Tears and Blood-Curdling Wails
I cannot fathom--cannot even begin to fathom--that when Doodles was the age that Pie currently is, I was one mere month away from giving birth.
And that is simply because the Pie is making me insane. I was going to actually write that I don't know how this happened, because Doodles was such an angel at this age... and then I went back and read my blog. Hmmm. That selective Mommy memory is already setting in, because, apparently, Doodles was no angel at this age. However, Doodles had a secret weapon the Pie doesn't have: Doodles had the finger. Yes, that's right, Doodles has always been--and may always be--a finger sucker. He also has a thing for his belly button, a holdover from the days when he was obsessed with my belly button and I was able to transfer him to his own (and woe to the person who tries to block that belly button with a snow suit or tucked in shirt). Whenever Doodles got upset, he'd retreat to his finger and belly button and all would be calm.
Ah, the Pie. The Pie who's only source of comfort is the Ming Ming, which I am trying to slowly but surely (and with utter failure) wean her from. So instead of soothing herself, Pie works herself into the tizzy of all tizzies. She has mastered the temper tantrum like nothing I've seen before. What causes temper tantrums? Easier to list what doesn't cause them. What doesn't cause them is... Hmmm, let me get back to you on that.
Here is a random sampling of tempter tantrums we had in one twenty-four hour period. This is in no way a complete list:
--We're three minutes in on a twenty-five minute drive to a friend's for a playdate. Pie is wearing her galoshes. No, it's not raining. Yes, it's close to 90 degrees. But it is the footwear she has chosen and I am not one to make any fashion demands, so galoshes it is. Only these galoshes are hand-me-downs and they're two sizes too big, so while we are going 55 mph on a highway, and she is safely strapped in her car seat, the boot falls off her foot and onto the floor. "Booooooooot!" she yells. "Sweetie, I'm driving and I can't reach your boot. As soon as we get there, I'll put the boot back on you." "Booooooooooooot! Boooooooooot! Boooooooooooooooooot." Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--At the ice skating rink, Pie is on the ice with her coach. A boy waiting to enter the ice falls down. I help him to his feet. Pie witnesses my absolute betrayal, the fact that I have touched another child. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--At one of Doodles's friend's houses, the play tunnel, basketball hoop, water table, and selection of snacks is insufficient. Pie wants to go elsewhere. Specifically, the street. In traffic. I, surprisingly, have to veto. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue. Playdate ends early.
--Pie wants to wear her polar bear socks to bed. "No, dinosaurs! Dinosaurs!" Put on dinosaur socks. Dinosaur socks are yanked off. "Socks, socks!" Other socks are found, put on, and subsequently yanked off. We give up on the socks, place Pie in her crib, and leave. "Socks! Socks! Soooooocks!" comes the wail from the bedroom. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--"Pie, would you like water or milk with lunch?" "Water." "Would you like a sippy or big girl cup?" "Big girl cup." Return with water. "Other big girl cup! Other big girl cup!" Try three other big girl cups. "Other big girl cup!" Cup goes flying across table, splashing water all over mail. I decide no water for Pie. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--At home Pie doesn't want to get dressed. When she does get dressed, she has to select and then reject twelve items. Which is fine. Because we're home. But then we go out and in the middle of, oh, anything, Pie will walk up to me and suddenly demand, "Other dress! Other dress!" I don't know about you, but I try to carry as little with me as possible when I go out. And I generally don't carry around multiple changes of clothing for my daughter. As you can imagine, tears and blood-curdling wails ensure.
--Pie tries to pour coffee on Adam's work computer. Adam removes his work computer. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
We've been having these kinds of days lately. Doodles is sharp enough to realize that when Pie is really going strong, he should back off. Granted, not always, but he generally cuts me enough slack that I only have to deal with one angry child at a time. He's gotten good at saving his misbehavoir for her naps, although in some ways it would be better if I could just lock them both in a room at once.
But I survive, counting the minutes till Adam gets home and I can chill. And by morning, I'm revitalized, ready to start again.
This past Monday, was particularly bad and I couldn't wait to get those munchkins to bed. After all was quiet, I poured myself a big glass of wine and sat down to finish up our DVD of Big Love. By the time it was done, I was feeling human again, and I got into bed and curled up with my book. Things were looking up. By 10:30, the lights were off and I was sleeping in my warm cozy bed.
Until... 11:03, when the Pie started screaming again. By 11:23, there were little feet digging into my side as Doodles escaped the noise of their shared room (and the crying has to be pretty obnoxious to wake Doodles up--almost nothing wakes him up!) to our room to avoid the screaming. So it wasn't a great night's sleep.
But you know how there are those special moments with your kid that just makes it all worthwhile? Let me tell... this wasn't one of them: The next morning, I woke up to a warm body snuggling against me. Doodles took my arm and wrapped it around his body and he inched in closer. We lay there quietly, enjoying the peace. Adam was downstairs, the Pie was--finally--sound asleep. After fifteen minutes, Doodles rolled over, and gave me a huge smile. "Mommy?" he said.
"Mmmhmmm?" I replied, in my happy place.
"Mommy?" Again, the heart-melting smile. "Mommy, why do you have such a big tummy?" Poke, poke, poke right in the belly.
Let the day begin.
And that is simply because the Pie is making me insane. I was going to actually write that I don't know how this happened, because Doodles was such an angel at this age... and then I went back and read my blog. Hmmm. That selective Mommy memory is already setting in, because, apparently, Doodles was no angel at this age. However, Doodles had a secret weapon the Pie doesn't have: Doodles had the finger. Yes, that's right, Doodles has always been--and may always be--a finger sucker. He also has a thing for his belly button, a holdover from the days when he was obsessed with my belly button and I was able to transfer him to his own (and woe to the person who tries to block that belly button with a snow suit or tucked in shirt). Whenever Doodles got upset, he'd retreat to his finger and belly button and all would be calm.
Ah, the Pie. The Pie who's only source of comfort is the Ming Ming, which I am trying to slowly but surely (and with utter failure) wean her from. So instead of soothing herself, Pie works herself into the tizzy of all tizzies. She has mastered the temper tantrum like nothing I've seen before. What causes temper tantrums? Easier to list what doesn't cause them. What doesn't cause them is... Hmmm, let me get back to you on that.
Here is a random sampling of tempter tantrums we had in one twenty-four hour period. This is in no way a complete list:
--We're three minutes in on a twenty-five minute drive to a friend's for a playdate. Pie is wearing her galoshes. No, it's not raining. Yes, it's close to 90 degrees. But it is the footwear she has chosen and I am not one to make any fashion demands, so galoshes it is. Only these galoshes are hand-me-downs and they're two sizes too big, so while we are going 55 mph on a highway, and she is safely strapped in her car seat, the boot falls off her foot and onto the floor. "Booooooooot!" she yells. "Sweetie, I'm driving and I can't reach your boot. As soon as we get there, I'll put the boot back on you." "Booooooooooooot! Boooooooooot! Boooooooooooooooooot." Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--At the ice skating rink, Pie is on the ice with her coach. A boy waiting to enter the ice falls down. I help him to his feet. Pie witnesses my absolute betrayal, the fact that I have touched another child. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--At one of Doodles's friend's houses, the play tunnel, basketball hoop, water table, and selection of snacks is insufficient. Pie wants to go elsewhere. Specifically, the street. In traffic. I, surprisingly, have to veto. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue. Playdate ends early.
--Pie wants to wear her polar bear socks to bed. "No, dinosaurs! Dinosaurs!" Put on dinosaur socks. Dinosaur socks are yanked off. "Socks, socks!" Other socks are found, put on, and subsequently yanked off. We give up on the socks, place Pie in her crib, and leave. "Socks! Socks! Soooooocks!" comes the wail from the bedroom. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--"Pie, would you like water or milk with lunch?" "Water." "Would you like a sippy or big girl cup?" "Big girl cup." Return with water. "Other big girl cup! Other big girl cup!" Try three other big girl cups. "Other big girl cup!" Cup goes flying across table, splashing water all over mail. I decide no water for Pie. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
--At home Pie doesn't want to get dressed. When she does get dressed, she has to select and then reject twelve items. Which is fine. Because we're home. But then we go out and in the middle of, oh, anything, Pie will walk up to me and suddenly demand, "Other dress! Other dress!" I don't know about you, but I try to carry as little with me as possible when I go out. And I generally don't carry around multiple changes of clothing for my daughter. As you can imagine, tears and blood-curdling wails ensure.
--Pie tries to pour coffee on Adam's work computer. Adam removes his work computer. Tears and blood-curdling wails ensue.
We've been having these kinds of days lately. Doodles is sharp enough to realize that when Pie is really going strong, he should back off. Granted, not always, but he generally cuts me enough slack that I only have to deal with one angry child at a time. He's gotten good at saving his misbehavoir for her naps, although in some ways it would be better if I could just lock them both in a room at once.
But I survive, counting the minutes till Adam gets home and I can chill. And by morning, I'm revitalized, ready to start again.
This past Monday, was particularly bad and I couldn't wait to get those munchkins to bed. After all was quiet, I poured myself a big glass of wine and sat down to finish up our DVD of Big Love. By the time it was done, I was feeling human again, and I got into bed and curled up with my book. Things were looking up. By 10:30, the lights were off and I was sleeping in my warm cozy bed.
Until... 11:03, when the Pie started screaming again. By 11:23, there were little feet digging into my side as Doodles escaped the noise of their shared room (and the crying has to be pretty obnoxious to wake Doodles up--almost nothing wakes him up!) to our room to avoid the screaming. So it wasn't a great night's sleep.
But you know how there are those special moments with your kid that just makes it all worthwhile? Let me tell... this wasn't one of them: The next morning, I woke up to a warm body snuggling against me. Doodles took my arm and wrapped it around his body and he inched in closer. We lay there quietly, enjoying the peace. Adam was downstairs, the Pie was--finally--sound asleep. After fifteen minutes, Doodles rolled over, and gave me a huge smile. "Mommy?" he said.
"Mmmhmmm?" I replied, in my happy place.
"Mommy?" Again, the heart-melting smile. "Mommy, why do you have such a big tummy?" Poke, poke, poke right in the belly.
Let the day begin.
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