Happy Tuesday!

O has a bit of a nasty cough (again). I think she’s getting over it now, so it’s just a lot of phlegm. But I do feel bad for her little body to cough so hard. She had a pretty rough sleep at the beginning, but she slept the whole night. This morning she came into our bed at 5 am, and we held hands as she slept.

We woke up late. DH was in a mood right away. It was somehow only my fault that it was 6:47 and we weren’t up.

Then the morning began, and things changed.  The milk bottle was drank in peace.  She didn’t fight me when I said it’s time to go change diaper and get ready to go to Titi’s house (daycare).  Daddy, go work?? Yes, that’s why we have to get ready.  Ok. I should have known. It was much too easy.  I had to put the nasal saline in her nose just get her to breathe through her nose, and then sucking it up with the bubble sucker thing (I think that is the medical term for it).  That also went OK, until the end when she got a little whinny, which is to be expected.

But then, THEN, choosing of the shirt to wear. I don’t know what is going on, but if I miss one weekend of doing her laundry, she has absolutely no shirts left to wear. And I am too cheap to buy more 2T long sleeve shirts, when the winter is almost over.  She didn’t want the one with the duck on it. Do you want the blue one?  NOOOOOOOOOO.  She grabs it from my hand and throws it. Relax, I tell her, I’m going to put it away.  Then I go to the back up and pull a 3T shirt.  No, Mommy, I no want it!!!! She starts crying. But look, O, it has a purple butterfly on it.  NOOOOOOOOO, Mommy, I NO WANT IT! (If I can express the venom in her voice, I think only then could you understand how the situation deteriorated.)  But, O, there are no more clean shirts (and it’s only freaking Tuesday! said in my head.)  I wrestle with her, and get the freaking shirt on her. And it is clearly too big. Great! I think, now I have to wrestle it off of her and try to put one one of the two other offending shirts.

So I try to distract her with brushing her teeth. Never a good distraction, because at the best of times that is hardly a pleasant experience.  But it needs to be done.  I don’t remember how it happened, but somehow I ended up brushing her teeth. This leads me to believe that we must have yelled at each other a little more because normally she doesn’t want me to brush her teeth.  Then I go to wash her face. One wipe of my hand over her face produces such screams, I’m at a loss. Then I say, Ok.  Maybe we can change the shirt. I don’t know why I chose this new obviously bumpy road, but more screams, and she refuses to let me take her shirt off.

At this point, I’m so frustrated, I take the shirt I was trying to change her into, and just throw it on the floor, and I say, FINE, go to daycare however you want.

Now you might be wondering, DH can’t possibily be in the house anymore.  Ah, but he is. And his ever so helpful self offers the following gem, Hey, calm down.  What is wrong with you. At which, I yell back, Well why don’t you stay on the couch while I try to deal with this. You do it!!!  And I walk to the bedroom.

DH takes O, chances her shirt explains why, and I hear her saying, Mommy coming??  Mommy, coming? through tears…  Breaks my heart. So now I feel bad for losing my cool.  Then O comes in my room. I pick her up, and tell her sorry, and I ask her to be nice to mommy.  Ok, Mommy, she responds.  And I start crying in her hair. I feel SOOOOOOOO bad.  DH, again full of support, comes in says, Are you serious?? (referring to my crying.)  I tell him to just let me be.

Now, there are several issues here.  Why would I argue with a 2 year old?? I don’t know.  I think it’s because I knew we were running late, and I don’t know why else.

Then the other issue is, if DH saw the situation deteriorating quickly, he should have stepped in.  If she is in a mood, it’s hard to get her ready. And he’s hardly in the position to question why I get upset over this. He has been known to get moody when O is mean to him. So why not me???

I hope tonight we can have a peaceful evening!

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About RidgewoodMom

Thirtysomething mom of a baby girl. First and only baby, possibly. First baby amongst my close friends. These are the trials, frustrations and lessons I have learned in raising a single child in New York.
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