My kids are a whole bunch of messed up lately, and after a quick ring to the pediatrician, I am blaming it on the post traumatic stress of our hellish month of August. Between the destruction of our home, house hopping from place to place, and staying in a hotel, enough is enough.
My 10 year old.
Unstable. No other word describes that preteen mess. You say one thing to her and she totally flips her shit. “Do you need toilet paper for your bathroom?”
“WHAT?! What do you think, I like, used it all up, or wasted it? Just because I was trying to paint my TOENAILS it…well…UGH!” SOB SOB tears. If she isn’t acting like a diva, she’s acting like a toddler. Holy shit, I asked if you were out of TP. I understand that the hormones and juices are flowing now that she’s back in school, but really? I was informed that I am “totally gross” because we’ll be shopping for “trainers” this week. And you know, anything that has to do with puberty and pre-teens is gross, even if it’s just a glorified undershirt. Of course she said it’s MY fault she needs it. Sweetheart, I still barely need one.
My 3 yr old.
She’s decided out of nowhere to boycott going to the bathroom. At all. There’s nothing like grabbing your completely (for 11 months) potty-trained kid in a football hold to take her to the toilet by force because she’s been doing the pee pee dance in front of the tv screaming, “I don’t gotta go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” for 30 minutes. In reality, she has to go so bad she half pees on herself when we get there.
Control issues. It’s all about control.
I said she was a piece of cake, the easiest of my four by far…
Not. Any. More.
The baby.
What in the hell is going on and why doesn’t my 16 month old realize you are suppose to SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT?!?! She is not a hobbit that needs multiple meals like second breakfasts, noonsies, and third dinners at 2am. Save that crap for college, this getting up in the night thing is killing me slowly. She screamed her head off last night from 4am-5:15. We sat in the darkness, squinting at each other in a stare off. Her in the crib, me in the rocking chair.
I finally won around 5:30 and she crashed, literally, on her teddy bear and started to snore.
Estrogen sucks, but having three daughters is hysteria, with a side of hormonal imbalance, and a dash of obstinance. Okay, more than a dash. And the repercussions of that shit hole month of August left Bob and I with one common interest.
Sterilization.
