Going…Going…GONE

08Mar10

My sanity, that is.

You often hear descriptions that toddlers are like Neanderthals. Mine, Sarah especially, are more like mental patients.  To be more specific, girlfriend is batshit crazy.  Sad thing is, I’m no different.

Take this recent, and quite typical, episode stemming from her pre-nap diaper change:

I’ll preface by saying that lately she’s been eschewing pants by screeching, “No knees!  No knees!”  Yeah, there’s the beginning of the crazytalk.  So as long as it’s warm enough I just go with it and make sure she’s got at least a onesie on so the dipe stays intact.  Today I had no onesies readily available and couldn’t have predicted what was going to happen, so I thought I could give her a choice of pants to wear.  She was excited by the prospect.

Me:  Flirty pink skort or pink poodle pj pants?

Sarah: Yes, Mommy!

Me:  Oh, ah, you have to choose.  Puppy pants or skort?

Sarah:  (In a desperately hysterical screech that came out of nowhere.) PUPPY PANTS!!  PUPPY PANTS!!!!!!  PUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPYYYYYYYYYYYYY PAAAAAANNNNTS!!!!!!

So, silly me, I go to put the puppy pants on.

Sarah:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! (Much crying, wailing, flailing, etc.)

Me:  (Trying to keep the tone light.)  Oh, you want the skort?  (And I remove the pants and attempt to put on the skort.

Sarah:  WAHHHHHHHH!  NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  HORRIBLE SHRIEKS OF HORROR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m really starting to lose it now – I’m hungry, tired, and so fucking ready for naptime.  So, teeth clenched I suggest that maybe she wants both on?  And I try to make that happen.

Here’s where I should type what she said, but I don’t know how to recreate it.   Loud hysteria with wild flailing.  Manic thrashing.   So fun.

I have no clue how to remain calm during shitstorms like this.  I get so mad.  It’s not logical to get mad at a crazy not-quite 2-yr old.  Her brain is not fully developed and it’s going haywire.  But it doesn’t change how I feel in the moment.  I yelled, possibly even shrieked a bit myself, hucked the skort into the closet and told her it was poodle pants or the highway.  She was devastated.  Shocker.  Then it somehow occurred to me to offer her the skort to cuddle with for her nap and it fucking worked.  HUH?  A random skort from a drawer we haven’t opened since summer.  Who’d a thunk it?

She seems to be fine now, knock wood, but I’m still reeling.

I think it’s important to point out that I don’t think Sarah is much crazier than any other toddler – this is more about how I respond to it than her behavior. Why do I get so nutty?  What do I care what pants she wears or how long it takes to figure it out?  Why does her shrieking = me yelling?  Why don’t I realize that this is really not helping to show her how to react calmly to adversity?  Why don’t I just wake up and realize I’m a victim of my very own genetics?  Why don’t I have more booze in the house?

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3 Responses to “Going…Going…GONE”

  1. 1 Tracy

    OMG, I am laughing my ass off. You have 100% completely and utterly described how a toddler acts on any given day completely out of the blue. I know…I have two of them. They can be laughing or cuddling one minute, and the next minute they are completely out of their ghourds. Weird. Thanks for making light of it. Kind of. I’m off to open a bottle of wine.

  2. 2 Superstar

    Because you’re effing tired, that’s why. But you do get to drink. Probably not early in the day, otherwise the neighbors might talk. I have to survive these episodes alcohol free.

    Take Megan for instance. The other day, she went apeshit at the mere suggestion that it was too cold outside to wear nothing but a bathing suit. Silly me, why can’t she wear a suit when it is 20 degrees? We compromised (read: I held her squirming screaming butt) until I got the suit off, clothes on, and then suit back on over the clothes and we were both sort of happy.

  3. 3 ms planner

    I love your momma posts. You have such a great way of tackling the mundane but maddening parts of motherhood and make them seem so hilarious (when, I know, at the time they are so clearly not).

    In our house, we have meltdowns over shoes. Or boots. Or shoes versus boots. Makes me all twitchy thinking about her as teen.


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