I forgot about this phase.
I should have recorded it with the two older children, so that it wouldn't have caught me so off guard and in the end, been such a pisser.
My soon-to-be two-year old daughter is going to be the death of me, literally.
She's teething, has some form of a cold or allergies, and is refusing to sleep through the night in her bed.
She's learned to throw temper tantrums and instead of shouting "no" in disapproval, her signature retort is "MO!" which means no in Claire speak.
She is beyond exhausting. She's consuming so much energy and mental mojo that my husband and I are ready to hop the next plane to anywhere.
"It's just a season."
"This too shall pass."
"Try to enjoy it. Soon, they'll be grown and gone."
All of this is great advice, but offers little to no comfort when you're thick in the trenches.
The only thing that provides refuge is her crib. She hasn't yet figured out how to crawl out...and a sound machine which somewhat drowns out the incessant whining...and a glass of fill in the blank which sometimes numbs the constant irritation.
I feel horrible documenting these feelings, but it is what it is...the joys of parenting a toddler.
I'm sure I'll miss it, but definitely not today.
Showing posts with label Challenges of Parenting a Toddler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Challenges of Parenting a Toddler. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Hell on Wheels...Parenting a Toddler
Today and for the last several days, I've been challenged beyond my limitations in parenting my toddler.
Claire is 18-months of feisty, "I do it my own way," sass that breaks the heart of every person she sees because she is both adorable and complete hell on wheels.
I will be the first to admit that there are bigger (much bigger) problems in the world. But right now, this 26 pound, blonde haired, blue eyed daughter of mine has me dreaming about liquor cabinets on a regular basis.
Most everywhere we go, she shrieks, occasionally bites and frequently pinches those she doesn't see eye to eye with. We've been kicked out of the nursery at church, paged to come back to the nursery at the gym, given the stink eye countless times at the grocery store and endured sad stares in the park.
To say she's a handful is an understatement. She is by far and away the most independent, fearless, determined little person that I've ever met which is probably why God gave her to us as the last of the brood.
So what do I do to maintain my sanity? The trick seems to be to exercise daily, indulge in some form of chocolate, commiserate with like minded mommies, and wait for the magical day when she starts speaking in paragraphs (which is what my pediatrician assures me happens with the littliest siblings).
Until then, if you happen to see me with my brood and my patience looks worn, the bags under my eyes look thick, tell me that I'm beautiful and that my children are dolls...I'll give you $50. Lying is sometimes a good thing.
Claire is 18-months of feisty, "I do it my own way," sass that breaks the heart of every person she sees because she is both adorable and complete hell on wheels.
I will be the first to admit that there are bigger (much bigger) problems in the world. But right now, this 26 pound, blonde haired, blue eyed daughter of mine has me dreaming about liquor cabinets on a regular basis.
Most everywhere we go, she shrieks, occasionally bites and frequently pinches those she doesn't see eye to eye with. We've been kicked out of the nursery at church, paged to come back to the nursery at the gym, given the stink eye countless times at the grocery store and endured sad stares in the park.
To say she's a handful is an understatement. She is by far and away the most independent, fearless, determined little person that I've ever met which is probably why God gave her to us as the last of the brood.
So what do I do to maintain my sanity? The trick seems to be to exercise daily, indulge in some form of chocolate, commiserate with like minded mommies, and wait for the magical day when she starts speaking in paragraphs (which is what my pediatrician assures me happens with the littliest siblings).
Until then, if you happen to see me with my brood and my patience looks worn, the bags under my eyes look thick, tell me that I'm beautiful and that my children are dolls...I'll give you $50. Lying is sometimes a good thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)