Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Only 19 More Years Until I Live in a Democracy Again

When Little Man turned 18 months old, he went from being a perfectly happy baby to a toddler angry at the entire world and its unfairness, because seriously? not being able to have ice cream for dinner is just as bad as the world coming to an end.

We worked through these difficult months with a lot of alcohol (for us, not Little Man) and many time outs (also for us. Actually, wait, I guess these were for both Little Man and us. Our time alones just included alcohol, because you can never drink enough when you have to live with a toddler).

When Little Man turned two, his vocabulary exploded and the hissy fits with the red face and the pulsing veins and the kicking of the feet and the pointless shrieking came to (almost) an end and were replaced instead with sobbing pleas that were much more tolerable.

Apparently, I have come to realize that half birthdays are extremely hard to celebrate, kind of the way women act with 30th, 40th and any birthday that ends in a zero. Luckily, we women only have these birthdays every 10 years, and the trauma can easily be avoided by lying about your age. For toddlers, these half birthdays are a once a year event and lying is reserved for giant turds in the diaper that are making the neighbor two doors down's eyes water. Because if you deny you've pooped long enough, surely they'll leave you alone and you won't have to stop crashing your Hot Wheels. I believe I might be raising the next Bill Clinton and I feel that any day, my son will turn to me and say "define 'poop.'"

This week, Little Man has decided that his lungs are out of shape and the best way to get them ready for the next Hannah Montana concert is to lose his shit at every possible opportunity.

Here are some of my actions that have been worthy of fits this week. I dare you to tell me that I don't live with a tyrant:

- On Monday, Little Man threw a fit and rolled on the floor because I had the gall to turn on the TV after serving him his breakfast and putting on a Blue's Clues episode. This has been a tradition since he was still unable to hold down all of his formula. Apparently, he wanted music instead of Blue's Clues, because television is below his intellect. How I was expected to know this, I don't know, but I have accepted the mental beating I took and now am considerate enough to never turn on the television set.

- A few minutes after I switched the television set to the Sirius Top 40 station, the stupid morning DJ's decided to banter instead of playing Nickelback's 'Rockstar' for the 11 millionth time. This made Little Man beat me to a pulp with his stuffed frog because damn it, I should have more control over radio dj's based somewhere in the Continental US.

- Yesterday, Little Man was eating his breakfast and enjoying a rousing version of Flo Rida's 'Low'. I hadn't had a chance to make my breakfast yet, which consists of a soy milk, yogurt and frozen fruit smoothie. I started the blender, which apparently is a crime against humanity when Flo Rida's singing about apple-bottom jeans and giving big booties a slap.

Other crimes I have performed?

- Lowering the radio in the car to talk on the phone.

- Pre-cutting Little Man's food.

- Not letting him wear his footed pajamas to school.

It gets better at three, right? Please tell me that it does. Because I'm not allowed alcohol and cigarettes for another 8 months and chocolate just isn't enough to get through this.

Love,

Catwoman.

28 comments:

Morgan Leigh said...

Oh, I know about the cutting up of food crap. My son? Freaks OUT if you even accidentally mess up the food in any way. I hope it gets better at 3. I really do.

Jesse said...

I feel your pain; I'm not sure what's got into Monkey but he has been an absolute pain in my butt. Screaming throwing fits and they're usually over nothing-and here I thought my daughter was the drama queen. We have good days and bad days but like you I'm hoping when he turns 3 that he'll grow out of it. Oh and I gave you an award so come by and check it out.

CPA Mom said...

sorry, it does NOT get better at 3. or 4. or 5. I hear maybe we get a break at 8? But that could be an urban myth.

Krystyn said...

You aren't making me feel better about my 16 month old to whom I've committed awful crimes against, too! I hope for your sake and mine, 3 is better!

Wonderful World of Weiners said...

All I can say is you SHOULD be beaten for not serving ice cream as a meal!! I mean COME ON!! How is it ANY WORSE than chicken nuggets and fries?

Hallie :)

Emma in Canada said...

Oh it is so true, the second half year is worse than the first half. Until they turn 6 and they are difficult from 51/2 to 6 1/2. Have i said this before in your comments? I know I did somewhere. But it is a fact, I have it in writing from a parenting class that did not help me very much! In 6 months and a few days he will be the sweet Little man again.

Karen said...

Oh, yeh, it gets better. They start picking apart their casserole looking for the elusive onion that you've hidden in there somewhere, all the while wining and complaining that you're the worst cook in the world and you're trying to poison them slowly.

And then they get up from the table and raid the fridge because they're starving. They leave you nothing to cook another poisoned meal with. It gets better, trust me.

Just Me said...

It's true, one of the worst parts of being pregnant with a toddler is the lack of alcohol. I think my days could go a lot better with a nice big glass of wine (not whine) at the end. 4 more months to go....

Ava said...

Oh the joys of motherhood. Maybe Green Tea Icecream? It is sweet and isn't as awful (and by awful I clearly mean terribly delicious) as rocky road or whatever.

But what do I know, I have no children. All I have is the pretty recent memory of being a picky eater as a child. My family called me the antelope cause I would just graze on lettuce and carrots all day and eat nothing else.

Good luck!

anglophilefootballfanatic said...

I hate to break it to ya tootsie, three is so not fun I'm almost willing to spend about $20 to properly cuss about it.

And, the Kinsella book? So good I stayed up until after 1 reading...and was then of course, woken by the almost 3 yo at 4:45 just because.

hotshuz said...

The twos are the best (hehe)!!

Kellie said...

Let's drink together in 8 months :)

Sandy said...

Know why they call them the terrible twos? Because theatrical, threatening, and troublesome were already taken for three!

Sorry.

Buy tequila now. You can sniff it, right?

Haphazardkat said...

5/6 are the best years cuz they are in school FULL time and the teachers have to hear them whine!!

Congrats, btw, Chickie :D I'm excited for you!!!!

David said...

Wow, just for a second I had to check and see if I had actually clicked on MY blog and this entry was from MY wife....lol....scary....

Those crimes may be punishable by death...or the loss of the hockey channel.....something like that...

;-) Good luck!!!

Daphne said...

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but with my, now 6 year old son, the 3's were so much worse that the 2's. But the 4's & 5's weren't too bad. Now he thinks he's grown and smarter than me.

villagegirl said...

I feel your pain. I really do. I really hope it does all change for you when he's three. Me? I'm hoping 5's the magic number. And I'm not a doormat mama. He's just stubborn. And strong willed. Ugh. My life is fun.

Nina Diane said...

I thought 3 was so much worse than 2...sorry!
I guess that's our only advantage of Maddox being delayed...he doesn't realize that he should be throwing fits now. He actually threw a fit once and we all applauded.....funny huh?

Laura McIntyre said...

Ohh your a terribly mommy, it seems these toddlers thing mummy should be able to do everything and anything

Ava said...

Has anybody else noticed that the baby in the baby meter, the one that's 4th from the right, looks like a smoker?

Just a thought.

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

I got yelled at this morning for peeling a banana without asking permission first. When I realized I had to ask permission, the Toddler rolled her eyes at me and said, "Yes, please." The attitude mixed with the manners is going to be the death of me. I know it.

A's Mom said...

Oh the crimes we commit. I can only imagine what they will be as the years go on. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you, but unfortunately I'm dealing with a little tyrant myself. Thanks for giving me a look in the crystal ball.

I'm a Mom!..? said...

It's like a switch that flips in them, I wish I knew how to flip it back!!!

Jamie said...

Love it! Don't know how I stumbled upon you blog. Thanks for hte laugh.

I, after having young ones, now understand why mom's in their last 30's finally check into rehab after the kids are a little older!! It's a epidemic!!!

I told my husband, next time he leaves town he better put a 12 pack in the fridge for me (what maby a case) So that once I put the little booger eaters to bed....I can drink myself into a coma!!

Rachel said...

I am hoping that 8 is the year it gets better!

mumof4 said...

It sort of gets better at 4 and then goes down hill a bit at 7

xDashofPanachex said...

Minus the ridiculous actions that go along with the hissy fits, I think he might be better than some of the guys on my hall. EVERYTHING sucks, they have to complain about it all. Which might be contagious, because now I'm complaining about their complaining. Dammit.

Joy T. said...

Hilarious! Oh and it definitely gets better at three. Then they turn 15 *snort*