One of the very first things I had to learn as a Mommy was patience.
As in:
Just be patient... She probably WON'T scream all night. Just most of it.
Just be patient... She'll eventually stop moving long enough for you to change her diaper. Maybe just in time to potty train.
Just be patient... She'll grow out of it. No. She won't.
Just be patient... And give her some goddamned Tylenol, already!
Patience is a virtue that honestly, I have to learn and re-learn every single day. Especially when we're living the movie/documentary of Toddlerhood: The Bi-Polar Years.
I remember, before I had a toddler, thinking to myself: "Seriously... I survived the first three months of parenthood... having a toddler should be a piece of cake. It can't possibly be as bad as I've heard."
Fast forward 17 months later and OMG... those people - the people that people quote as "they"... as in "they say that the toddler years will make you want rip off your own arm and beat the next stranger that passes by with it.."... THEY WERE RIGHT.
Honestly, we hardly have a day where there's not some kind of a dramatic scene the likes of Grey's Anatomy - or, I dunno, American Idol, maybe? - have never seen. Not that we actually watch these shows anymore... because we're often in the middle of a full-on meltdown. Usually caused by Mommy or Daddy not doing exactly what The Toddler wants. Be it holding her, not holding her, not cutting her grapes/bananas/insert other choking hazard here fast enough, feeding her, not letting her play with matches, not letting her drink bleach... you know, things that you start to wonder "Is the fit really worth it? I mean, how harmful can bleach really be?"
And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being patient, when all I want to do is rationally explain to The Toddler that it's not okay to hit Mommy in the face because you didn't want peas tonight. Why can't you, a thriving - albeit verbally-challenged - 20 month old understand the concept of ONE. MOOD? Mommy's not down with the Happy-One-Second, Deranged-The-Next Personality Disorder of The Terrible 16 Months and Up.
That's right... Terrible Twos? Please. I would give my pregnancy-induced cavity-filled teeth for this crap to have started when she was 24 months.
I cannot keep up with the I want up, I want down, I want peas, THE PEAS ARE TRYING TO KILL ME, MOMMY! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?, I love you, I hate you, I want my dolly, DON'T TOUCH MY DOLLY!, I want your phone, Your phone is my phone, My phone is my phone... the rest of you can go screw yourself... And if you ever even think about taking my phone (your phone) away from me, the eruption that will take place will make Vesuvius look like a mere pimple bursting.... mentality of The Toddler Years.
Honestly... can't. keep. up.
"They" keep saying that one day we'll look back at this period in our lives with melancholy about how easy life was... and how fleeting these times are.
I suspect I'll look back on these days and think... I cannot believe they made it out alive.
Because, honestly? "These days" are the reasons that some animals eat their young.
1 comment:
I'll trade you for those times. It's all relative. The better part now is they can get their own food/clothes and put themselves to bed when I've just about HAD IT!
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