She's a three foot and a little bit, animal. The devil's spawn if there ever was one. I want to take her out into the wild and set her free. Since, at three years old, she already thinks she knows everything and does whatever the hell she wants. No is not just a word...it's what she believes and all that she stands for. Defiance stronger than a three foot layer of ice on a lake.
The morning has gone a little something like this...she comes running into my room with a band aid saying she has an "ow". She doesn't have an "ow". It's her new favourite thing, everything is an "ow" and everything requires band aids. Granted, we made the mistake of buying her some cute little Tinker Bell band aids a while ago and she thought they were a toy. Everyday she wanted to wear one on each hand or each foot. But if there really was an "ow" she didn't want it. But now that the band aids...which weren't cheap by the way...are gone, she gets into the regular band aids.
Child locks don't work on the bathroom door anymore. She can get them off. Plus with the newest milestone of potty training, we can't very well keep her out of the bathroom all the time. Anyway, she has the band aid in hand when she comes into my room. And of course, instantly I knew I was not going to like what I found in the bathroom. I could smell it before I even got out of bed.
Every lotion she could get a hold of, what remained of my anti-frizz oil for my hair, and toothpaste, combined together in the sink and on the counter into one big greasy, minty, flowery, musky mess. And water. Water everywhere. The counter, the floor...inside the medicine cabinet...a slippery mess. And to make matters worse, she decided she was going to try and pee on the potty without any help and as of yesterday, doesn't want to use the potty seat on the toilet...so since she couldn't get up there herself, she peed all over the floor instead of coming to tell me she had to go.
She's been doing so good on that front for the past month. With only a few minor accidents. I don't fault her for peeing on the floor. It happens.
So of course, I'm barely out of bed, and ready to lose my mind. I put her in her room until I could calm down and clean up the mess. But then...
Then...she flat out refuses to put on panties. She gets mad, slams the door and resorts to her newest technique of letting us know she's pissed - starts throwing all her toys at the door. I ignore her, I'm getting kind of good at ignoring the tantrums, and clean up the mess, not before wanting to pull out my hair and being on the verge of tears because the frustration keeps building. I don't want to talk to her, I don't want to see her.
I clean the mess and take a shower, knowing she's fine in her room. The shower doesn't help.
I try to talk to her afterwards. Gentle and at her level. But she is apparently not ready to talk because she hits me in the face and slams the door again all the while screaming, "MY ROOM. MY ROOM." I take that as..."get the f#&k out of my room". (Can't wait until she's 15) Or something very close. So I go to my room, lay on the bed and want to scream. Throw a tantrum. But I know it doesn't work for her, so why should it work for me.
Instead I wrack my brain trying to figure out what to do to make her listen. There has to be something. Not ALL 3 year olds are like this are they? I got nothing. There need to be consequences for her actions, but I don't have a clue what those consequences should be. What's appropriate for a 3 year old?
Only solution I have at this point...DRINK!