Okay, so I may not win any Mother of the Year awards for this statement, but it needs to be said: MY KIDS ARE DRIVING ME INSANE. In fact, it needs to be shouted from the rooftops because nobody seems to be listening and there are days where I feel as though I'm about thisclose from having a nervous breakdown. All I ask for is a break. Ten minutes of my day where I'm not holding a baby while simultaneouly trying to fix dinner, tie a shoe, run the DVD player, answer the phone, pay bills, and take out the trash. A solo trip to the grocery store. A shower that doesn't involve R pulling back the shower curtain to throw Yo Gabba Gabba figures into the tub for me to inevitably step on, or just climbing into the shower herself. Fully clothed. Happened over the weekend btw.
R's latest thing is a hunger strike of sorts. We are locked into a fierce battle of wills, Mommy Vs. Toddler, and so far I think the score is about even. As soon as she wakes in the morning, she asks for a "dink" and a "bite". She even says "pease". It is from this moment on though that things start to go downhill. I offer milk. Fit is thrown. I offer juice. Fit continues. I offer pink milk. Mass hysteria. Hell, one day I offered beer. Not that I would have given her any mind you, but I wouldn't have minded one myself at that point. And what is the root of all this commotion you may wonder? C-A-N-D-Y. I'm so used to spelling it, it feels weird just to write it. Candy. The very word sends my almost-2-year old into such a frenzy that I find myself backing away slowly out of the kitchen, hoping that she'll find someone else to torture about it (namely DH). Where the obsession began, I can't really say. She obviously got some at Halloween and was allowed a piece here or there, but it wasn't as though it was a staple of her diet. Honestly, I did what every mother does and ate the majority of it myself (don't judge, you know you do it too). I guess the latest phase started at Christmas. She got candy in her stocking from Santa, as well as from both grandmas, and thus became a feign of sorts. The candy has long been eaten. It is gone. There is none in the house (well except for my stash of Reese's in the fridge, but she doesn't know about those). Yet the battle continues. At breakfast, at lunch, at dinner, she refuses to eat what I give her. As I cook meals, she stands under the cabinet doing The Candy Dance where she moves her legs back in forth and points while screaming, "Candy! Candy! Candy!" It may sound cute, but it's not. Trust me. Plates are dumped. Food is strewn about her high chair. Tears are shed. I damn the day my toddler ever met an M&M. I keep up the good fight though. It's all I can do.
Baby R, he's another story, but one for another day as it is just about snack time and the C-A-N-D-Y War is about to continue. Wish me luck.