Baby Girl please put your shoes on. “I AM, MOM.” When the hell did my three year old turn into a teenager?! She calls me Mom more often than Mommy. She basically rolls her eyes when I tell her to do something – just hasn’t quite mastered the technique yet. “I AM” is one of her favorite new phrases. Baby Girl eat your dinner – I AMMMMMM. Baby Girl get in the car seat please – “I AMMMM!” Baby Girl please come on – it’s time to …. (any number of things) – her response is either “I AMM! or “I can’t. I’m busy.” In other words, leave me the hell alone. (She honestly probably picked that one up from me. Oops).
Now let’s add in some three year old tantrums to the teenage attitude. Also, absolute refusal to stop screaming and listen to Mommy (Mom). Finally, let’s continue whining and carrying on and repeating what you want 5000 times even though Mommy (Mom) is actually getting whatever it is that you are asking for. Example:
“I want water! I want WATER! I want WAAAATTTEEERRRR!” Baby Girl calm down I am getting you some water. See? Here I am with the cup heading to the fridge…. “WAAAAA I want WATER! WAAAAA WATER! I want water!” Look, Lovie – water is actually coming out of the fridge and into your cup. Pretty soon you will have some water. “WAAAA I WANT WATER!! I WANT WATER! I WANT WATER!” Look Kid I’m about to pour this water over your precious little head if you don’t shut it. “I want WAAAA…. sniff sniff… ” takes the cup from my hand and drinks as if she’s been deprived of water for three days.
The repeating thing drives me bat shit crazy. “What are doing Mommy?” I’m working baby. “Oh. What you doing Mom?” Um. Working. “Mommy what are you doing?” I’M WORKING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
“Where’s Daddy?” He’s at work Lovie (or he’s asleep, or he’s in the barn, or outside….). “Oh. What’s Daddy doing?” Baby I just told you. “Oh.” Five minutes later… “where’s daddy?” He’s still working (or sleeping or ….). “OK. What’s Sissy doing?” And on and on it goes. All day long. Until I want to stick a pitchfork through my ears.
Here’s another favorite: “Mom I want to watch Mouse.” OK Lovie let me put it in for you. “No not THAT one!” OK which one? “Um that one.” This one? “Yes.” I start to put it in the DVD player, get it all set up and push play. “NOT THAT ONE MOMMY!” Baby I just asked you which one! “No THIS one!” Fuming, I take out one DVD and put THIS one in. And she’s happy. For about 10 minutes. Then more often than not she’ll come bring me yet a different DVD and say “I want to watch this one.” And I roll my eyes (she’ll figure it out soon) and say too bad – watch the one that’s in there. Then I brace for the screaming, shrieking fit that is sure to follow. Because she can’t just meekly say “Ok Mommy.” She has NEVER just meekly agreed to my instructions or suggestions. That is so not her style. Even if I’m right. (Remind you of your teenager? I thought so.)
So here I am enjoying life with an actual teenager and a threenager. Yesterday I literally sat on the floor of Barnes and Noble while Baby Girl was blessedly with Ms. Troy and Mati, and I perused the parenting section. Alas, no books on the threenager. But plenty of books on how to parent boys (are they harder?!), books on raising a self confident kid (not a problem) , how to become tantrum free in three easy steps – yeah right – 800 potty training books – and finally…. “The SH!T NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT TODDLERS.” Ding ding ding!!! A book full of other moms telling you their horror stories, how bad they suck at parenting, how they figured shit out, and how they cope. No holds barred on explaining how toddlers are like well educated pomeranians, or angry monkeys. Moms admitting how they want to leave their kids in the produce aisle and just walk away. Moms that understand that wine is an adult food group. I am loving this book. Can I just crawl under the covers today in a dark room with a flashlight and just read? Please?
Some people dream of beach vacations or hiking through the jungles of Costa Rica – I dream of sleeping in a dark room all alone with the door locked and someone else listening for the strains of “MOM! I can’t find my paccy! MOM! where is my snuggie? MOM! Cover me! MOM! I need water!! MOM I want to watch Mouse!” I just want to hide and whimper “I’m not your Mom.” But no one else will come out and say that the ARE her mom, so I guess it really is me.
When they are born they should hand you an extra large bottle of vodka and say “you’ll know when you need this.”
