Middle English, from Latin irrationalis, from in- + rationalis rational
: not rational: as a (1): not endowed with reason or understanding (2): lacking usual or normal mental clarity or coherence b: not governed by or according to reason
— ir·ra·tio·nal·i·ty \-ˌra-shə-ˈna-lə-tē\ noun
— ir·ra·tio·nal·ly \-ˈra-sh(ə-)nə-lē\ adverb
I define the word "irrational" like this: my kid.
Is it something with the 33-month-old mind? Does the "logic" part of the brain not get activated until later or something?
Here's an example. A has an extra blanket on her bed. It's a colorful little quilt that my friend Ursula made for A when she was born (when I mention to A that my friend made it, she screams, "NO! URSULA IS MY FRIEND!") Lately the kid wants to sleep with the quilt arranged somehow underneath the other blankets. And she wants me to help her accomplish this. She lays down and then I place the quilt over her. "No, not that side!" she reprimands me. So I flip the blanket over so that it is face-down. "NO!" I am still wrong. I decide to flip it end to end. Now she is furious. Finally, I have my own meltdown and start yelling, "It only has two freakin' sides!"
The other night I decided to let her have a Scooby Doo push-up pop for dessert. (Yeah, you can try to sell kids on that whole "fruit makes a wonderful dessert" idea, but I don't know any kid who will buy that old line.) We had two push-up pops left, a red one and an orange one. I held them up. "Do you want red or orange?" She studied them for an interminable amount of time before deciding."Red."
"Okay, red it is." I put the orange push-up back in the freezer which, predictably, led to another meltdown. "NOOOOOOOO! Orange!!!!!" Of course. I mean, what was I thinking?
This also goes on with beverages. She asks for milk and when you hand it to her you are met with, "I wanted juice!" Half the time I don't even bother to point out to her that she had, in fact, requested what I was attempting to give her. It's an exercise in futility. I feel like I'm working for some ruthless tyrant who at any time might implement with a whole new set of random whims/demands. Isn't it Madonna who requests that all minions must avert their eyes when they pass her in the hallway? Or Jennifer Lopez, who demands white (and only white) flowers in her dressing room? Heck, I'm probably lucky that my daughter allows me to remain in her employ, particularly when you consider my miserable record.
I used to think I was pretty competent until I became a mom. I mean, I graduated college with honors and I do manage to dress myself and drive a car every day. Now I'm just a big, inept moron who does not even know which chair Teddy Bear wants to sit in at breakfast time. ("This one?" "NO!" "This one?" "NOOOOOOO!")
I sometimes feel like I've landed some freakish, unpaid internship which, in theory, will last decades. Every so often I am paid with an "I love you, Mama." No union benefits, no vacations, and no raises. And somehow . . . I'm okay with that.