Since that day, my life has gone from standard to OHMYFUCKINGGAWDSOMEONEGIVEMEAXANAXNOW. It's starting to get to me.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my daughter more than anything in the world. She's smart, funny, easily amused, and sweet.
Okay, I lied -- she USED to be all those things. Now? She refuses to acknowledge when anyone is talking to her, she pretends like she has no clue what she's doing (even after she's done whatever task is at hand a billion times), she's mean (mostly to me, so don't worry), she can't play by herself for more than 45 seconds at a time, and she hates everything and everyone she used to love.
She's become a diva. And, I say this with as much love as I can, she's driving me crazy.
Like, for instance, there's a person who works the night shift in the house. Miss Diva has concluded that her normal speaking tone is "Banshee". I've resorted to begging for her to lower her voice from the closet where I'm hiding with my Xanax and my coffee mug.
|Image credit given below, edited by a frantic me. In the closet. HELP!|
Or, let's talk bathroom time. She's been potty trained for a looooooong while. She rarely needs assistance. Well, she rarely needed assistance. Now? If I don't follow her and hover, she won't wipe. Or she'll pee in the dirty laundry basket.. or the floor. She did that last night while brushing her teeth, with me standing RIGHT THERE.
And what about meal time? That, too, is no longer easy and carefree. She hates everything, and demands popsicles, chips, cookies, cake, gummies, candy, and chocolate milk. I've even made broccoli every night (her favourite vegetable since she was old enough to munch solid food), and all she does is yell at me and try to make herself throw up.
Kids. They do the crazy things.
|Oh, Toddlers And Tiaras, you no longer scare me.|
Now, I realize a lot of this has to do with the issue of my current marital status, and the fact that she's coping. She also gets mad when we aren't seeing my "brother-from-another-mother" Jon and my friend Cory every single second of the day, or even once a week, lately.
But seriously? The age of four is going to be the death of me. I have tried every single method in the book, to no avail. I've tried timeout, I've tried fussing, and I've even tried taking away privileges. This shit, it doesn't work.
I've since given up on anything but the "Ida Ruedell Method". My Gramma raised me with an iron fist, and if I did good, and listened, I got major rewards. I'm implementing it now, and it's kind-of helping?
Example: Every day, we sit silently, hands in our laps, backs straight, and ankles crossed, for 15 minutes. If she does it, she gets one episode of her cartoon of choice, and one of her toys back. So far she's gotten two toys and two episodes of Ruby Gloom.
|Or, probably not, because Stephen is terrified of you. The cat, he has a hidey-hole.|
Now, to explain, my Gramma always tried to teach me to be a lady. She taught me to cook, sew, clean, mend, speak, entertain, and the importance of patience and listening skills. The sitting was always started with the line, "A lady always knows how to sit and wait patiently. Silence is golden, and good posture means you won't have a hump."
If I was good, I got a magazine to read the next time. If I wiggled or complained, I got bopped in the back of the head and time started over. Also, I had to do twice the chores I normally did, and there was zero taste-testing when we cooked meals.
The kid has nothing left to lose. She's without toys, movies, cartoons, "fun baths", and treats. It's been rainy and gross outside, so she's been inside since Saturday. I don't know what else to do.
What I do know, is I have coffee, wine, and anxiety meds. And for now, that's good enough for me, because parenting ain't pretty, or easy, and you just have to roll with it.
|And I have a "No Returns, No Refunds" policy.|
Photos that are not my own were found via a Google Image search at the following places:
Facebook, Baby eCard
Future Cat Lady eCard
Closet Creeper Picture, Sans Editing
Toddlers And Tiaras Still