look at G! that smug little turd!
waiting for AAA.
today was a day. and it's not even over yet. it's only 3:26 p.m. and i'm sitting in my bed googling "why is my two-year-old an asshole?"
it all started with the Legos. the god. damned. Legos. Gemcake wanted to play with them. great! so we got them out and started playing. as with most things, after 6 seconds she grew bored and started kicking them around the living room. i told her if she was done, she needed to clean them up, not kick them. which obviously only made her kick them harder. i told her if she didn't start cleaning them up, then she would get a time out. *continues kicking Legos* off to time out. where she screamed and screamed and screamed. and got up and walked over and screamed in my face. back to time out. more screaming. etc. etc. etc. the windows were open this whole time (come to think of it, this may be the reason why our neighbors with the young baby are so standoffish. OH JUST YOU WAIT, NEIGHBORS. YOUR CUTE LITTLE BABY WILL TURN INTO AN ASSHOLE, TOO). 25 minutes later, after she had finally placed the last Lego in the basket, she was ready to get dressed for the day.
next item on our agenda was an innocent trip to sephora. you see, i had accidentally left my little plastic bag filled with "liquids, gels and aerosols" behind at security in the airport yesterday. what an idiot! in that little plastic bag was my foundation! MY FOUNDATION YOU GUYS! foundation is one modern luxury that i cannot live without, so off we went to buy some more. once we hit the freeway, my tire pressure light came on. not 20 seconds later, my front driver's side tire was completely flat. so i yelled, pulled over and pounded the steering wheel with my fists and cried. G was very concerned, and sweetly said, "your tire broken, mama?! OHHH NOOOOO!" then i put on my hazards and called AAA to come and rescue me. which they did, and the man was very nice and let me and Gemma stay in the car and sing songs while he changed my tire. he also caught Cleo and saved her dumb ass from sure death when she leapt out of the trunk as he was getting the spare tire out.
Gemma was very polite to him, and shouted "thank you, man!" out the window to him when he finished, and i was proud of her sweet little self for being so considerate. GOD, L. YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD MOM FOR TEACHING GEMMA SUCH WONDERFUL MANNERS!!! THIS DAY HAS REALLY TURNED AROUND! YOU ARE RAISING AN ANGEL AFTER ALL!
we pulled into the mall parking lot, and i couldn't decide if i should get the stroller out or not. i decided against it, reasoning that G would be just fine to walk to sephora and back by herself. WRONG, SO WRONG. when given the choice of toddler freedom and a wonderful invention that literally traps the child to a seat that is easily pushed, one must always choose the latter. Gemstorm refused to hold my hand "no! i hold my own hand, mommy!" and walked at a snail's pace the entire way to the makeup store. at one point i picked her up to hurry things along, and she kicked and screamed and punched and spit in my face. i mean, SO rude.
she threw a fit in sephora when i wouldn't let her steal a purple eyeshadow. like, no. c'mon, you can't just shoplift, Gemma Julianne! i ended up dragging her to the car because she lifted her feet and refused to walk when i made her hold my hand. it was a chilly and rainy morning in Seattle, but i was sweating like a warthog in Africa by the time we got back to the car.
we got home and i asked her if she needed to tinkle in her potty, to which she replied "no." i headed to the toilet myself. she followed me in there as she always does, then proceeded to stare coldly and directly into my eyes as she peed on the brand-new bathroom rug. WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK?! like, i cannot even deal.
i was entirely over her bullshit antics at this point. so i put her down for a nap.
30 minutes later i heard her kicking the wall. i went in to check on her and saw that she had decided to rip up the (beautiful and expensive) dream catcher that is hanging above her bed.
there are terrible things happening in this world. absolutely terrible things. i know this. and i try and remember to count my blessings when things are shitty for me. because things are a lot shittier for others. but sometimes, when all i see is red rage, it's easy to forget those blessings. namely, The Blessing of a tiny human whose fault it is that i'm pissed off in the first place. i love my little girl very dearly, but my GOD is she an asshole. sometimes i find myself frantically scouring amazon for parenting books for The Answer, but there isn't one. i've just got to shut the hell up and continue to try my best to raise a decent person.
cheers to the parents of assholes everywhere.