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After my daughter turned a year old and became a walking hummingbird who would get into everything, I naively thought that would probably be the most trying part of having a toddler. HaHaHaHaHaHa! *breathes* HaHaHaHaHaHa!
Enter what I call toddler PMS. I now know what my hubby has to put up with every month except my little girl’s toddler PMS is chronic. I’m sure that he would argue that my monthly PMS is too, but he doesn’t want me to rip his head off, both of them.
My daughter is usually very sweet and well-behaved. She also has such a gentle heart and when I catch glimpses of how she will be when she gets older, I feel so proud.
But out of the blue she will have meltdowns and tantrums. She has been climbing the terrible twos ladder for awhile and according to a terrible twos calculator I came across online (I couldn’t resist doing it and regretted it right after, kind of like when I lost my virginity) she will be in this stage for another 428 days – 23 hours – 42 minutes – and 32 seconds. Note to the terrible twos calculator people: bite me.
Before I had my daughter, I would see parents standing there with blank stares while their child would be kicking and screaming at a store. I would always think, “why aren’t they doing anything.” Now I know.
You aren’t quite sure what to do because in an instant your precious babe can go from talking in such a sweet little voice and giving you MWAH! kisses, to acting possessed while you’re waiting in a long line at the drugstore.
Your possessed child starts screaming at the top of their lungs, because you will no longer let them hold a box of tissues that they have chewed holes in. They throw themselves on the floor, while everyone in line and behind the pharmacy counter looks your way since it sounds like you’re slowly killing said child.
Not that I would know anything about that. *snort*
Yesterday was especially bad interesting. No matter what I said to my daughter, she would look at me, stick her bottom lip out, and do her “I’m being murdered” cry with tears streaming down her face.
“Be gentle with the kitty.” CRY. “Do you want your sippy?” CRYYYYYY. “Let’s go to the playground,” *she runs to the front door* “we have to get your shoes on before we go.” CRYYYYYYYYYY!!!
Me: ………mutters “holy crap”……..
The playground is less than a block from our house and I carry her across the street, then let her run on the soccer field that’s next to the playground. She didn’t like this setup yesterday and was struggling to break free while I was crossing the street. I’m sure it looked like I was kidnapping her.
After I set her down she ran a few feet, stopped, and just stood there for several seconds. Could she perhaps be changing from a cranky toddler to a cranky zombie toddler? Nope. It was toddler PMS. She threw herself on the ground and started pointing at me while whining. I had no idea what she wanted and had to play 20 questions with her, finally realizing it’s the keys in my pocket that she wants.
Happy again with keys in hand, the little hummingbird and I made it to the playground in one piece, barely. She went down the slide a few times and then ran around by the swings. Then she tripped. I ran over to her and picked her up, making sure she was okay. That made me THE most horrible mother in the entire world.
She does this thing where she’ll take a few steps, she falls on her bum, and then repeats it a few times. She finds it so funny.
While on the playground having her tantrum, my little girl was screaming and pushing me away as I tried to help her up. While continuing to scream, she got up, walked a few steps, and slammed right down on her bum. She also started wailing “MAAHHHMAA!” This went on for a minute or so.
It was one of those moments where I thought someone slipped something in my coffee because I felt like I was having a bad acid trip.
After getting over the “what in the hell” aspect of her meltdown, I looked at her while she continued doing this and it took all I had to stop from busting out laughing. I felt bad for even thinking it’s funny, but oh my gawd, it was. I know I would lose my mind if I didn’t see the funny side of it.
Even with all of the tantrums, the crying, the flopping around like a fish when I try to pick her up, and the whining, I still can’t wait to have another baby. …But I’m sure the next one will be a perfect little angel.