Surviving my toddler

This toddler thing is no joke my friends. This week has pretty much been spent in various earnest endeavours to survive mothering my darling little Ellabeth with a shred of sanity intact. I’m not sure what is going on with her, but she has been a Handful. With the capital H.
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When I put piggies in earlier this week I decided they distinctly resembled horns. I left them in though. I felt they were appropriate.
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I posted this on facebook earlier this week: source
Yep. Pretty much. It’s been like having a tiny teenager in the house in that she holds me and all of my stupid ideas on how I think she should live her life, in utmost disdain. Except she is a lot more vocal than a teenager, and does not like to sleep.
Other Things Ellabeth Does Not Like:
1. To Eat
2.To Have Her Diaper Changed
3. To Be Put Down
4. To Have ball point pens/glasses/magnets/important papers/laptaps/iPhones/remote controls/anything dangerous or destructive taken away from her
5.To Drink a Bottle/out of a Cup
6. Be Strapped In Her car-seat
7.Be Strapped Into Her Stroller
8. Be Strapped Into Her High-Chair
9. Have Her Face or Hands Wiped
10. Be Told “No”
11. Ellabeth Also Does Not Like Me To: go to the toilet, take a shower, change my clothing, put on my make up, do my hair, eat food, talk on the phone, type on the computer, exercise,do any type of housework, be productive in any way, rest.
I think we have a variety of problems here. She is teething, she is thus tired and hungry, she is coming off of a week of fun and games (Spring break with siblings around, and now left with boring stupid old mom). Also, she is a toddler. I had sort of forgotten about them. Or blocked it out.
Today, in an effort to get some exercise in and break up the day, I decided to walk her to story time at the library.  Although there was actually no story time at the library today.  I got the days mixed up. Because that’s how things are this week. I took her out of her stroller and tentatively plopped her on the ground and then sat down next to her.  She has never been out of her stroller at the library before and could not quite believe her good fortune. With a gasp of delight she began to survey her new kingdom.
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Ahhhh…I thought. She is actually going to entertain herself for a few minutes.
Within seconds, the quiet serene library was filled with other toddlers.  They looked big, and terrifying to me.  She smiled at them in delight and waited to be fawned over. But there would be no fawning. They stared at her blankly.  They could tell she had nothing to offer them.  She was not cute to them. She was momentarily taken aback but undeterred.
She bum-scootched after them as they run off in other directions to create mayhem and commit random acts of violence on other toddlers.  She yelled in a friendly, “hey guys, wait for me, I’m so cute! You know?” way but they ignored her studiously, and went about bludgeoning each other with tiny metal trains and slamming each other’s heads in the door of the “castle”.  Then they coughed on each other and wiped their snotty noses in one another’s hair. I sat hunched up on an alphabet rug and felt a familiar, terrifying feeling wash over me.  It was unmistakable. STMA. Social Toddler Mothering Anxiety.  Otherwise known to the Germaphobe, Control Freak Neurotic Mother as: HELL.
Oh my gosh. What had I done!  I was back! Back to this horrid phase of my life that I thought was over forever.  The most hideous phase. Wherein I would have to negotiate the social life of a toddler. When I would have to smile brightly as I tensely monitored my child at the train table. My child who finally had the train their little heart so desperately desired, and was happily cruising it along a piece of track when BAM another kid would slam their pudgy fist over hers and attempt to grab the train. I would have to say, “oh honey, let’s share”. When I would rather say, “listen up kid, my BABY has been waiting for 10 mins for that stupid train, go and play somewhere else. Where is your mom?!”
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I would have to nod mildly and listen to the mom whose kid just hit my kid repeatedly over the head with a wooden farm animal, say distractedly, “gentle touches ok honey?”….”or use your words” or something equally inane, as she browsed books or chatted to a friend when all I would want to do was gather my injured, violated precious angel into my arms and give everyone the death glare.  And the germs! The GERMS.  That’s a whole different story for which I am not strong enough today.
Happily, my dear friend Claire and her gentle, sweet Keira arrived on the scene to save us and we ended up having a very happy injury-free, nap-inducing morning together.
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But alas, I am left with a lingering sense of doom. Toddlerhood and all that it means is well and truly upon us.  There is no denying it.  I’m not sure I’m going to survive it.
There is a glimmer of hope though. I have entertained the notion that unlike my other kids, perhaps Ella will be the bully this time.  That would be refreshing.  This week has given me every reason to think that she has it in her.
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4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Well, you know what the problem is. You just forgot for a moment! You posted on Friday 13th.
Surely that explains all?? Toddlerhood is a short, short time. Much shorter than teenagehood or motherhood. Cowboy up! You can do it!
Marmie.

Tooje said...

I felt like I was there with you at the library, secretly giggling at you however. While I feel like you do, in every instance, you are FAR nicer than I will ever be. I'm bossy, and if another parent's kid is acting inappropriately, I will let the kid know, the parent know, and probably the other parents around us! I just can't help myself.

She is the most adorable horned devil I've ever seen.

Jill said...

I am not exactly sure what you were thinking taking her there to begin with. I'm pretty sure we have talked about this in the past. If you haven't put her in her bubble then she cannot go play with other childre.

DianeSS said...

I am not at all sorry that I am past that phase for good! I had a lovely laugh though, particularly at you closing statements.