Oh, not to worry. It's not deadly and you won't get it from reading. I'll be fine. We all will.
The thing is... when I'm grumpy and start melting down, so does my 2 1/2 year old Ilana.
Let the spiral begin!
I had an ok day today. Good if you count all the Girl Scout Cookies I happily devoured. I went to the chiropractor to try to get some help with my recurring sciatica and messed up body thanks to my jobs (you try lugging a massage table and then a 2 year old all day). I went to pick up Ilana at The Clubhouse. She had happily been teaching James how to throw toys. And didn't want to help pick them up. Because a movie was just turned on.
*Sigh* Begin meltdown now.
"Ilana, please pick the toys." "No Mommy"
"You need to pick up the toys." "No mommy. Watch movie."
"Ilana, this is your last chance." *Silence as she distractedly watched the TV that I couldn't turn off*
So I gently grabbed her, her shoes, her coat, and her bag and told her to "Say Goodbye." Out the door we walked.
OH! The agony! It's like I'd just stuck a hot poker in her eye! The tears! The screams! But I kept calm and just kept walking. I generally don't give a hoot what others think about my parenting since they don't actually live with me and know my parenting.
Into the stairwell to the parking garage. The tears! The screams! She wanted to walk so badly! It was obvious that I am the WORST MOTHER EVER! She wanted her shoes on. She wanted down.
I opened the car and put her in. She didn't fight this very much. I asked if she wanted tacos for dinner. *Sniff sniff* "Chicky tacos?" All tacos are chicken tacos by name for Ilana. Yes, tacos. Ilana likes tacos. It was already my plan to make tacos. The beast was calm for a few minutes.
Throughout the night we had various meltdowns. Not wanting to put away her coat. Pulling our vizsla Ginger's tail and being put in her place. (I admit-- this was scary it happened so fast but everyone is fine) Having a post-bath meltdown that I still don't understand.
The grumpier she got, the grumpier I got. And the grumpier I got, the grumpier she got. My poor husband came home to a lot of raging estrogen. And promptly left to play soccer after Ilana went to bed. Really, who can blame him?
I am blaming this day on hormones. Yep. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Tomorrow will be another day. I shall have to stay away from the cookies... maybe the sugar rush and crash threw me off. Or maybe today was just a grumpy day.
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