The times I yell this remind me of Gavin's two/three/four-year-old phase. I'm sure he thought his name could only be pronounced in a loud, urgent, and irritated tone. Things are swinging that way for the baby in the house, who is making me crazy(er).
I took her shopping this morning. I needed mascara and lip gloss and socks and a belt. Heaven forbid Mom actually buy something for herself, right? Well, Kate hates the shopping cart. She doesn't just whine about sitting in the child seat. No, she screams (loudly, as though I am slowly gnawing off her arm), writhes, and wriggles until she makes it out of the already-tight strap, stands up, and proceeds to climb into the back of the cart. So then I have these options:
1. Literally wrestle her back into the seat, which seems tantamount to child abuse for all the fight she gives, and then the cycle repeats
2. Allow her to ride in the back of the cart, where she climbs out immediately
3. Allow her to hang on either end of the cart, where she drags her feet and threatens to break her leg/arm/head without realizing it
4. Allow her to walk, thus enabling her to hide in the clothing racks, run away when I stop, grab things off the shelves, etc.
Having described this, I honestly can't believe I went to Target after barely surviving Walmart, since Walmart didn't have what I wanted. But I did, and by the time we were done I needed to punch something. Fortunately I do not believe in punching my children, but I did let out a primal scream once we got back to the car. No, I am not Mary Poppins. Sorry to disappoint you.
When we got home, this is what she had done with Lexi's lip gloss, which appeared out of nowhere while I was driving.
While I was helping Gavin (home "sick" today) in the kitchen, Kate went into her room, scaled the dresser drawers, and got a too-small summer dress off the top, where it had been waiting to be given away. Then she climbed back down, changed her clothes, and pronounced herself "pretty." Last time she did that she broke one of the dresser drawers. While I was dealing with that, she went into my closet and dumped out all of my jewelry, neatly organized into compartments in a plastic container hidden (apparently not) on the shelf under my hanging clothes. What a mess.
Her other favorite thing to do, which I have mentioned before, is empty her toys into a great big pile and use the plastic bins as ladders to high places. She doesn't play with the toys anyway, so I just need to get rid of the toys and their containers. I'm resistant because they are fun toys that represent a big financial investment. I'm not sure I can justify keeping them anymore.
Anyway. Kate likes to play with non-toys. Yesterday, while I was sick in bed with a fever and feeling pretty dang miserable, Kate had some fun with our address stamp, which I had used to--gasp--get some bill payments ready to mail earlier in the day. While I admit her stamped mouth looked really funny, I was exasperated.
I feel the same way she looks. I don't (usually) cry like that. However, I didn't sleep well last night (although my fever finally broke about 2:00 a.m.), so I am dealing with her antics very poorly today. This little venting episode has helped me a lot. In fact, I am going to delete the section I have written about other people and their recent lame comments about my children and my parenting.
I do think I might, though, as one friend suggested, buy a leash for Kate. Maybe that would help us at the store the next time I need something absurd like bananas.