If it were possible to meet my 23 year-old, single self in the aisles of that supermarket, I would have punched her in the nose. Not just for being about thirty pounds lighter, but also for ever thinking, "Pshhh, my kids will never act that way." Cause there I was, carrying Madeline through the store under one arm like a sack of screaming, red-headed potatoes. (That sounds like a good name for a rock band, yes?)
A kind-faced woman behind me giggled and said, "I remember when my kids used to do that." I noted that she had come shopping without her children. Ah, the wisdom of veteran mothers.
The single-looking man in front of me turned around and shrugged, "Well...I guess that's what they make hand sanitizer for..." But I'm judging from his smug expression that he was really thinking, "Well...I guess that's what they make condoms for..."
I'd like to report that this was a one-time aberration, and that my sweet, well-behaved daughter was just having an off day. But I've lied to myself enough already. From what I've been told, this is what my life will look like for the next three years. After that, I'll get a brief reprieve until puberty hits.
The problem is that toddlers are the most irrational and selfish human beings on the planet. More irrational than the teenagers I work with. More irrational than a certain fat pregnant lady on a hot summer day...ahem.
Therefore, as hard as I try to explain to her that she can't wear her sparkly shoes to school because they no longer physically fit on her feet, she just. does. not. get. it. Insert epic toddler tantrum here. Or anywhere, really, because we're having one about every two minutes up in this piece.
According to the world of Madeline, everything is worth crying over, and everything is worth a fight. If I tell her she's having Mac n' Cheese for dinner, (her most favoritest thing in the world) she'll claim she wants a hot dog. Meanwhile, she just spent the past five nights in a row crying for Mac n' Cheese. If I ask her if she wants to play outside, she runs crying into the living room. Meanwhile, every time we walk from the car to the door of our house, she begs to play outside. See where I'm going with this? It's like I'm living with a politician during election season....in diapers.
Sometimes our discipline is swift and merciless. Anything that could possibly injure her or others is non negotiable. Sometimes it's a give and take. For example, she must wear pants when we have company no matter how many times she yells, "I nakeds! I nakeds!" But if there's nobody there but us, I let her take her pants off. Thus, I'm teaching her a valuable life lesson: Walking around the house without pants is fine as long as there's no one else there to see you. Other times, it's best to just ignore her tantrums all together. Throw yourself on the floor all you want, Madeline, you are not getting chocolate for breakfast. Meanwhile, Mumma is going to calmly drink a cup of coffee mixed with Valium.
Mainly though? Mainly, we have no idea what we're doing. Baby instruction manuals are about the same size as Apple's instruction manuals. We might as well be harvesting rutabagas on the moon for all the good our explaining and disciplining is doing. Madeline is a total handful every second of the day. Her terror has even started to spread to daycare where she refuses to help clean up and instead dances on tables. Awesome.
Luckily, we're bigger than Madeline, and often more intelligent, and sometimes more rational, so we usually win these little power struggles.
Then, when I'm just about ready to pull out my hair and suggest Eric go get a vasectomy, Madeline does the trickiest thing of all. She acts sweet. She sits down to dinner and says, "Thank you, Mumma," before leaning in for a kiss. That little stinker.
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| Sometimes it takes two pacifiers to sooth the savage toddler. |
Pshh...my child will never act like that...or wear pants.
ReplyDeleteYeah, we'll see about that. ;).
ReplyDelete