8:45 … Yep, that’s when she finally gave up and went to bed tonight. These last two weeks have brought on a new round of bedtimes which have ranged anywhere from 7:30 – 10:00. This along with the added bonus of middle of the night visits that usually last for an hour of Miss Madi and I in the same bed until she finally settles and is okay with going back into her crib. My girl has been a 7:00 – 7:30 bedtime girl for ever, what happened to bedtime?
Sleep schedules completely haywire, are topped with the new demands of my suddenly vocal and sturdily mobile child, who of course has never been less than completely determined. Throwing fits at the drop of a hat, just about anywhere and throwing toys and any available object to express frustration, usually directed at me because my attention has been diverted from her, have become daily norms. I’m exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. I’d run and hide but she’d just come find me … 🙂
So because I’ve heard of the Bad Mom’s Club, and was certainly feeling like one tonight, after serving Madison dinner on the couch accompanied by a movie, I decided to check them out and found this wonderful little tidbit describing two year olds. So for all of you who tell me my daughter’s advanced, its a double edge sword because she had already hit the two’s phase by 18 months. Anyway, this quote literally brought tears to my eyes:
“It’s not like having an infant who can’t walk, whom you can then plunk in the middle of the living room floor and at least drink your coffee. It’s not like having a five year old who might be at least capable, however badly, of wiping their own butt and tying their own shoes. No, two – and from the looks of it, well in to three – appears to be very possibly the most bone-wearying exhausting phase of parenting.” (Please don’t tell me it gets worse. I can’t take it right now.)
They’re like unleashed orangutans. It’s the constant movement, the need to be in to everything, the seeming inability to listen to anything – or, let me correct that, the ability to listen and then do the exact opposite of whatever it is you’re telling them to do – the running, running, running, usually while shrieking, the NO DATS MINE!s, the grabbing, the food throwing, the food refusing – I suspect you get the point and, if your child is over two, you may be experiencing flashbacks. My apologies.
Never does sinking in to a kitchen chair at 9 pm in front of dinner and a glass of pinot feel so welcomed as the day when the toddler was up all night then up all day and shrieked from one end of it to the other, let’s put it that way.”
I am teary eyed because I realize that I am not crazy, I am not losing it, I am not the only one going through this, and thankfully I am not the only parent finally sitting down after a long day with a glass of wine (Or possibly I am teary & bleary from exhaustion). One thing is for certain though, I wouldn’t trade being her mommy for the world. I love this crazy, tenacious, overwhelming, amazing, little girl. I’ll admit though, sometimes I wish I could be the one throwing myself on the floor and screaming, pushing people I am frustrated with, yelling “That’s Mine!” when someone takes my parking spot … 🙂