I had a moment last night y’all. A pity party, if you will. And although I am feeling much better this morning, I am going to tell you about it. I don’t want anyone, particularly new readers, to think that life is all glitter and unicorns around these parts because, honestly, sometimes it is not.
I picked up Regan and she was in a very uncooperative mood. Never mind that she was not in the same clothes I dropped her off in which means she tinkled in the panties which means I have to do laundry as I have to do every single day with her since we started potty training. We got in the car and she started crying and screaming about something totally random like the color of the trees or the fact that I went left when she told me to go right. Her favorite phrase is “no, momma, don’t do it!” and she loves to shove her finger at me.
You should know that I don’t play that pointing fingers at me mess. And I don’t tolerate a sassy mouth.
We got home and she was still screaming. Neighbors were looking at me like WTF but I just shrugged and went in the house. She fell out on the floor when I closed the garage because I didn’t let her push the button. I told her to stop crying and she wouldn’t. She had received a couple of packages and a card and I told her we couldn’t open her presents until she stopped crying. The crying got worse.
She ended up sprawled out on the floor crying and kicking and screaming. I haven’t seen a tantrum like that in months. She wanted the card. “It’s my card momma! Gimme!”
You should know that I also don’t respond to the demands of a two-year old.
I put her in time out against the wall and went to make dinner. I told her when she was finished crying she could get up and wipe her face and blow her nose and join me in the kitchen. She cried for another 15 minutes before she came in to the kitchen and asked for milk.
She was fine through dinner and we played for about 20 minutes before I put her to bed a full 30 minutes earlier than usual. I think the crying wore her out so much she didn’t even fight bedtime like she normally does. I did not allow her to open her card or her presents.
After I put her down I went downstairs and poured a glass of wine. I was in a pissy mood. I started thinking about how lucky that little girl is. I work hard, do without and put up with a LOT of crap all because of her. I would love to have a cute condo in the city and drive a little red mini cooper and plan trips to Italy. Instead I live in a giant house in the boonies and drive a mommy car and plan trip to Middle Georgia so she can pick fruit.
I do it all for her and she doesn’t even appreciate it. I am hoping that this phase will be gone by the time she is old enough to know better. I refuse to raise an unappreciative and disrespectful child.