After a daily barrage of violent tantrums for I don’t know how long by my toddler I finally had enough. I’m DONE. She is being shipped to Mexico in the morning or maybe given away to a extended family member who we only see at reunions.
“Hey family member! I haven’t seen you in 10 years. Here, take my kid, raise her as your own until she is 4 or 5, and done with the terrible 2’s. Thanks a lot. See you at the next get together that no one under 60 wants to attend!”
Something along those lines. The details are still up in the air but needless to say, I am done.
My stress level peaked today as my daughter was laying on the ground of the cereal aisle of the grocery store refusing to move without screaming and kicking. She wanted just to be held. Not a simple request. Ever tried to hold a toddler who is tall for her age while pushing a huge cart, while being pregnant? It ain’t gonna happen. It’s just not.
Anyways, so as I am trying to wrangle a flailing child, I am also simultaneously trying not to pass out as bending over now cuts off a considerable amount of oxygen. Things were turning white and I had to hold onto the cart for dear life. I am sure it was a sight to see.
Once I regained a certain amount of consciousness we left the full cart in the middle of the cereal aisle and went outside for a little “talk”. After we signed the blackberries-snack-in-return-for-walking-like-a-good-girl treaty of 2012, we re-entered the store. I was tense but just happy she was walking on her own so I could get the diapers we desperately needed before we got the heck out of there. Speaking of diapers, right about then was when I noticed her diaper was so full (ew) it kept falling off. Poor kid was walking with a 10lb diaper around her ankles. Like little prison ankle chains but much grosser. I, being mom of the year already at this point, had forgotten to bring an extra diaper. So it was gross or nothing. Eventually we finally made it out of the store.
I cried in the car. I cried on the way home. And when I got home. And a little while later. And probably again in about an hour.
I am tired. It’s hard to fight your kid constantly. You question your parenting decisions and your sanity. It tests your patience in ways you never thought possible. I am also hormonal (yay pregnancy!) so not only am I crying over random things like cheese but that also means that I can’t stop crying over important things like “why won’t my kid stop screaming at me?!”
Chocolate and Pepsi have soothed my nerves for a little while. But don’t look now but here comes her bedtime…lately known as the witching hour…or when the evil emerges from the cute thing.
I am thankful I have a husband to help. If I didn’t, I would probably be putting the postage on the box to Mexico as we speak.