Cheetos Are Bad For Me

When I had Ironflower, I planned to feed her a nutritious and organic diet as well as breastfeeding her for at least a year. The first crack showed up when she chose to wean herself at ten months. Then she swiped a french fry. And then she had chocolate cake at her first birthday. It was downhill from there. With Lovebug, I managed to at least breastfeed longer. He developed a penchant for his sister's Cheetos at a very young age.

And now I'm being punished for it. I made the mistake of buying Cheetos at the grocery store yesterday. And I let Lovebug hold them. I suppose my second mistake was bragging to everyone about how easy it is to get my shopping done when one kid or the other is in preschool. Anyway, between my bragging and allowing a small child to eat Cheetos, I guess I deserved what happened next.

As I was paying, Lovebug demanded to hold the Cheetos again. I had forgotten to separate them, so the bagger had put them somewhere. Somewhere I couldn't immediately locate. I explained he would have to wait until we got outside and out of the way. Lovebug's demands grew louder - the kind of louder that told me he was overtired and we were due for a meltdown. The tears flowed. The yells grew louder. I tried to calmly explain that we don't scream to get what we want as I pushed the full cart past all the people staring at me. I had barely taken two steps when I nearly collided with the person in front of me.

Lovebug and I were perhaps twenty feet from the door. I was sweating, since stress does that to me when I'm super pregnant. Lovebug was throwing a huge tantrum. We were quite a sight. And in front of us, in the too narrow for two carts to pass aisle, was an elderly couple. If they had been going any slower they would have been going backwards. Normally this would not have bothered me, but with sweat dripping down my face and a screaming two year old, I was in a bit of a hurry. Instead it took us five minutes to get to the door. I'm not exaggerating. I think the poor couple may have been deaf as well, since they never seemed to notice the huge tantrum going on behind them.

In our five minute trudge to the door, I tried not to have evil thoughts about them. I distracted myself by listing all the mistakes I had made that led to the tantrum - allowing Cheetos into my home, buying some that day, letting Lovebug hold them, not removing them from the bagger's clutches, getting behind this couple. This didn't really improve my mood.

Finally we made it to the car. Lovebug began to calm down. I wiped the sweat away. But then Lovebug decided he didn't want to climb into his car seat. I loaded the groceries in. Still no luck. I told him he needed to climb in or I would have to put him in, because we had to go. Still no luck. So I put him in his seat - and the tantrum began again. I was tempted to let him get down and do it himself, but then I thought I'd be rewarding the tantrum. And I'm pretty sure that's what got me into this tantrum mess in the first place. So I strapped his struggling body into the seat and got into the driver's seat.

I blotted the sweat. I took a few deep breaths. Lovebug screamed. The shopping cart guy glared at me. I had visions of other grocery store workers surrounding my car and I quickly drove away.

Moral of the story? Cheetos are bad. And life isn't necessarily easier when you only have one kid to deal with at the grocery story.

Haiku Friday - Tantrum Edition

Asked for a break

a bit dizzy, had to sit

Ironflower MAD

It is the most gorgeous day of 2008 thus far, and after story time I took the kids to the playground. We had walked, so by the time we got to the park I was a little tired. On the way there, I had called Hubby and convinced him to bring us lunch so that we could have a family picnic. Upon arrival, the kiddos headed for the swings. Soon Lovebug wanted to get down and run around, but not Ironflower.

I soon realized that with the actual heat, the pushing the stroller full of library books and my  basic nausea that I needed to sit down. I told Ironflower that I was dizzy and needed to sit on the bench for a few minutes, so she would have to get out of the swing. Her response was to scream.

She screamed and wailed as I took her out of the swing. She kicked and stomped while I walked to the bench. She followed me, telling me how awful I was. She knocked over the stroller. I put her on the bench next to me for a time out. She continued to scream and wail. She tried to get out of her time out.

When Hubby showed up, instead of having a family picnic, we left. Ironflower screamed the entire way home and for a good half an hour in her room. I was so angry. I couldn't stand this little brat who  had ruined our family's day. And where the hell was my daughter?

When we talked to her about it later, all she would say was that she was mad at me for not playing with her. What have I done wrong?

Yet More Evidence That I Am Incompetent

Yesterday I took Ironflower and Lovebug to an indoor play area. They were in heaven - the climbing structure was amazing and some sweet older kids included them in their games. Every so often I would ask Ironflower if she needed to go to the bathroom. She would always reply no.

Generally, Ironflower is potty trained. Especially if you ask her about it periodically. Which I did.

But I should have weathered the tantrum that would have resulted from a forced potty break. Because the tantrum that came when we had to leave - because she'd wet herself and a slide - was much, much worse.

I (of course) had just started reading a parenting magazine, because the kids were safe and entertained. I was glancing up periodically, of course. But not when Ironflower was peeing, natch. So another mom had to tell me about it. She was also kind enough to alert one of the workers - surely we're on a blacklist now.
Then there was the fact that I didn't have an extra outfit for her. So we had to leave.

Neither child wanted to leave. As usual, though, after an initial screaming session that rocked the roof, Lovebug calmed down and accepted the inevitable. Not Ironflower. I practically had to drag her out by the arm (because, well, she was pretty much covered in pee so I REALLY didn't want to carry her).

Is There Such A Thing As Boarding Preschool?

Dear Ironflower and Lovebug,

I love you two more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. You are beautiful, brilliant and funny.

But sometimes I want to send you to boarding school. I know that you are only three and not quite two, but just hear me out. Every time you have a baby-sitter (be it grandparents or family friend), I hear about what amazingly well-behaved children you are. Ironflower, your teacher says you NEVER whine at school. She was genuinely surprised when I picked you up yesterday and you started whining. And Lovebug, you NEVER do your screaming thing in public anymore. You only do it for me - you're already up to four screaming fits this morning. And well, children, I'm getting kind of tired of the tantrums, whining, screaming and general defiance.

Sometimes I think I must be doing something wrong and that's why all of your unpleasantness is saved for me. And that's where I got the boarding school idea. At boarding school, you wouldn't have to assert your independence - you'd already be independent! Isn't that what you want? At boarding school you would be able to be your INCREDIBLE public selves ALL THE TIME.

And I would get to spend a day or two free from screaming, tantrums and defiance.

Because kiddos, I would probably only make it without you for about two days. And then I'd have to rush up to your boarding school for hugs. And there's also the fact that you MIGHT have some separation anxiety without me for a couple of days. Especially at bedtime

So maybe the boarding school idea won't work.

So I guess that means we're going to have to improve your behavior right here at home. Got any ideas?

All my love,

Mommy

A Letter At The End of THE TRIP

Dear passengers on the flight from KCI to Newark last Wednesday night,

I am sorry about my son's tantrum. He hadn't had a chance to run around in days and he just wanted to get down. Also, his ears hurt because we kept circling. But contrary to what those two little bitches young women in front of me believed, the tears streaming down my face were not because my toddler kept head-butting me. And screaming. And kicking.

Tantrums don't make me cry. They really don't. But we had just spent ten days with my in-laws, conserving water and not having internet access and I just wanted to GO HOME. Instead, the plane was circling. But that wouldn't normally make me cry either. Even the horrible PMS I was having wouldn't make me cry in public.

It was (what felt like) the hot knives piercing my skull and the nausea and dizziness that undid me. I have been in pain like that before and I have been that (or even more) nauseous and dizzy before, of course. Like during the colonoscopy where the medieval sadist of a doctor wouldn't give me painkillers. But at least then I was not really in public, nor was I trying to control a screaming toddler, nor was I a survivor of ten days of stress, nor was I trying to continue a conversation with my three year old so that she wouldn't feel ignored.

I am hoping that most of you didn't even notice my tears. I didn't make any noise while I cried, after all. You may have noticed me snapping at Hubby, who had no idea what the hell was wrong with me and was embarrassed by my tears. (In his defense, I really couldn't explain - I was too terrified to talk, lest I throw up. He offered to change seats so he could hold Lovebug - airline policy only allowed the person in my seat to hold an infant - but I was so dizzy I was too terrified to stand up. Hubby had no way to help and no idea what was wrong with me. ) If so, don't worry about it. Generally we are quite happy with each other and normally we're a reasonably functional family.

Sincerely,

The lady with the puffy pink face in 11B

Elder Abuse, I'm Pretty Sure

So this morning started out positively. When my alarm went off, I determined that both children were still asleep so I turned it off and slept until 8am. When I went to Lovebug's room, he was perfectly cheerful and waited patiently for me to put away all of yesterday's laundry. As I was dressing him (or, to be more accurate, wrestling him into a diaper and outfit while trying not to be a victim of grievous bodily harm), I heard Ironflower call for Mommy. She didn't sound distressed, so I called back that I'd be there momentarily.

In the minute it took me to finish dressing Lovebug and walk across the hall, something possessed my daughter. She screamed in anger when I opened the door. I offered to shut it so that she could open it herself. She screamed at me to go away. So of course I walked in and asked what was wrong. Lovebug ran into hug her, which resulted in a glare bigger than the one she gave him when he took her kitty.

She is not yet three and I really wasn't prepared for all this adolescent drama. So I started putting away her laundry, hoping she would calm down and tell me what was going on. Instead she and Lovebug began opening and shutting the door (he shutting, her opening) and I could just see the smashed fingers. I told them to stop please. Lovebug headed straight for the books but Ironflower headed straight for me. And then she smacked me. In the face.

Have I ever mentioned that Ironflower has never been smacked? And the only time she has seen a smack is when I've smacked her brother's hand to stop him from pulling her hair? At first I was shocked. First the screaming and now this? Where was my sunny little morning girl?

My second reaction, of course, was anger. I picked her up and put her back on her bed. I said things like, "We don't hit! Our family uses words! You don't hit your mommy!" until I calmed down. While dressing her, I tried again to ascertain what the heck was up with her. No luck.

We did all the hair and toothbrushing and Lovebug and I went downstairs. She finally apologized. I have had no explanation about what was wrong or why she woke up so angry. So I am still completely confused. Who was that child? And what I am going to do if she comes back?

Just Because You're Paranoid Doesn't Mean No One Is Out To Get You

I think Ironflower is going to have to go to a different preschool next year. We had another meltdown at dismissal today, but it wasn't really her fault. Her improvement last week had made us all so happy. I guess I got cocky (why does it have to be cocky? Why can't it be breasty or vulvanic or something?).

My first mistake was allowing Lovebug to come to the gate with me. He was wide awake and I felt so bad leaving him in the car as he said, "Mama, mama, go,". We got out at 11:28 am and strolled to the gate. Lovebug let me carry him in the parking lot and was pretty chill when we got to the playground gate. A few moms even said hi to us.

Ironflower came to the gate and smiled and waved. Instinct told me to grab her right then, but years of teaching made me want to follow the rules. So I told her to go sit with the other kids (the teachers sit them on benches near the gate and then call names to dismiss). That was when the trouble started.

Because Mrs.G didn't notice my daughter behaving appropriately. She didn't notice Lovebug and me standing at the gate. She ignored us. And we waited. And Lovebug wanted to get down. Then he wanted to run away. Then, well, basically he wanted on that playground because Ironflower wasn't coming out.

Ironflower, meanwhile, waited for Mrs. G to call her name. She watched her brother melt down. When ALL the other kids had been dismissed, Mrs. G called to Ironflower. Because Ironflower didn't pop right up, Mrs. G scooped her up and started walking her to the gate. That's when Ironflower started screaming.

Of course we had a nice audience again. This time, though, I didn't even attempt to hold the kids appropriately. As I was about to sprint to the car, minimizing my humiliation time, Lovebug kicked off his shoe. One mom grabbed it and even put it back on for me, as I held onto both kicking and screaming kids. This mom deserves a special place in heaven and someday I will tell her so. Today all she got was an over-the-shoulder "thank you" as I raced to the car.

Lovebug was fine once he was strapped in and hand his talking steering wheel. Not that it didn't require superhuman strength to strap him in. Exhausted, I went to Ironflower's side and asked her what the hell her problem was. (Okay, I didn't say that, exactly, but she knew what I meant). Ironflower had started to cry because she had wanted to walk to me herself and the teacher hadn't let her. She was sad she hadn't gotten to be a big girl.

After Ironflower was safely strapped in, I went back to the playground. The teacher was inside, but the school director was there. I told her the problem. I hope things are better on Thursday. Well, I'll make a big deal out of it if they're not. Part of me thinks I'm paranoid to think Mrs.G doesn't like us, part of me has seen a few teachers who have favorites (those would be the children of all the class mothers who told me how great she is) and not-favorites. And treat them accordingly.

I hope I'm wrong.

Master Manipulator Mommy

As I may have mentioned (here and to every other mother I've talked to in the past two weeks) Ironflower has been having a hard time leaving school. In fact, she has behaved better receiving shots than she has leaving school lately. On Tuesday, even though I made sure to drive around a bit so that Lovebug would fall asleep and thus stay in the car and I brought her juice, when I got to the playground Ironflower reacted the same old way. She screamed "No!" at the sight of me.

I did try not to take it personally. I really did. But I still cried on the way home. Though not as much as last time. I couldn't help it. This resulted in her receiving a rather stern talking to from a sympathetic Hot Guy. And a suggestion for how to react when school is over and Mommy comes to pick her up. But I didn't think it would help enough. So when I put her to bed that night (after I had calmed down considerably), I decided to really talk to her about it. Calmly, like you're supposed to. She couldn't verbalize her feelings, but I did find out (for sure) that it wasn't about me, it WAS that she liked school. So I told her a story about some of her favorite characters that included the whole situation.

And then Shrek, of course, learned to act the way I wished Ironflower would. And they lived happily ever after. I told her the same story Wednesday night. And reminded her of it in the car this morning. Just in conversation, of course. All natural-like. (Thank the Goddess that pre-schoolers thrive on repetitive conversations)

And today, when Ironflower saw me and her teacher began sending kids out of the gate, she smiled and ran to me and gave me a big hug. And I only feel slightly guilty about manipulating her to do so.

Help

So today, even though Lovebug was throwing a major temper tantrum (he really wants to go to school with Ironflower), I managed to accost Ironflower's teacher and quiz her about Ironflower's day. I tried my best to convey my interest, as Lovebug screamed and thrashed in an attempt to get on the playground.

But of course my triumph in convincing the busy and snippy teacher that I'm a devoted mother (I'm a CLASS MOTHER, for heaven's sake - more on that experience later) had to be marred. I remained calm when Ironflower protested about leaving. I remained together as Lovebug threw himself on the ground at the exact moment that Ironflower demanded to be carried to the car. I ignored the fact that our little drama had an in-the-round audience of six mothers and two teachers. I picked Ironflower up after she said please, then struggled to grab Lovebug. Everyone watched in a horrified silence. I muttered comforting words as I tried to drag them to the car. Something like, "I'll get you for this when you have your first date".

I nearly dropped Lovebug when we were about halfway there. He was fighting me that hard (and no, before you ask, mirroring his feelings in a soothing voice was not working). I put Ironflower on the sidewalk and she began crying immediately, "Please carry me, please, please." I wanted to ask her why she hates being carried unless it is horribly inconvenient for me (and no one else), but I decided that her continued wailing might draw more attention to us. Not since seventh grade have I wanted to be invisible so much. Eventually I just gave up on appropriate carrying procedures and just grabbed them like we were running from a fire.

Lovebug fought so hard when I tried to strap him into his car seat that I began to sweat. Ironflower was willing to be strapped in, but she was angry. She really hates leaving school. When I asked her what she'd done that day (loudly, so she could hear me over Lovebug's subsiding screams), she snapped, "I DON'T want to talk to you right now!"

Normally, I would have realized that she was still adjusting to the transition. Normally, I would have laughed. But today I burst into tears. I feel like I have used up all of my tricks and everything just degenerates into a struggle and I am TIRED.

How bad would it be to have a glass of wine during nap time?

There's Something Wrong With One of Us

If I were a Catholic in medieval times, or a tribeswoman of a pre-literate society, I'm pretty sure I would have the local shaman/priest over here performing an exorcism on Lovebug. The fact that I'm an overly literate Unitarian who's thinking about it anyway says volumes. Today, Lovebug screamed and fought so hard during his morning diaper change that he got poop everywhere. Then he threw a fit when his turn to brush his teeth was over (he had put his toothbrush away quite happily, but then he saw that Ironflower was having a turn). He threw a fit going down the stairs because I got too far ahead of him. He screamed and threw his orange juice away at breakfast, then got upset when he couldn't have it.

I know he's only seventeen months old. I know he's a boy. But I think this is ridiculous. His tantrums don't generally work - he still gets changed, his toothbrushing turn is still over - but they're just getting worse. His next fit was about not being able to fit into his toy truck. That one didn't work either. It's not that he gets frustrated a lot. It's not even that he yells a lot. It's that he howls louder over not getting his way than over a shot. If you overheard me changing him when he doesn't feel like it, you'd think I was stabbing him. Normal toddler frustrations elicit not whines and a yell or two, but full blown screaming fits that make me think of demons.

Lovebug is also the most wonderfully affectionate little boy. His smile lights up a room. He can play by himself or share with others with equal joy. He likes to try new foods. He loves to help. I love my son very much, but if he doesn't mellow out soon I'm going to invite the social worker over myself.