhile before she’s Big. She’ll only find joy in sitting in my lap opening a random piece of mail because she can tear the envelope to pieces for a couple more years at best. So yesterday I took a time out for myself and for her and we finger painted. We actually put paint all over our hands and her feet and painted on paper. She thought I was the coolest mama ever, for a little while.

For those of you who, like me, find it difficult to sit down and relax I know you will understand how almost painful it is to stop and play with your kid. It was a skill I had to actually learn. After 38 years of doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and spending every day trying to get shit done, I had to actually learn how to stop. How to just chill. How to ignore my list. At least for an hour or so.

Who is this little girl who has replaced my baby? All of a sudden, my Baby Girl is talking in sentences, running around the house entertaining herself (mostly), answering questions (not just saying NO), refusing to put on clothes, changing her mind 14 times over one article of clothing, and all together acting like a little girl instead of a toddler. Potty training is imminent. I am dreading it.

I love diapers. I know I’m in the minority, but it’s just so EASY. You put a diaper on and you go about your day and you don’t have to find the nearest bathroom or patiently wait for someone to go poo whenever they manage it. Especially with my daughter. She doesn’t care when her diaper is wet. She’d go all day with it wet if I didn’t force the issue. She tells me anytime she’s “stinky.” We take care of the “stinky” and life goes on.

And the real issue is this… I have NO IDEA how to potty train something. Cats are easy. You stick the paws in the litter and scrape a few times and they’ve got that shit figured out. Literally. Horses don’t get potty trained. They go whenever, wherever. Their biggest problem is making them keep going forward if they poo in the middle of the flat class. And I don’t remember my own potty training – I bet I was born just using a toilet – so there you go. What on earth do you do?!

I have been avidly avoiding the issue for some time now. Grandpa sent money for a potty for his “fu fu.” There’s a Minnie Mouse one at Walmart that looks promising. I actually bought a book or two for Baby Girl on the subject. We read the “I wear panties” book every day. I point out that Mommy wears panties when she watches me go to the bathroom (I’ve already told everyone that I just leave the door open so we might as well move on to the fact that yes, she does indeed, watch me.) We discuss what toilet paper is for, we say “bye bye” to the toilet paper as it gets flushed. I keep the toilet lid down at all other times to make sure that other things don’t go “bye bye” too, like my phone that she’s fascinated with.

I have not read the toilet training section in the “Everything the Toddler Years” book. I know I need to. I did read an article somewhere that said back in the 50’s babies were generally potty trained by 18 months old because they didn’t have disposable diapers and the babies got annoyed enough with wet, dirty diapers that they eagerly embraced potty training. Well maybe not eagerly, but that’s the image I got in my head. Like they were also already talking in complete sentences and able to tell their parents exactly how they felt about the whole thing.

I have not bought tiny little panties for her yet. I am unsure what Pull-Ups are really for. My Baby Girl might be acting like a Big Girl in most ways but she can’t pull her own pants up over her diaper. So do you just go straight from diapers to panties and say good luck to ya Kid? I mean, does she even know when she has to pee? Do kids really figure out that if they have to pee they should pull down the Pull-Up (which is for all intents and purposes, really just a glorified diaper) and sit on the potty? She can take off her own diaper if she’s so inclined so what’s the point of Pull-Ups? I imagine that if she took off her own diaper to go pee in the potty that she would then just strut around naked until I did something about it.  And if she has a diaper on, why would she take it off to go pee in the potty? She’s a smart kid – I think she would realize that peeing in the diaper is a whole lot easier. And what about at night?! I do not fancy waking up and having to change the sheets because of not getting to the potty fast enough. I don’t even have another set of Peppa Pig sheets for her bed. The more I think about it, the more I realize that this enterprise is getting even more daunting. And expensive.

I’m just so glad she’s a girl. I think teaching a boy would be a nightmare. On the other hand, if she was a boy I could just claim ignorance and pass the whole thing off to Daddy. But since that is clearly not an option I guess I should take the plunge (get it? Ha Ha) and dive right in…

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Raise your hand if you have ever wanted to have temper tantrum like a toddler. Oohhh Oohh Me! Me! Can I please just throw myself on the floor and scream at the top of my lungs and bang my fists and howl, just because I have to actually get dressed and not wear pajamas all day? To be specific, the Peppa Pig pajamas. Day in… day out.

I have recently discovered that a toddler can have a monumental tantrum at any time of the day for any reason. I did not truly understand or appreciate this until the past few months. I thought Baby Girl had entered the terrible two stage way before her second birthday. Let me tell you… I WAS SO WRONG. One year old tantrums are nothing like two year old tantrums. At one, you can still typically pacify with some other idea – like hey! How about we wear the mickey mouse shirt today? Or you can just pick them up and move them as they cry, and they will snuffle and be sad but then get distracted and be totally over it. At two, there is no such thing as a short display of dissatisfaction. There is no bargaining, there is no cajoling, there is nothing to do but stand and watch in admiration as this tiny sweet child of yours turns into a wretched, writhing, howling monster.

At first it really bothered me, and I would watch her scream and wonder “what can I do to fix this?” The answer is NOTHING. Walk away Dearie, just walk away. Because that tantrum is going to last as long as the child wants it to and not a second less. I have watched her scream and roll on the floor in the Old Navy bathroom for about ten minutes while I contemplated exactly what kind of germs she was picking up by doing so. The poor lady in a stall when we came in had to gingerly step over the howling mess that was my child so she could wash her hands. She kindly did not say a word as she left the bathroom. Baby Girl finally stopped and I said ok let’s go and she calmly took my hand and was perfectly fine for the rest of the shopping excursion. I wasn’t fine though. That was the last time I have taken Baby Girl on a clothes shopping excursion. Maybe I’ll try it again when she’s 10. Or 20.

Of course the best tantrum of all is in the middle of the night (or at 5:30 am) when you both are supposed to be sleeping. Holy Mother of God, WHY won’t the child just snuggle in and go back to sleep when she wakes up instead of throwing a massive fit and demanding to watch EE? (T.V. for those of you not versed in toddler language). And WHY do I have to sit in the chair in her room while she demands me to “Wock, mama, WOCK!” until she falls back asleep? Why do I have to rock the damn chair when she’s not even in it with me?! And then sneaking out only to have my knees crack and her stick her arm out and say “noooooo!” so I have to sit back down and WOCK until she is snoring. So. Much. Fun.

Anyways, fellow mamas, don’t despair. Watch in admiration and amusement instead of distress when your two year old throws a tantrum over wanting gummy bears instead of toast (or whatever you are serving) for breakfast. The other evening Baby Girl refused to come sit and eat dinner with me. So I sat down and started eating while she screamed in the other room. She eventually decided she was rather hungry after all and came in the kitchen and calmly sat in her chair and started to eat. I didn’t say a word. We ended up both eating peacefully and happily while watching House Hunters on EE. Totally worth the 10 minute screaming fit, over the 30-60 minute battle it would have been if I had decided to engage. I have learned a lot these past few months, my friends. Some good, some bad, it’s all about that toddler and winning the war of motherhood.

But. Holy Jesus, please don’t tell me Three is even worse.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all lost a friend or two along the way of our lives. As a Riding Instructor, I’ve lost clients over the years of course, and some of those have broken my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, it’s said, and sometimes it’s just for a short period of time. But each and every one of them leave some footprint – something that will make us think of them from time to time. It’s especially difficult when that line between client and friend merges. When it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. You tell yourself that you are not going to be friends with your clients – it’s just business. But that never works, does it? Some people are just meant to be your friends, and that’s probably why they became your clients in the first place. Same way of thinking, a lot in common, sense of humor and so on.

I look at my Baby Girl sometimes and wonder if she realizes when someone just disappears, if at two years old, she can conceptualize the difference in the people around her. Sometimes I think being two would be really nice. It seems like she just enjoys her life, doesn’t get overly concerned with who is there and who isn’t (except for me, her mama, of course). Sissy comes and goes, in and out, of Baby Girl’s daily life and she doesn’t seem to be too upset when she’s not there, but is truly happy to see her when she is. Same with Grandma and Grandpa and all the other people close to her.

I know someday she will get her heart broken and she will be truly devastated when someone disappears out of her life. But for now she’s happy with the people around her, whenever they are there. I am amazed by that. I wish I could be so content with the way things are. But memories and words get in the way. Somebody once said that you will forget what people say and you will forget what people do, but you will never forget the way they made you FEEL. And that is so true. That is what you hang onto, that is what causes the pain and makes you sad and angry. Don’t hold onto that they say, you must learn to forgive they say. Forgive yourself and don’t worry about that other person because they most assuredly aren’t worrying about you. I’m not sure that’s true though. I think only very self absorbed people simply move on and never think about what happened between the two of you.

Moving on is sometimes easy, and sometimes very difficult. If you are a strong person you close your eyes for a little bit and take a deep breath and find a new way. You hold yourself together and you tell yourself you don’t care. You let other people think you don’t care. Only the people closest to you will know how very much you do care. You cry a little and let your Baby Girl crawl up in your lap and wipe your tears away and you tell her you are sad right now but you’ll be ok soon. And then you are. You have to be – for her. She needs a strong mama, a mama that cries but then moves on. A mama that isn’t afraid to let people go when they’ve hurt her. A mama who can tell that Baby Girl that sometimes life is hard, but it’s never too hard. That she can handle anything that comes, that she will always be ok. And that her mama will always be there for her, no matter what. Just like my mom taught me.

The hardest apology you have to accept is the one you never got. And the hardest thing you’ll ever do is apologize for the way you made someone feel.