Tuesday, December 7, 2010

I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round. An invisible force is pushing and pushing. It’s going so fast and I’m dizzy enough to throw up.

Mini Me is driving me nuts. Those terrible twos really are terrible and she’s right in the middle of them with no sign of slowing down.

Yesterday went a little something like this…

ME: “Please don’t touch Christmas tree.”

HER: Continues to touch the Christmas tree.

ME: “Do you want a time out?”

HER: Shakes her head and moves away from the tree, only to do to the Christmas lights that hang and the wall and plug them in. Unplug them. Plug them in. Unplug them.

ME: “If you touch the lights again you’re going for a time out.”

HER: Smiles and touches the lights again.

ME: Put her in her time out spot. “Two minutes.”

HER: Cries, kicks, screams. But sits there.

ME: Sit and enjoy the two minutes of semi-quiet. Get her from her spot, explain why she’s there. She makes sounds like she’s talking back. We hug and kiss and off we go.

HER: Dumps out her toy box, turns it bottom side up so she can reach items on the top of her dresser.

ME: “Get down from there before you fall.”

HER: Sits on box with open container of bum cream in her lap. Smears it on her face, legs, arms.

ME: Go back to what I was doing. I can’t remember what I was doing.

HER: Pushes toy box into kitchen. Starts pulling stuff off the counter.

ME: “I asked you not to climb on that.”

HER: Smiles, laughs, grabs toy box and begins to run away with it.

ME: What was I doing?

HER: Rustle, rustle, scratch, scratch. Plunk.

ME: “Get out of the garbage can.”

HER: Hides under microwave shelf.

ME: Go back to whatever I was doing. I think it was laundry.

HER: Runs into her bedroom. Tries to climb the bookshelf which thankfully is strapped to the wall. She gets down, and starts to bring all her toys into the living room. Dances around, twirls, laughs, runs and kicks the ball. Pulls on stockings hung from the fireplace.

ME: Wants to laugh, wants to cry. I’m exhausted and I’ve only been up for an hour.

And the day continues mostly like this. More time outs, more blowing on my hot coffee and touching the cup when asked not to. Tipping the cup over so I have to wash the carpet. Climbing onto the kitchen table, pulling stuff out of the garbage can, opening the dishwasher, grabbing dishes and running and hiding with them. Opening the laptop, turning it off, turning it on, pulling shoes out of the closet. Refusing to eat what’s offered, taking off her clothes and diaper. Taking all the clothes out of her dresser, laughing and running away when I try to encourage her to help me clean it up.

Pulls it all out again.





Time outs.


Clean up toys.

Dumps toys out again.


Touching. Touching. Touching.

Won’t nap.


Screams. Kicks. Bites. Slaps. (This is her, not me. Just to clarify.)

And around and around we go.

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