We've reached the hitting phase.
I didn't think it was coming -- not MY kid -- but it's here. This tiny little human is supremely frustrated with not having the language to communicate everything going on in her brain, so, now, she hits.
She hits toys, she hits the couch, she hits her dinner plate, and, worst of all, she hits herself. Herself! Her own freaking head! She hit me one day, too, but I put a swift stop to that. I don't even know how I did it. I think I startled her by yelling and put her down so fast, it made her head spin. Either way, I do not generally get hit, which is a small blessing.
Now that Ava is 19 months old, I struggle with how to discipline. Seriously, how much does a kid that age understand? So far, I've been putting her in "time out" on the stairs every time she hits herself. When she hits objects, I ignore her. It's all been touch-and-go, making me question my parenting strategies, oh, every half a second.
On the flip side, when she is sweet and gentle, I praise the shit out of her. Tonight, for example, she gently touched her head (she was thinking of hitting) and I made such a big deal about how gentle she was being. Then, she kept petting herself, which, of course, made me lay it on thick. We were a very bizarre duo for a minute there, with her stroking her own hair and me acting like she had just discovered a cure for fucking cancer. But at this point, I'll do anything.
Oh, another fun fact: She's also throwing things. Girl has got an ARM on her. I was washing dishes tonight while she was in her chair eating dinner/playing with her food when all of a sudden, her sippy cup came flying past my feet.
The hell?
You think that's acceptable? Think again, baby. Now you don't get milk. (Um, until you ask for it.)
She also threw her fork.
Okay, that's mine now too. Bye-bye, fork. Eat with your hands.
Sigh.
It's a process I guess.
On the bright side, I have taught her how to clear her plate when she's done. After she finishes her fruit, we carry her plate and bowl to the sink. I always prompt her by asking, "Are you all done? Let's put the dishes in the sink!" Tonight, though, she did it on her own. I turned around from washing the other dishes to see her with her bowl and cup already gathered in her arms. "Sink," she said. "Sink."
"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO SMART. YES. YES, LET'S PUT THESE IN THE SINK. THANK YOU FOR NOT BEING SUCH A JERK! YOU'RE THE BEST."
(The rest of the evening went well until her post-bathtime diaper change, where she screamed and kicked so much that she actually cut her heel -- it bled! I was so sad for her at first and scooped her up in my arms with a flurry of kisses and hugs, but once she was "all better," I said, "That's called karma, muthafuka." I'm a terrible person.)
Anyway, it's a weird age. She's still little and cute, but she's also a demon spawn. I love her so much, but I want her to change. She's interacting with me in the best possible ways, but her mood can change on a dime. I'm trying to keep up, but all I know for sure is that this kid is gonna be the end of me.
Showing posts with label meltdowns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meltdowns. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2015
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
What the hell has happened?
It's been over 6 months since my last post, which might as well be a lifetime in parenthood.
When 2015 hit, I had grand delusions that I would return to blogging and force myself to write at least once a week to capture the precious and panicked moments that are now my life. But that didn't really happen. So here we are, several weeks later, with an endless supply of updates that should be told.
I could write about how Ava began walking at 13 months, how she LOVES going to the park, how she can now sit through a solid 45 minutes of "Frozen," how she is obsessed with Itsy Bitsy Spider and Wheels on the Bus (complete with dancing and hand motions), how she has enough hair for pigtails, how she tries to put on her own shoes and socks, how she shoos the dogs out of the kitchen during dinner ("uh uh uh! uh uh uh!"), how she hugs Rocco all the time, how she yells what we *think* is "XBOX ON!" when she sees the TV in our bedroom, how she is learning to share with her friends at daycare, how freakin joyfully she greets me when I pick her up after work, how she runs nearly everywhere, how she is binky-free during the day, how she can identify so many animals...
I could tell you all of this. But instead, I'm going to tell you about how someday not long ago, someone swapped out my awesome, sweet, happy-all-the-time infant and replaced her with a bat-shit crazy toddler whose mood swings are so epic, I can't even keep up.
WHAT HAPPENED? I feel like my head is just constantly spinning.
Take tonight, for example.
Ava was being her normal self, running around the house when Dave began to get dinner ready. We gave her milk, she helped turn on the microwave for her carrots, she happily took her medicine (double ear infection for the second time in as many months) and she was playing with her new "Frozen" gifts from Great Aunt Nancy. Then she decided to flip the switch.
For seemingly no reason, her mood plummeted. She didn't want to eat. She didn't want carrots. She didn't want anything. Or anyone. Dave put her in her chair, and she screamed. He put food in front of her, and she violently pushed it away. He gave her the milk again, and she threw it on the floor. The tears and the yelling kept getting worse.
I took a 5 min. break, and when I came back, she was still crying and pissed while Dave was holding her. She reached for me when I came back in the kitchen, then immediately wanted down. Then started crying worse because I actually put her down. Fun!
So, I sat on the floor and let her freak out. She didn't want me near her and she needed to get this out of her system. As her cries began to lessen, I thought it would be safe to make eye contact. I was sorely mistaken.
As soon as I looked at her, she screamed way worse than before. It was like, "HOW DARE YOU CAST YOUR EYES UPON ME! THIS HAS RUINED MY LIFE! FOREVER!"
Ugh, FINE! I will avert my eyes!
That seemed to calm her down a bit. After a few minutes, she pointed to her chair and said, "Help." I froze.
Is... is this a trick? I don't know what to do.
I tried to be super nonchalant about it. I stood, scooped her up and put her in the chair. I gave her a fork and then immediately began doing the dishes, which I believed to be the least offensive action I could take. Not even five minutes later, I heard it...
A giggle.
A giggle?
A fucking giggle.
She had poured her blueberries on the table and found this hilarious. I looked over at her and we made eye contact. I braced myself for another meltdown, but instead, she looked directly into my eyes and laughed. It was cute, in a maniacal kind of way.
The rest of dinner was totally uneventful. She ate all of her squash, most of her chicken and a few carrots. Polished off her strawberries, like 5 blueberries and half a graham cracker. None of it intentionally thrown on the floor in a fit of rage.
Bath and bedtime were also peaceful. Ava didn't even try to catapult herself out of the crib tonight, like she tried to do last night. (That a whole another blog.)
And here I am. Again, head spinning. I don't even know what happened. A few nights ago was exactly like this. Like I said before, I can't keep up.
All I hear about is about age 3 is a million times worse than age 2, but all I can think is, "Do you mean 18 months is worse than everything else and you'll survive it and don't hook of an IV of wine quite yet because it really won't get more absurd than this? Is that what you mean?"
Apparently it's not. This insanity is still the calm before the storm.
Please pray.
When 2015 hit, I had grand delusions that I would return to blogging and force myself to write at least once a week to capture the precious and panicked moments that are now my life. But that didn't really happen. So here we are, several weeks later, with an endless supply of updates that should be told.
I could write about how Ava began walking at 13 months, how she LOVES going to the park, how she can now sit through a solid 45 minutes of "Frozen," how she is obsessed with Itsy Bitsy Spider and Wheels on the Bus (complete with dancing and hand motions), how she has enough hair for pigtails, how she tries to put on her own shoes and socks, how she shoos the dogs out of the kitchen during dinner ("uh uh uh! uh uh uh!"), how she hugs Rocco all the time, how she yells what we *think* is "XBOX ON!" when she sees the TV in our bedroom, how she is learning to share with her friends at daycare, how freakin joyfully she greets me when I pick her up after work, how she runs nearly everywhere, how she is binky-free during the day, how she can identify so many animals...
I could tell you all of this. But instead, I'm going to tell you about how someday not long ago, someone swapped out my awesome, sweet, happy-all-the-time infant and replaced her with a bat-shit crazy toddler whose mood swings are so epic, I can't even keep up.
WHAT HAPPENED? I feel like my head is just constantly spinning.
Take tonight, for example.
Ava was being her normal self, running around the house when Dave began to get dinner ready. We gave her milk, she helped turn on the microwave for her carrots, she happily took her medicine (double ear infection for the second time in as many months) and she was playing with her new "Frozen" gifts from Great Aunt Nancy. Then she decided to flip the switch.
For seemingly no reason, her mood plummeted. She didn't want to eat. She didn't want carrots. She didn't want anything. Or anyone. Dave put her in her chair, and she screamed. He put food in front of her, and she violently pushed it away. He gave her the milk again, and she threw it on the floor. The tears and the yelling kept getting worse.
I took a 5 min. break, and when I came back, she was still crying and pissed while Dave was holding her. She reached for me when I came back in the kitchen, then immediately wanted down. Then started crying worse because I actually put her down. Fun!
So, I sat on the floor and let her freak out. She didn't want me near her and she needed to get this out of her system. As her cries began to lessen, I thought it would be safe to make eye contact. I was sorely mistaken.
As soon as I looked at her, she screamed way worse than before. It was like, "HOW DARE YOU CAST YOUR EYES UPON ME! THIS HAS RUINED MY LIFE! FOREVER!"
Ugh, FINE! I will avert my eyes!
That seemed to calm her down a bit. After a few minutes, she pointed to her chair and said, "Help." I froze.
Is... is this a trick? I don't know what to do.
I tried to be super nonchalant about it. I stood, scooped her up and put her in the chair. I gave her a fork and then immediately began doing the dishes, which I believed to be the least offensive action I could take. Not even five minutes later, I heard it...
A giggle.
A giggle?
A fucking giggle.
She had poured her blueberries on the table and found this hilarious. I looked over at her and we made eye contact. I braced myself for another meltdown, but instead, she looked directly into my eyes and laughed. It was cute, in a maniacal kind of way.
The rest of dinner was totally uneventful. She ate all of her squash, most of her chicken and a few carrots. Polished off her strawberries, like 5 blueberries and half a graham cracker. None of it intentionally thrown on the floor in a fit of rage.
Bath and bedtime were also peaceful. Ava didn't even try to catapult herself out of the crib tonight, like she tried to do last night. (That a whole another blog.)
And here I am. Again, head spinning. I don't even know what happened. A few nights ago was exactly like this. Like I said before, I can't keep up.
All I hear about is about age 3 is a million times worse than age 2, but all I can think is, "Do you mean 18 months is worse than everything else and you'll survive it and don't hook of an IV of wine quite yet because it really won't get more absurd than this? Is that what you mean?"
Apparently it's not. This insanity is still the calm before the storm.
Please pray.
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