Someone tell me, remind me it gets easier? There are days I cringe at the word "MOMMY!" I literally have to barricade myself in the bathroom and throw myself down on the floor, rocking in a fetal position for a few minutes before I have the courage to venture back out and become "MOMMY!" again!
Lola is into raging fits and blaming everything that goes wrong on me. She gets out of the tub and she's wet and cold, it's my fault. We go to the playground and she gets sand in her shoes, it's my fault. She gets marched up to her room for a well deserved time out, YEP, it's my fault. The other day she screamed and called me a "stupid loser!" That vitroil rant earned her another 15 minutes and no TV that night. She fights with me when I brush her hair. She didn't want a ponytail and got syrup in her hair at breakfast....AGAIN, my fault.
The best way to handle these is to also give myself a time out. Gibson has resorted to throwing everything and anything her can get his hands on. He throws his heavy Tonka trucks at Lola. He lobs his sippy cups at Lola's head. He hurtles his plates and bowls to the floor, usually with food still in them. He's taken to spitting his milk out and allowing it to waterfall down his chest and belly onto the floor. He's reverted back to using his fingers in his applesauce and creating his own hair elixir with mashed fruits and cracker crumbs. And I thought sand was hard to get out of his hair!
He loves to play Sean's drums in the attic and will scream "Dums, Dums" until hes's almost passed out. He screams "bathy" at the top of his lungs and rams his head into the bathroom door if we don't open it. Best of all, he takes off his diaper and flings it anywhere he likes. This is most often followed by peeing on the floor or rugs. We've started potty training, silver lining I guess. He found a Coco Puff wedged in the sofa cushion, pointed and said "poop!"
He's insists on clinging to me at every chance. He pinches and hits Lola when they're in the convertible back seat. The car is fairly small and there is less than six inches between their car seats. On the way to the grocery store today I had to pull over and referee their hitting, squabbling, bare knuckle brawl fest.
While Gibby finally took his nap, I thought I'd put off vacuuming and bake banana bread with Lola, some quality mom/daughter stuff. That Betty Crocker moment resulted in a time out for Lola, in her room with no DVD privileges for the rest of the night. The banana bread smells great though. Maybe I'll lock myself in the bathroom with a book and a loaf of that!!!!!!!
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