No matter what you say, it's a shitty job.

When you become a mother, there are hundreds of things that no one warned you about.  The bleeding nipples, the constant worrying, how you can both love and want to strangle your child at the same time.  For me, ALL OF MOTHERHOOD was a shock because I never really paid attention when people with kids talked before. 

But the thing that I am finding the most surprising, or perhaps the most difficult to deal with is that it has made very clear exactly what my mother did right.  Lately though, it is becoming more and more obvious what she did wrong.  Not that I didn't already go through therapy for a hundred years and deal with all my Mommy blame issues.  Up until recently, I really thought I had forgiven her.  I had decided that I was going to just use what I knew to not make the same mistakes with my child.   And I do a really good job of providing Lila with structure where I had none.

There are plenty of things that I already knew about my mother.  My mother (just like I do) suffered from a debilitating depression through most of my childhood.  Because of this, she had little patience for my greedy desire for attention and would disappear at night to see her friends to be someone else for a few hours and forget her problems.  The depression also made it hard for her to commit me to anything.  No instrument lessons or dance or extra-curricular activities because committing me meant a commitment for her. I also know that she never pushed me, never gave me chores, never taught me to sat goals, never gave me boundaries.  I always just slid by.  I was smart.  I was pretty.  I was a kid and didn't know that I was lacking life skills because I was always able to talk myself out of any setback. 

As a mother suffering from depression, I often find that I am too overwhelmed or exhausted to hear another whiny plea for a toy.  I desperately want to just give in and let Lila watch TV all day and eat whatever the hell she wants because it is REALLY FUCKING HARD to sit there any listen to her cry when I ask her to do the things she needs to do.  But I don't.  Because my job as a parent doesn't allow me to.  And as much as I want to take a handful of Xanax and walk away sometimes, I CAN'T.  I understand the avoidance and withdrawal that my mother needed in order to preserve what little energy her illness left her with each day.  I understand how much easier it would be to just decide I don't really care and just give in.  It is easier to see your child happy than unhappy.  I forgive her for feeling that way.  Because I feel that way every day.

My mother is long recovered from her depression.  She found medication that keeps the worst of it away and has worked out some of her own demons with a therapist.  But here's the thing.  As my child's daycare provider, the person who Lila spends several hours each day, my mother STILL does all these things.  And it fucking infuriates me.

All the things that I demand of my child, all the ways that I try to mould her into a well-behaved, appreciative, cooperative kid is undone every single day.  It seems that each time I pick her up, there is some argument with my mother because she has again disregarded my wishes and given something or allowed Lila to do something I have told her not to.

For example, (and believe me, this is just one) Lila was getting stomach aches.  It occurred to me that she ate grilled cheese sandwiches a lot and those give ME stomach aches.  So I told my mother not to give her any for the entire week to see if she still has stomach aches.  And what did Lila have for lunch THE DAY AFTER I told my mother this?  A MOTHERFUCKING GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH.  And when I asked my mother why the hell she gave Lila a grilled cheese sandwich, she shrugged and said, "that's what she wanted for lunch."  I often have to remind my mother that Lila is 4.  She wants an elevator in her bedroom closet and wants to get a pet Lion.  Four year olds are not allowed to make every decision in their lives.  That's why they need babysitters.

Of course, my mother maintains that she does these kinds of things because she is a GRANDMOTHER and that grandmothers are supposed to spoil their grand kids, which would be fine if Lila went over there once a month.  But that's not even the point.  Little things like this only remind me of why as an adult, I have such a hard time with moderation and why I am  (illogically) crushed if I cannot get people to give me the things I want. 

I have posted a few blogs about my mother spoiling Lila, and you will find plenty of examples here,
here, and also here of how my mother refuses to listen to me with regard to how I choose to raise my child.  In her mind, I turned out just fine and so she must have done things right.  BUT I DID NOT TURN OUT FINE!!!  I am selfish (I was given whatever I asked for), I am lazy and unmotivated (there was never an incentive for doing anything or a punishment for not doing it) , I am very smart but cannot finish anything (no one ever made sure I did)  and I have always been an underachiever (how do you push yourself if no one ever pushed you to do ANYTHING you said you didn't want to do?).  Additionally, it never clicked that other people actually SET GOALS for the things they wanted to do and worked toward them until I was 26.  I always just had things "happen" to me.  Don't even get me started about money problems (my parents' view of money and credit are seriously fucking ridiculous - my mother believes in signing up for every credit card that she possibly can, and then maxing them out and making the minimum payments because "I won't be around that long anyway.  I might as well get the things I want now before I'm dead.  NO I AM NOT JOKING). 

(I have already posted about how shitty I am as an adult HERE)

I KNOW that she gave these things to me. I blame her because my father just went along with whatever my mother said.  And at some point in my mid-twenties, I realized that it was no longer her responsibility and it was up to me to try to change these deficiencies.  And I really thought I had forgiven her because when I became a mother (and subsequently a mother with depression), I UNDERSTOOD why she did the things she did. 

But I look at myself with Lila and I can't help but to be angry at my mother.  Because I don't want to have to instill those things in her.  I don't have any idea how to, because I suck at them myself.  In fact,  I want to be left the hell alone most of the time.  But I know what I have to do.  This isn't some transcendental knowledge or wisdom that I have.  This is what fucking parenting is.  It is all about responsibility.  It is about loving someone enough to do what they NEED even of they fucking hate you for it.  It is filled with difficulty and discomfort and headaches and insanity.  But that's all just the basic part of the job.

Why did she do what was easy with me?  And why does she refuse to listen when I try to tell her that love is not just buying Lila toys and letting her throw several blobs of raw cookie dough at the ceiling so she can laugh when it sticks (nope, not kidding about that either).  It is about setting limits so that she knows what to expect.  It is about making sure she is getting the foods she needs to grow and learn and feel good. It is about telling her that you will not tolerate bad behavior because you don't want her to grow up to be a total asshole.  She does not understand this.  She says she does, but she reverts to the things that I described the next day. 

This makes me feel disappointed in her.  I am disappointed that she didn't do better with me.  I am disappointed that she never bothered.  I am disappointed that she thinks love is about temporary happiness, even if it destroys the future potential.  I am just so fucking sad about it. 

Needs Work.

Ben is a General Contractor.

I know what you're thinking:  Well, that sure does explain his shitty attitude and unreliability.  But actually, he really is one of the only honest contractors I have ever met. In fact, he has a problem because he is too nice and generous and has a habit of doing extra work for no charge and because of that we are always broke.

But I don't want to talk about his (lack of) business sense.  I want to tell you about my house.

Whenever Ben finishes a big job like a kitchen remodel or building a new porch, he likes to take pictures so that he can use them in a portfolio to show potential clients.  These projects are always flawless, and clean and beautiful. 

Like this.  Although this is not actually one of his..
This is a random internet pic.

We bought an abandoned house last year really cheap.  Because Ben is a contractor, he did all the work on it to make it livable.  In fact, since our lease was running out and our landlord REFUSED to give us another month, he did all the work on the house in about 5 weeks.  He worked morning until night, 7 days a week and when we moved in, the house was ALMOST done.  There were just a bunch of little things that needed to be finished up.  Things like moulding along the floor, touch-up paint, doors needing door knobs - things like that.  And because he had essentially BUILT a house from rubble, I ignored it and figured it would get done.

The thing is, none of that shit is done, 15 months later.  Do you know why?  Because for some infuriating reason, whenever Ben does work around OUR house, he leaves it half done. 

OK.  At least I DO have countertops...But still.

Three months ago, he put a transition piece along the border between the bathroom tile floor and the slightly lower hardwood floor of the hallway.  It took him about 20 minutes to measure, cut and position the piece.  He set it there....and left it.  Now every time I walk out of the bathroom, I kick the thing and it goes flying out into the hallway.  He never bothered to nail it down.  I asked him how much time it takes to nail a piece of wood in place and he told me, "About 30 seconds...a minute if you do it right".  I told him I was getting the hammer and he assured me that he would take care of it because "you don't want the nail to stick up at all."  THIS WAS THREE MONTHS AGO!!!!!

We have a couple of spots on the drywall that were damaged somehow and are going to need touch-up paint.  Last JULY I asked him to get the paint out (because his work area is a labirynth of crap that only he has the magic map to) and I would paint it.  He told me he would take care of it.  Later that day, he applied that plaster crap to it to patch it.  He let it dry and sanded it down.  I had a pile of white dust on the floor for 4 days before I finally gave in and swept it up.  The white patch is still there.  He told me it still needs another layer...WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

I have attempted to explain to him that it offends me that when he does jobs at other people's houses he actually finishes up, then cleans and leaves the place looking like something from an HGTV room makeover show, but our house looks like someone randomly pieced it together and then forgot about it.

Another (visual) example:

We have plans to get siding in the spring.  The house is an ugly green and looks as if it hasn't been painted in at least 20 years.  Also, we kind of have to because the house is drafty and cold even with new windows and weatherproofing.  There are gaps in the old wood slats and that makes the walls super cold and covering it will make it better (or at least I am told).  While I was out the other day, Ben decided that he was going to fill in some of the worst gaps with "a little caulk".  This is what the side of our house looks like now:

Yes,I ran outside in the cold to take this picture just now.
  And we live on a corner.  This side faces the street.

SERIOUSLY, BEN?  REALLY???

"Would you EVER do that to someone else's house?"  He shrugged.

"Then WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO IT TO OUR HOUSE?  Don't you care AT ALL what this house looks like?" 

"Not really."  He admitted.  "It's going to get sided and then it will look really nice.  EVENTUALLY it will look good." 

Did I mention that the house was SUPPOSED to be sided and have a new roof put on over the past summer but (and I am quoting here) Ben "just didn't get around to it."  Now, maybe it's just me but I would think that a job as large as siding a house is something you PLAN, in advance.  And maybe schedule.  With some help.  (Now that I am typing this, I am concerned that my house will he half sided for the next 10 years.)

That's awesome.  Because I love having a hillbilly shack to be proud of.  Don't even get me started about the shit he keeps in our yard.

We're just one boat and a missing roof tile away from this...

And it isn't that I don't try to help or do the work myself.  He won't let me.  He says I don't know what I am doing.  Because CLEARLY, it takes a professional to stick a door knob on.

Am I over-reacting?  What do you think?

Ba-Ba Blues?

What the hell is it with the older women and their total refusal to allow modern moms to do what we think is best for our kids?

Yesterday I was at a family barbeque (and I won't even get into the thrilling experience that I had) and was talking to my aunt, whose first grandchild has just turned one.  She and her son were discussing the bottle and the aunt was APPALLED at the idea that he would even THINK of taking the bottle away from her at a mere 1 year old.  She defended her stance saying that the pediatrician said "15 months at the latest for a bottle, 18 months for a pacifier."  She acted like it was flat-out child abuse to even consider depriving a kid of a ba-ba so "young".

"Once you pop you can't stop," says Grandma.

This is not the first time I have encountered this kind of outrage from an older woman in my family.  My mother completely lost her shit when I suggested that Lila was not supposed to have a bottle to go to sleep since that is what parents had done for 50 years previous.  She told me that this was basically the cause of all the problems I had with Lila's infancy and that if I just gave in all those problems would disappear. 

I finally DID give in.  And guess what, a year later when Lila was 2 and still wanting a bottle to go to sleep my mother acted like I was talking about murder when I suggested that it was time to stop.  Even though the doctor had told me to do it a year before.  Even though every parenting book ON EARTH says that they shouldn't have a bottle to go to sleep, my mother thought it was simply cruel. 

Believe me when I say that it was one of the worst transitions I have ever had to make.  Lila was never a good sleeper to begin with and this just made her worse.

All that being said, why do these women think that we modern mothers are so mean and cruel for trying to do exactly what all the pros tell us we need to do?  Are they offended that their way may have been wrong? Or is it actually mean to take a comfort item from a baby?  Are we no good at going with our guts or is it just a matter of them trying to keep the babies as babies for as long as possible?

What do you guys think?

Parenting Fail?

Am I a terrible mom?  I try to stay on top of things.  I want my kid to eat well and get enough sleep and say please and thank you.  I want her to be smart and capable and independent and well-behaved.  And so far I have failed at all but the part about her being smart (assed) and independednt (3 going on 13). 

In trying to come to terms with just how to handle this problem of Lila being the sassiest little bitch on earth (yeah, I said it), the only thing I can come up with is that I am just too fucking tired to discipline her EVERY SINGLE TIME (which would literally be about 3 times per minute) that she does something that pisses me off. 

My kid yells at me.  She throws things and she refuses to eat.  Then she throws a huge asshole fit about the fact that she doesn't get any snacks because she refused to eat what I put in front of her (No, I don't give in and she still does not GET it). She refuses to poop on the toilet still and when I refused to buy any more pull ups, she held it for 4 days until it was so painful for her (even with the laxative) that she will probably never want to shit on the toilet again (thanks to the doctor for that award-winning advice).  She acts like an animal when we go to a store.  She manipulates me by crying and telling me she hates me (remind you, she is not a teenager - she's 3). 

In between the 3 minute hugs and the 2 and a half moments of happiness is all this SHIT.

I am at my wits end.  And all I can do is blog about it. 

Fucking kid.

Throwing fits like an asshole.

I am the Mommy.  I am in charge.  I do not put up with the kid's tantrums.  I will send her little ass to bed.  But I seriously DREAD having to tell her to do anything because I just don't want the fight.  And that little asshole totally knows it. 

Everyone tells me that if I am firm and don't react too much to it, it will stop but since I became determined not to yell and scream and freak out at her, the anger is just building and I fear that I am going to slap her.  She is such a little bitch sometimes.

Tonight I made Daddy deal with it.

Because Kids Can Be Assholes Too.

I really enjoy my days off.  Thoroughly.  I like sitting at home.  I like watching TV.  I like spending quiet peaceful time doing nothing and maybe even taking a shower.  But my one weekday each week that I don't work I spend with Lila. And in order to keep from losing my mind, I try to find something to do that she will enjoy that doesn't involve me sitting on the couch with the inter-webs open all day.

Lila loves books and the library and she knows everyone who works at the small branch library near our house so she is always thrilled when I tell her we are going to go to story time.  Yesterday, when I asked her if she wanted to go, she was all thrilled and excited and sang a song about how she was going to pick out some books and hang out with Mrs. Barbara, the story time librarian.  I told her what time it started and what time I would be getting her dressed.  I gave her a five minute warning so that she would be "finished" playing. 

About 30 minutes before the start of story time I called upstairs to her.  "Lila, it's time to come on down so we can get ready to go."  I got no answer.  So I went upstairs.  She was in her room playing with her dollhouse and I called her name.  She ignored me.  So I turned around and said, "well, we don't HAVE to go to story time.  We can stay here and you can play if you want to." 

It seemed innocent enough but she lost her mind at this.  First she started whining.  When I told her to stop whining she started to scream and throw a fit.  I talked calmly to her explaining that story time is starting at 10 am whether we are there or not, so if we want to go we have to get ready to go NOW.  She started her wild flailing around screaming "I DON'T WANT TO GET READY RIGHT NOW!" to which I simply said, "Fine, Lila.  You can stay here and throw a fit then.  Let me know when you're done."  She was kicking ans screaming and throwing herself on the floor.  Then she hit her head on her dresser and started crying, so I went back in and attempted to calm her down.  We talked again, and again I explained that if she wants to go to story time she needed to get dressed and we had to get going.  I explained that this was her CHOICE to either stay and play OR get ready and go to story time.  She simply said, "NO".  At least three times, I attempted to calm her down and explain the situation, but each time I only got more attitude and sass. 

She was getting more and more upset and I was getting more and more frustrated.  I realized that the best thing to do was to put her in her room, close the door and walk away.  So I did.  She came out screaming (tantrum-ing) and I told her to get her ass back into her room because I was getting angry, but she started screaming, "I WANT TO GO TO STORY TIME NOW!!!" over and over and over. 

"That little asshole," I thought.  "I'm taking HER somewhere where SHE wants going to have fun.  What the hell am I fighting with her for?  She totally doesn't understand that this is something I couldn't care less about.  And yet, she is creating this fucking scene and I am falling for it.  And I am a terrible parent because I have no idea how to handle the situation and show her that I am the mother and I am only doing this FOR HER..."

So I lost it.  I started yelling at her that she was being a total brat and there was no way I was taking her to story time now that she was behaving so badly.  She cried and cried and cried and screamed and threw a fit, and somehow all of this seemed too much for me so I went into my bedroom, slammed the door, and the floodgates opened and I found myself sobbing.  "We're not fucking going and it's NOT my fault," I cried to myself.  Somehow I felt guilty that I couldn't control her and keep it together and just make it possible to get her dressed to take her to story time. 

After a few minutes, I heard my door creak open.  I hadn't noticed that she had stopped crying and was listening to me.  She crept in and I tried to dry my face.  But she knew.  I turned to look at her and saw her panic stricken and scared and then that expression changed and she said, "you're making me cry..." and she started crying and hugging me. 

So in the aftermath, I explained to her that from this point on, if we are going to do something fun and she throws a fit and doesn't listen, we simply will not do it.  But I swear, spanking or slapping would probably work better.  When I was a kid, if I ever acted like that, I would have been slapped in the mouth and then I would have knocked that shit off after a minute or two and we could get the hell on with our plans.  Why is parenting such bullshit nowadays?  And why do I feel it's necessary to take her anywhere if she is such an asshole about it?

That little BITCH!!!

My three year old is a little bitch.  I am not saying this to be funny.  This is not something I am proud of.  But she is. 

I have noticed her talking back and demanding things for some time now.  For the most part, I stay calm and basically explain that 1) There is NO WAY I am going to give her what she wants if she is going to be a brat about it, and 2) Just because she decides to ask again, with the sad eyes and a whiney voice and gives me a great big "PLEEEEEEEEASE" doesn't mean she will get what she wants.  This method is not working. 

Lila is turning into a total bitch.  When I am driving somewhere she wants to go and I (God Forbid) stop at a red light, she sees it as her place to yell "GO MOMMY!" at the top of her lungs, as if I am just trying to keep her from having a good time.  Time after time I turn around and tell her "I am the driver.  I am the Mommy.  I decide when to go."  This method is not working.

I (half) jokingly told her father that she was getting to that age where I should strap her to the couch and play Mommie Dearest for her so she could see what happens when mommies are pushed to their emotional limits and they think their kids are ingrateful little brats. (Of course, I realize that this is not the intended moral of the movie, but in light of the fact that time-outs are a joke and she doesn't care when I take things away or with -hold treats, I think it may work as an effective tool in scaring the sass out of my kid).


Yesterday we went to Wal-Mart (I will not digress into how much I hate Wal-Mart and everything it stands for and everyone in it) and we were trying to hurry.  First there was the hissy fit when I said we couldn't buy a $40 Play-Doh set.  Then there was the refusing to hold my hand and running off.  Then there was the refusal to leave.  I kept cool.  There was NO WAY I was going to be that trashy mother yelling at her kid in the shampoo aisle at the Wal Mart.  When we finally got out to the car, she insisted on climbing into her car seat herself.  And I thought, "she's three...she needs to feel like she can do it herself," even though I was in a hurry to get to the bank before it closed.  She got into the seat and I started to buckle her in and she said, "I wanna do it."  "No baby," I replied.  This is pretty hard to do and I just want to get out of here, okay?"  The response she gave me took me off guard at first:

"I WILL DO IT NOW MOMMY!!!"

I felt the surging desire to slap her little mouth like my mother would do when I got overly sassy.  I wanted to...I really, for about half a second thought that it would be the best thing I could do...Maybe it was just the fact that I was in the Wal Mart parking lot, but I felt like swearing at her at the top of my lungs and slapping her.

But I didn't.  I put my hands on both sides of her face so she was looking right at me and said, as lovingly as I could at that moment, "If you talk to me like that again, I will slap your little sassy mouth."  Perhaps threatening isn't much better than the actual thing, but she sure was quiet on the ride home.  I almost think that THIS method may have worked. 

For the record, I have never hit her.  Never spanked or slapped or grabbed her roughly by the arm (or ear).  I have a good handle on my temper and I know I would never forgive myself.  But there are times when I can see myself doing it, in my mind, clear as day, and I wonder if perhaps spanking couldn't work on certain types of kids (the crazy ones).   Because as much as I want Lila to be an independent and happy kid, I want her to be respectful and polite just as much.  Not just because it makes ME insane, but because she needs to know that you have to be courteous and nice to function in a society with other people.

If I were to be completely honest, I would have to admit that she probably gets the attitude from me.  I raise my voice a lot.  And I find myself saying those dreaded words that every parent swears they will never say: 

"Because I'm the MOMMY, that's why."

And for now, that's the only thing that kid needs to understand.  Because being a super bitch in our house is MY job.

You can dress them up, but you can't take them out.

Ben believes in "family time". He is big on going out on adventures and taking the kid and bonding or whatever. Every weekend, rather than stay at home and sleep (my preferred way to spend a Sunday) Ben wants to go out somewhere to some park or event or kid-friendly venue to "have some fun" together. But it's never actually any fun.

The idea of this is not entirely familiar to me. My parents learned really early that when you take a small child out to do something, it is hardly ever actually for their enjoyment and almost always for yours. So they stopped taking me to Chuck E Cheese and started just letting me tag along when they went to cookouts and bar hopping. And I didn't know the difference. I thought it was awesome that everyone would give me quarters for the video games and let me raise hell inside the house while the adults got drunk in the backyard. To me, that was family time.

Ben on the other hand had a mother who took him places. Fun places. Ben went to Disney World. And to gigantic amusement parks and to Hawaii. Ben has all these great memories that he wants Lila to have. And to a point, I think it's nice and all. But here's the thing...

Lila is just about 3. First off, I don't think she is going to remember whether we went to the zoo or sat in the backyard and threw rocks at squirrels. She will most likely only remember the way we traumatized her when we made her sit on the potty at the restaurant and the auto-flush went off and (literally) scared the piss out of her.

But even more importantly, going anywhere with this kid requires a lot of planning and a lot of patience. We have to go early enough so that she isn't grumpy and tired but late enough so that she can have a decent breakfast. We have to bring things to amuse her but not the same things we brought last time. We have to make sure we are going somewhere close enough that if she has another "potty" incident, we can get home in time to not have her pooping in her pants. And the truth is, it's stressful.

And what do we usually seem to get for all the stress of making this wonderful outing for our 3-year old? A screaming miserable brat. Any time we plan to take her somewhere that is specifically a kid place, she is a total asshole the entire time. I hate carnivals. But Ben insisted that we take her. And what did she do? She cried because she was tired. She cried because they only had Sprite and not orange soda. She cried because she needed to be a full 4 inches taller to ride on one of the rides and then screamed because she was terrified on one of the kiddie rides.

Even when we do things that are supposed to be "fun for the whole family" it isn't any fun. We went to the beach last weekend. Previous to Lila, the beach was one of my favorite things to do. Its hot and sunny and I can people watch and read and just relax. But there is absolutely NOTHING relaxing about going to the beach with a 3 year old. Besides the 2 trips from the car we had to make because we needed to bring enough toys, food, and drinks to keep her content for a few hours, I barely got to sit down because she likes to run in the sand. Ben took her in the water and the entire time I had to watch because I quite frankly don't trust that he wouldn't let her out of his site just long enough for her to be a subject of a "human chain" (which, by the way I cannot believe they still do. I have NEVER heard a story about the human chain kicking someone under the water). Between the crying to go into the water, the crying because the water is too cold, the crying because the sand castle wouldn't stand up and the crying because we tried to help her with her sand castle, I wanted to walk straight into the water with rocks in my pockets and just keep on going...

Ben says he wants to have nice memories with her. He says he wants her to have these nice memories and to have a better childhood than I did. And although I highly doubt I will be taking Lila to any bars in the near future (it was a different time then), I still don't see the point of taking the kid out anywhere if she is going to be just as miserable as she is at home bored.

I hope this changes as she gets older because I am ready to just quit the fucking family outings in favor of "family chore day" and "family watch TV day" every weekend.

I thought it would suck less....WRONG.

Lila is almost 3. I have had it with the whining. Somewhere, somehow, Lila got the idea that any time she is even remotely displeased with anything all she has to do is whine continually and magic will happen and she will have whatever it is. (Actually, she got this idea from spending too much time at Grandma's but that's another blog).

Lila's whining voice is exactly the same sound as nails on a chalkboard....into an amplifier...with feedback screeching in the background. Plus, she managed to inherit my loud Italian projecting voice and uses that along with her remarkable whiny pitch to make me insane. At not quite 3 years old, she has absolutely no ability to be reasoned with and has a temper like a rattlesnake. She can be perfectly happy one minute and writhing on the ground like a mental patient the next. And it seems there is NOTHING I can do about this.

I have tried telling her "Mommy can't understand you when you use that whining voice." I have tried time outs (which she seems to think is kind of fun because she has to try to sit still for an unspecified amount of time). Often, I have to put her in her bed and shut the door and tell her she can come out when she's done being a brat. Usually after about 10 minutes she walks out all smiles and says "I'm done crying mommy." But it never lasts for more than a few minutes.

Sometimes she talks to me like I talk to her saying "COME...IN...HERE...NOOOOOW
...MOMMY!!!!! And I get to feel guilty because she learned to talk to people like that from me.

I have no idea what to do with this whiny brat that my kid has become. She is stubborn, as I know kids her age are supposed to be. But I feel like I spend so much time yelling at her and forcing her to "calm down" that I can't enjoy her. I am afraid she thinks I don't love her.

Wasn't it supposed to get easier when they started to become little "people"?

Dining-in, forever.

It's not very often that Ben and I feel brave enough to take Lila out to eat. But occasionally, insanity strikes and we decide that it may be okay.

Yesterday was Fathers day and Lila and I went to breakfast with Daddy. We chose a hole in the wall little diner thinking that if nothing else it would be quick and quick is good when you have a kid that only sits still for about 15 minutes. It was trouble immediately. We should never have gone. Lila woke up extra early which meant she was extra tired and grumpy and by the time we arrived at the diner she was already fighting us about our choice of music in the car ("Duck song! Duck song!" she yelled over Led Zepplin).

We alowed her to sit in a big girl seat (booster) instead of the high chair and for about 45 seconds that was thrilling. Then the whining started. Then the yelling. We are not barbarians, we have established rules and for several minutes I tried to ask her "What do we do when we go out to the store?" "NO yelling, No running, no screaming," she reported back to me. "Then why are you yelling?" "NO MOMMY!!!!" She relplied and then let out a mind blowing shrill scream.

The waitress saw our struggle and brought over a big box of crayons and a coloring book which appeared to save the day...For the moment. We ordered our food, and Lila sat contentedly coloring until the food came. She actually ate like 7 bites and then decided that good-girl-time was over. Nothing could get her to stop the yelling and screaming and whining until finally, half-way through my meal, I picked her up and took her out to the car and Ben got our remaining breakfasts to go.

Here's my question...What's worse? Being that parent who yells at their kids in public or being the one that tries to talk to them in public? Either way, people look at you like you are doing it all wrong. I would love to be the kind of parent who just throws Lila a look and she KNOWS that it's time to knock it off. But instead, I try to talk to her. No negotiation. No pleading. Just simple "Stop it." But when she doesnt listen, and I am sitting there and everyone is being made to listen to my kid yell at me, all I want to do is be that parent who nobly stands up to her 2-year-old and says, "I AM NOT TAKING THIS ANYMORE," and have her understand that I mean business.

Since I dont spank her, I am left to wonder (along with Lila) what "meaning business" actually means. Leaving is often what she wants so to get up and leave isn't really a punishment. And sitting there isn't necessarily an option.

Sometimes, like yesterday, I sit there with my head in my hands and think, "I hate being a mother."

Sugar and the meaning of insanity

My mother likes to load Lila up with sugar when she babysits her. The other night, Lila came home and I swear I thought someone had slipped her some Methamphetamine. It was not pleasant.

If you have never been in the presence of a kid wound up in this manner, I will take you through it now.

First, the mania. Lila ran and ran and ran and ran and the whole time was babbling and talking about god knows what at a volume that would rival the best of the Arena Rock shows from the 80's, complete with the screaming and some head banging. It was about 45 minutes of "Mommy...MAMA...MAMA...MOMMY...MOMMY....MOM....MAMA!!!!!! All of this was punctuated by little trips or falls where she would have a total nervous breakdown and scream and pound her face into the floor/wall/chairs and then, suddenly, jump back up and laugh maniacally and run some more.

It was getting close to dinner time and although I KNEW that she wasn't going to sit in her chair to eat, Ben insisted that we try. See, here's another thing I never understood until I had my own spawn: If your kid doesn't eat dinner, she doesn't sleep well because she is hungry. So you will do anything to get a few good helpings of mashed potatoes into the mouth because it is the difference between a rough night and a decent nights sleep. Lila threw her food at us. LAUNCHED her bowl onto the ground and screamed in a way that I held my glass of soda afraid that it might shatter.

Ben put her into bed. She jumped and yelled and screamed and in fact, we decided that she was having more fun in there than she had been having running around. Some disciplinarians we were turning out to be.

Finally, she crashed. We put her in the tub, kicking and screaming, and by the time bath time was over she could barely keep her eyes open for her story.

And she slept! My kid still wakes up most nights, but this time she slept so deeply that I had to check on her in the morning because it was freaking me out.

Note to Grandma: NO SUGAR AFTER 2PM because I don't want to deal with that shit ever again!

Terrible One and a Halfs

December 14, 2008 - Sunday

Now that Lila is spending a considerable amount of time with her Grandma and Ben because I am working, I no longer have 24 hour control over her. I am finding that my kid is turning into that asshole kid that I was absolutely adamant not to have.

We went to the grocery store yesterday and as I saw all the other young children sitting quietly in their prospective shopping carts, my kid proceeded to scream, kick, cry and grab at every item that came within 3 feet of her. She yelled for balloons, for meat, to get down and even for the signs hanging from the ceiling demanding to me, "GO GET".

The reason my kid behaves like that is NOT just because she is at that age. The reason that my kid is like that is because all the other adults in her life seem to think that the best way to get her to behave in the grocery store (or Target, or at the mall) is to give her whatever she asks for to play with, and Ben even lets her get out of the cart and run around. I mostly blame ben.

I dont believe I need to explain to you all why this is not okay. But apparnetly Ben doesn't see the danger of a kid who will suddenly be old enough to out run him, or grab things off the shelf and break them, or get hurt in an insanely busy grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. Ben also doesn't see why she can't play with pennies (choking factor) chew on crayons (he says they're non-toxic) or climb up our bookcase (it's anchored to the wall after all). Ben cannot conceive that what he is doing is laying the groundwork for how she is going to act in the future. She will not behave out in public. She will run around with crayons, pencils, pens, in her mouth and fall and stab her brain. She will think it is okay to climb up on anything and pull something onto her.

Maybe it's a dad thing. Maybe it's only mothers who foresee the worst possible outcome and decide that they must protect the kid at all costs, even if it means that they cry and beg to do what they want. Perhaps dads cannot think far enough ahead to predict that she is going to be an asshole who has no boundaries. Maybe this is normal. Maybe I need to quit my job (which I love) and go back to being the 24 hour gate keeper so that she can know that there are rules and that she cannot under any circumstances do whatever she wants. Because although I have told both Grandma and Ben what the rules need to be, I am finding that they both subsccribe to the "just keep her happy" method of childcare with no regard to the fact that at her age she should not be deciding what the rules are.

I want to have a polite, functional and NORMAL kid. I want her to know what is and is not allowed. Even if she has to test the limits to learn this. Even if she has to throw tantrums and cry and think it's the end of the world because she can't have a balloon. Because what I do know is that when my kid turns out to be that asshole, no one is going to say "It's her Dad's (or Grandma's) fault for spoiling her." The concensus will be that Lila's mother did a shitty job of raising her.

Shit. My kid is turning into an asshole.

On a seperate and totally unrelated note:
My parents have officially moved out of my childhood home. Ther neighborhood has long been on the decline and they had to get out of there as stabbings and armed home invasions were becoming the regular around there. They purchased a nice 2 family house with my aunt and uncle in Solvay. My mom loves it.

Here's the thing. somehow I am so emotionally retarded that I cannot actually acknowledge it in real life. In the several weeks leading up to the move, I never once mentioned it. I never wanted to go see the new house. I wouldnt even offer to leave work early to pick up Lila in the days leading up to the move so that my mom could pack, simply because I would have to acknowledge it. Yesterday Ben helped them move. I was going to stop by to see how it was going and maybe help out a little, but I got half way there and decided that I could not bear to see my old room empty. So I went home. I know that I should go to my mom's new house and help out however I can. Maybe bring over dinner. I know that's what a grown up would do. But I just can't emotionally deal. It's ridiculous, I know.