Thursday, August 11, 2005

yes, I am a mean mommy

I have been awake since 4 this morning. Since I normally wake up at 5, I figured to get an early jump on things. The plan went well until I had to wake the princess. I'm waiting for the day she starts saying "Five more minutes". It took almost an hour to get her motivated out of the crib. She did her normal routine while I had everything ready to go. When I finished brushing her hair (the final part of getting her ready), I said "O.K., let's go to school!"

"No, mommy. Doodlebops."

That darn show. Fine, she watched the rest of the show. The second it was done, I tried again.

"No, mommy. Charlie n Lola."

I drew the line there. They weren't on for another fifteen minutes. I used the bribe technique.

"Let's go now and we see Nana and PopPop tonight."

It worked. TV was shut off and we were out the door. Of course she was a bit ticked when she realized we weren't going to Nana and PopPop's now. I suffered through the screams until she quieted down. I figured we'd be about a half hour early.

All was going smooth until .... it looked like a damn Christmas tree in front of me. All tail lights were a glow. An accident seven miles ahead. It took twenty-five minutes to go 1.5 miles. I was livid.

And there is the baby. She was nice and calm watching Blue's Clues on her Video Now Jr. when the batteries decided to tank. First it was the panicky whine then it was the "Mommy! Mommy! My TV! My TV!"

i tried to ignore it but it got worse. We were stuck in traffic, not moving, and she was wigging. I lost it.

I turned and yelled, "Mommy is trying to drive! Your TV will have to wait."

She cried harder. I flipped.

Again, I yelled, this time to her reflection in the mirror, "Knock it off and quit your damn whining!"

She held out her TV, sucking in breaths of air in between sobs. I grabbed it and, while drving, changed the batteries - grumbling and bitching the entire time about the ungratefulness of children. I handed it back to her. She grabbed it. I looked in the mirror and saw her little teared streaked face stare at her TV while it played once more. To her, that was important.

"You can at least say thank you."

She looked at me through the mirror with those big eyes and said, "Thank you, Mommy."

I got the big bear hug and itty bitty kisses from her when I dropped her off at school, just like normal. I apologized to her for being an ogress. She hugged me really hard and said "I love you, Mommy." Ah, the healing power of a two year old.

I know she'll more than likely forget all these moments as she gets older.

That still doesn't make me feel any better.

5 comments:

Bigandmean said...

It sounds to me like you did just fine. I yelled at my daughter once under similar circumstances when she was less than two. I'll never forget the hurt look on her face. I felt about two feet tall even though yelling a little didn't seem to be such a huge infraction according to the unofficial rules of parenting with which I was familiar. One thing we can learn from the little ones though: they love unconditionally and forgive and forget any transgressions immediately. How nice it would be if all we adults could do the same.

PaxRomano said...

Joan Crawford would be proud.

::JUST KIDDING::

Maidink said...

B&M - Thanks. She's really a good kid, and I'm not just saying that because she's my child. I hear it all the time. That's why I feel like such a double heel whenever I yell. I know she's just being a two year old. Damn this learning process.

Thank goodness for blogging. It's my cheap therapy.

Pax - oh I feel loads better now. Thank goodness we only have plastic hangers at home. ;)

Lost said...

We all lose it occasionally, don't beat yourself up too bad, k? Just imagine her reaction to YOU crying, screaming and beating the steering wheel in frustration with the traffic. A little grumbling and yelling isn't nearly so scary.

Maidink said...

Lost - I did punch the steering wheel a couple of times. After I did, I realized what I had done and did a drum roll on it. I looked at her and said, "Can you play drums like Mommy?" She laughed and thought it was a game. When I dropped the game, so did she (thank goodness).