When I Was a Parenting Expert

Before I had children, I was a parenting expert. 

My future children were perfect--obedient, kind, silly, brilliant, clean, and wonderful eaters.  They never walked around with boogers crusted over half of their face.  They quickly and quietly gave up both diapers and pacifiers at age 2.  They were adventurous eaters; their favorite foods were things like almond encrusted salmon, green beans, and brussel sprouts.  They never stole toys from other kids, rather, from birth they were able to speak in full sentences and able to resolve all conflicts with their stellar vocabulary and winning smiles.  They always listened to me and were masters at "first time" obedience.  They never went limp in parking lots of grocery stores but skipped happily alongside me with blue birds on their shoulders.

Umm....not so much.


In reality, there are times when I am talking to my children and it is as if the wind is blowing.  Days when I feel like all I do is enforce consequences.  Disobey, consequence, repent, pray, hug.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Every ten minutes.  For the same frickin' thing.

In reality, I have found that weaning your child off of methadone to be far easier than taking away their passie.  Just when I think we've left the passie in the crib for nighttime, she finds another one.  Probably from behind the toilet.  Or I'm having to give it to her because she insists while teething to shove her entire hand down her throat, thus causing some type of teething induced bulimia.

In reality, I had to drag Grace, who was kicking and screaming AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS!!! all the way across the movie theater lobby.  She was mad at me because I would not let her unfurl the roll of toilet paper in the bathroom and I swatted her hand away as she attempted to play in the stream of her brother's urine. 

In reality, Grace has been told that hands are for hugging not for hitting so many times that she now immediately hugs Henry after hitting him. 

In reality, Gracie prefers to eat only meat and carbs.  And not even those all the time.  She has missed so many meals because I refuse to be a short order cook that it is no wonder why she only has one roll left in her thighs.   Also, I don't take kindly to a plate of food being thrown in my face.  She did that at lunch today and so went down for her afternoon nap an hour early because Momma doesn't play that game.  Not when there is an empty crib upstairs full of all the wrong stuffed animals.

Oh, and did I mention that all of the loveys have been lost?  LaLa, our very favorite pink poodle lovey, jumped the stroller at the watermelon festival.  So she commandeered her back up lamb lovey and her brother's old blue lamb lovey.  But she lets me know that they are not LaLa.  They are simply Lovey.  And I'm not even sure where those are now at this point.  So yes, I just spent $40 on ebay for "A Pair and a Spare" set of pink poodle loveys.  Perhaps if we have three LaLas we will be able to locate one of them. 

Don't get me wrong, when Grace is sweet, she is sticky sweet like grocery store birthday cake icing.  But, boy oh boy.  When she is mad,  she is freakin' mad.  Do not poke the bear.  While she is comforted by song, you'd best hope you don't pick the wrong song to sing.  Guaranteed hits are the ABC song and Amazing Grace.  If you try to sing "You are My Sunshine" she will quickly remind you that, no, she is your little gale force wind.

I barely remember this stage with Henry.  His terrible twos were different as his temperament is much more even keeled and less demanding.  Gracie is just like me.  Which is to say she is loud, hates being told no, and can make you miserable if you cross her. 

But also, she could be possessed by some sort of two year old demon.   The verdict is still out.  The only thing I know for sure now in terms of parenting is that at some point in time we may need to call an exorcist.