Let me start by irritating a whole bunch of people and stating that I don’t really like the whole “Mommy Blogging” genre where parents connect in commiserating over how badly their children all behave. I don’t find blogs that all it seems to be about is children misbehaving entertaining, to say the least.
But this is my blog, and I’ll Mommy-Whine if I wanna. So if you don’t like mommy-whining either, you can read how to plant sweet potato slips or make Bailey’s Bars.
See? Something for everyone here.
This post is mostly due to the fact that I had to take my daughter shoeless and jacketless out the door this afternoon to pick up her big brother, since she refused to do anything but have a temper tantrum over that so-happy-I-want-to-puke-schmuck–and-boy-do-I-wanna-make-a-cape-outta-that-monkey- Dora on the TV.
Kicking, screaming, t-shirt and no shoes all the way to the van, and we were still late picking up the boy.
And now that she’s finally asleep, I am wondering if I can find a exorcist in the Yellow Pages.
Would that be under E for exorcist or P for priest?
She’s just Bad lately. And not cool bad, like Micheal Jackson “I’m Bad” but bad as in I have been desperately searching online for a boarding preschool.
Anyone know of a good one?
I love her, oh do I love that spunky, fiery girl, but in the last week she has:
1) Locked me out of the house when I popped into the backyard. Good thing I have a spare key outside.
2) Taken the craft scissors to her hair when Mike was outside and chopped off a chunk.
3) Lipped off her preschool teacher so thoroughly that her teacher actually had to talk to me about it. This would be the teacher she was scared of when her brother went to preschool.
4) Locked the cat in the TV cabinet. Seriously. My dad heard the cat meowing under the mother-bleeping TV and let her out.
5) Taken pink paint to the bathroom upstairs and dumped it in the sink.
6) At the same time, took Grandpa’s aftershave, put some on, dumped some in the sink, and told me happily that she “smelled like an old man.”
It’s the totally funny shiz like that, that allows her to survive. Smells like an old man.
At least she told Papa that she left him some aftershave in the bottle. Kind little soul, isn’t she?
I thought things would get better after three, the horrible, horrible three’s.
Her evil just gets trickier.
I need a vacation from parenting STAT.
Or a boatload of those Bailey’s bars.
Without the bars part.