My daughter is the light of my life. She brings me immeasurable joy. Her smile gives me a warm fuzzy bigger than I ever imagined possible. When she hugs me and tells me she loves me, when she puckers up to give me a kiss, I am one million thousand percent in love with her. My heart full to bursting.
Having said all of that, oh my god can she push my buttons:
- Kicking, wailing, screaming, when we brush her teeth. Every. Single. Time. I try to make it fun. I sing silly teethbrushing songs. I clap. I smile. And yet somehow it is still the ultimate torture. The only thing worse is washing her hair. Why is personal hygiene such a hardship?
- Vegetables? Hahahahahahahahaha. (deep breath) Hahahahahahahahaha. No.
- We live in an old house. Old houses have teensy weensy closets. As such, I have two racks full of shoes that sit outside the closet in our bedroom. Sophie goes to those racks and clears them, tossing shoe after shoe over her shoulder. I follow behind her and rerack them all (Some days/weeks, I just leave them, what's the point?). This happens almost every day. I can't count the number of times she has visited time out for this, and yet, she keeps doing it. With a gleam in her eye. Sadist?
- Laundry seems to be an irresistible commodity to her. Clean, dirty, folded - no matter. It all gets tossed out of the basket. This is most frustrating when it's a basket of freshly laundered clothes that I made the mistake of leaving her alone with.
- 7am. Can we just sleep until there's a 7 on the clock? I am a night owl. Always have been, always will be. No amount of sleep deprivation can consistently get me to sleep before midnight. This getting up at 6/6:30 stuff is for the birds. Why did I have to spawn a morning person?
- Dragging me outside, the horror, and then not sticking with any activity I try to engage her in for more than 23 seconds. I don't expect her to spend two hours sidewalk chalking, but come on, kid.
We attack each of these, and many more, every day. Much time is spent in Time Out. I know most are just symptoms of toddlerhood, but the knowing doesn't make them any less frustrating.
Ultimately I complain, because it's what I do, but the truth is that despite all this, that kid of mine is an awful lot of fun.