"I DO IT MYSELF!" (Or: The Beginning of the End)


The 6:18 a.m. tantrum, which we enjoy daily from Monday through Friday, has reached new heights. My "sweet little cupcake baked by the devil" has decided to dress herself. You'd think I'd be happy about this sort of progress (as in, "awww, she's growing up!"), but I'm not. Trust me, letting her dress herself will only lead to pure misery - for all of us, even the dogs. I remember my middle sister yelling, "I DO IT BY MESELF!" when she was a wee lass, and now her niece is following in her footsteps.


This morning, for the first few seconds after she awoke, we almost thought she was going to be in a good mood. Ha ha! I made a funny! Hoo, I kill myself sometimes.


It all started to go downhill when I tried to get her dressed and put a Pull-Up on her (this potty training stuff is still in its early stages so I didn't want to get all cocky and send her off to daycare in her Ariel underwear). "No, I do it!" Fine, be my guest. Then she wanted to put on her pants by herself. After five minutes of contortions and crying, they were on. Then came the shoes and socks (I had scored an early victory by slipping her shirt on before she was able to stage a protest). As her breakfast grew ever colder, she was on her back on the floor, red-faced, snot running, one cock-eyed sock partially stuck on her left foot. If she knew any obscenities, she would have shouted them. (She should know a few - she lives with me, after all. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty disappointed in her.) And then a minor triumph - the sock was on. The other foot, however, would not go down so easily. Finally, several minutes later, she was dressed. Or some close approximation - I don't know about you, but I'm sure not going to be the one to tell her when her gear is crooked. (Go ahead, tell her - I triple dog dare you.)


Just when we thought the battle was drawing to a close, she decided that she no longer needs help getting up into her booster seat. We watched her struggle for several minutes. She had her fingers hooked around the back of the chair, legs flailing behind her as she fought to get her knee up onto the plastic seat. We dared not offer our assistance. P and I looked at each other and shrugged. "Did we keep our receipt?" I asked him. "Maybe we could return her?"


Moments later, she was sitting happily in her booster seat, munching a Flintstones vitamin and chatting merrily with the dogs. When it was time for her to leave with her dad, she found me in the bathroom, kissed me on both cheeks, and gave me a hug. "She, um, swings like a pendulum, doesn't she?" He just nodded.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

14 Weeks

Image
My baby is leaving me in 14 weeks.  She and I started touring colleges in May of 2022. When I applied to colleges back in 1988, I was an English major so there were no auditions. Colleges basically just said, "Sounds good. Come on in." I was the first person in my immediate family to go to college and as a whole, I don't think we understood the importance of campus visits and such. I ended up being fairly miserable that first year until I transferred to a school closer to home. For my daughter, I wanted to make sure she had an opportunity to see lots of college campuses so that she had the best shot at figuring out what she wants out of the college experience. I wanted her to look at elements like campus size and location, diversity, activities, distance from home, and distance from the nearest "big city" (since performers often head to larger cities with active theatre scenes after college).  Last summer, we began the daunting process known as "getting int
Read more

On Being Patriotic

The list of adjectives I assign to myself is pretty long: clumsy, organized, competent, uptight, etc. One that might surprise you: patriotic. I fully understand what it means to be an American and am darned happy about living here. But, I have a beef (that part won't surprise you). I've grown tired of certain segments of the population thinking that they've cornered the market on patriotism or that they can dictate precisely how the rest of us express ourselves when it comes to our shared country and flag. Sometimes it seems like the Toby-Keith-boot-in-yer-ass brand of patriotism drowns out the rest of us. For the record, I don't believe that patriotism requires a love of NASCAR, a disdain for immigrants, a Republican voting record, or a preference for country music. Nor does it require adherence to a specific religion. I've seen Facebook posts from some of my friends and acquaintances that call for all of us to return to the "Christian principles on which
Read more

Three cheers for headgear!

Image
The day has finally arrived. Headgear day! I feel a bit sorry for my daughter's orthodontist. I have a feeling that most kids hate him until they see the end result of all the re-arranging and appliances  - in theory, straight teeth. We pass Dr. M's office building pretty regularly and my daughter shakes her fist at it every time. She was basically a pill during today's visit. He had to make an adjustment to her palate expander and she was not what you'd call a good sport about it. I don't think Dr. M loses a lot of sleep over the fact that my daughter dislikes him, though. Anywho . . . the kid was fitted with her new headgear and we were sent home with instructions and about a hundred million tiny rubber bands. The instructions are that she needs to wear it at least 10 hours a day, if not more like 12. We can't even get Her Highness to flush a toilet - making her wear headgear feels like a Herculean task right out of the gate. But, we shall see. Be glad you
Read more