If wishes were horses, moms would step in the manure

No matter what, if you actually get something you covet for yourself, you always pay for it, most of the time a lot more than it's worth.

The other day I was feeling all hopped up on Mommy life, things were going well, a fun morning was had by all, then I posted this on Facebook:

Kid #1 at a friend's house, kid #3 down for a nap. Anxiously awaiting kid #2's accidental nap on the couch so I can catch up on the DVR'd stuff inappropriate for children.

Then it all went to hell.

Turns out kid #3 wasn't actually asleep.  She was playing in her bed and when she got tired of that she started yelling for me.  I ignored it, so she decided to just come on downstairs.  After putting her back in the bed she started crying and crying.  I've mentioned before that Violet (kid #2) has many-a-time cried so hard she puked; well, little sister is picking up the slack since she has stopped doing that.  I ran in, but too late, she threw up in her bed.  I lifted her out and sat her on the changing table where she continued to cry and puke.  I took off her clothes, rolled it all up in the filthy changing pad cover and sat her in the bathtub where she cried that she didn't want to take a bath.  Too bad - when there's puke in your hair, you take a bath.

Once she was clean and getting dressed she gave me this exhausted look and said, "Can I take a nap, now?"  like it was my fault that a nap hadn't happened yet.

Meanwhile, Violet had fallen asleep on the couch.  I don't know why I'm always excited when it happens - it's a short term joy.  I got an hour or so to myself but at 10pm when both of the little girls were still fighting bedtime, I wanted to kick myself for letting her fall asleep.

And then there's the big kid who came home from her friends' house tired and in a mood.  She wanted to go for a bike ride with me after dinner but my bike is out of commission awaiting repairs.  She got mad and yelled that she never gets any attention - we only pay attention to the little girls (she's partially right that they get more attention, but hey, she's the only one who can actually wipe her own ass after a poop).  She went on to yell at me about how I pawned her off on somebody else so that I could take the little girls to Build-a-Bear and it just wasn't fair. 

I nearly lost my frigging mind at that point.  That morning I gave her the option of going to her friend's house when they called, but told her what was already planned for the day.  SHE chose to abandon us, not the other way around.  More crying and drama followed so I did the only thing I could think of that didn't involve jail time for me - I put her to bed at 7:30pm. 

I dream that some day I will be able to make it through a whole day without longing to dissolve in tears in the closet.  Ah, crap, I never should've said that out loud, now something terrible is going to happen.

Don't call social services on me....yet

Violet says she wants to be a Mommy like me when she grows up.  When she tells me this I always silently hope that learns from my mistakes.  But I'm not so sure she will...

The other day she was playing with her baby dolls.  I heard her tell one of them she was bad and was going to have to go to jail.  Why, you ask?  Because the baby threw up on her shirt.  Wait, what?  I asked her why she was sending the baby to jail just because she threw up.  "Because Diego [of Dora fame] and I DO NOT like that."  She then proceeded to the trash can and pretended to shake the barf off of her shirt into the trash.

So I'm racking my brain thinking about Violet's most recent barf incident, which was just last week.  It was lovely, she cried out "Daddy" but I answered the call.  She didn't even seem to be really awake when I went in, but then the bed barfing happened.  I got her to the bathroom and called out to Greg for help.  Meanwhile, she coughed more and barfed on the bathroom floor.  I have greatly improved in my ability to handle vomit over the last 3 years, but I guess some of my disgust must still register to her if she's playing these jail games.  But I swear - I've never ever sent her to time out for throwing up.  Although at one of the more traumatic school drop-offs I did tell her to cut it out and stop trying to make herself throw up.

My Mom says that when I was about her age I was playing with my dolls in the back seat of the car and they heard me say, "Shit shit shit, damn damn damn.  I'm gonna beat the blood out of you, Baby."  I'm pretty sure my parents never said anything like that to me - so I guess Violet's play doesn't necessarily reflect my parenting.

It's gonna be a happy new year...part 2

On our drive back from visiting family in NC last Wednesday Violet started complaining about not wanting to go to school.  Five full days before she would actually have to go to school and she only goes two days a week for 4 hours a day.  She's never had a problem with it before.  As a matter of fact I'd get the daily report on who cried when their Mommy left. 

Once she asked me if she should be crying because so many kids were those first couple of weeks.  I asked her if she thought she should, when she said no I replied, "It's because you know Mommy is coming back, right?"  Nope, it was because she didn't miss me. 

So, why, after all this time, is she making such a big deal about it?  The last day before the break she cried and cried (I warned her teachers about the crying = barfing equation) and I left her struggling in her teachers arms.  This morning was much worse.

She cried at home, in the car, and when we got there.  She started coughing and the assistant teacher grabbed a trash can just in case.  I saw she had things under control so I headed down the hallway with Zoey crying because she didn't want to leave.  I'd taken maybe two steps when I the teacher said, "Oh, wait, uh, she's urinating."  I went back in to the classroom to find the poor assistant teacher grabbing for paper towels with Violet standing not just in a pool of pee, but also a puddle of barf. 

Welcome back to reality.

Life is a highway

Why is it the drive home always takes longer than the drive there?  Yesterday's long long long car ride home from Christmas at Grandma's really sort of epitomizes how the rest of the holiday went for us.  There was grumpiness, chaos, comedy and barf.

Here's the scene:  we've just gotten back on the road from our delicious and satisfying Burger King lunch, the big girls are arguing over what DVD they want to watch.  Zoey gives a cry and when I turn to see what the fuss is about she starts spewing all over herself.  Chaos ensues - Zoey is crying.  Greg is trying to decide if we can make it to the next exit before stopping, Lorelei fanning the putrid air and telling us how gross it is.  Violet is coughing and crying, "I don wanna barrrrrrrrf Mommy!"  I'm chanting, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay." 

It was not okay. 

Greg took the first exit we came to, which turned about to be the on-ramp for I-64.  Crap.  So, we cleaned up as much as we could on the ramp between Interstates 81 and 64.  When we finally made it to a Sheetz, I made the quick decision that the outfit Zoey had been wearing was going straight into the trash can.  I pulled the car seat out and we did a more thorough cleaning - we still had a long way to go.  

An hour and 20 minutes later we were back on the right road to home.

A little further down the road, very shortly (and I emphasize the "very") after we'd made a bathroom stop, Violet starts yelling about needing to pee again.  We're on a 2 lane country road with only farms, keep going and going, get on our next road, still nothing, going and going - finally about 20 miles later we come to a town.  I remember from our last trek this way that the gas station on our side had outdoor bathrooms that were really horrifying, so we opt for the 7-11 on the opposite side of the road.  I run in with V, search around.  You are kidding me, no bathroom.  Back in the car and across the side street to the A&W we go.  Run in - Violet starts gushing about how "cute" the bathroom is and is not acting at all like it's urgent.  Gotta tell you - the bathroom was not cute at all.

I am so glad to be at home.  I don't know when we'll be making our next car trip, but it's going to be a little while. 

Roses are red, Violets are pukey

I spent about half of my leisure hours (the 2 hours after the kids are in bed before I collapse) last night cleaning barf out of a toddler bed and the carpet.  As always, it was just lovely.  Violet has always had a hair trigger gag reflex - a cold with coughing leads to barfing; water going down the wrong way leads to coughing then barfing; extended crying leads to coughing, then barfing.  I've seen more barf than any one person should have to bear.  If you think about it, though - it's the perfect defense.  We tell her no about anything, she cries, she barfs.  She is conditioning us to avoid any sort of confrontation with her. 

Last night's barf wasn't a behavioral thing - just an old fashioned cold with cough. 

Thursday is ballet day, but last week Violet threw a fit and didn't want to go.  I bribed her with a trip to Touche Touchet afterward which worked well enough to get her to the studio, but not enough to actually go in.  "We're not going to the bakery if you don't dance."  "I don't care - I don't want to go to the bakery."  Damn!  I wanted a cupcake.

By Tuesday afternoon this week she was already campaigning against going to dance today.  Husband and I discussed it and decided I would force her to go in the hopes that once she was there and dancing she would remember how much she liked it.  Somehow, she went along with it (after some crying and a few gagging scares), but she said, "If I don't like it I don't have to go anymore." 

She tapped for about 90 seconds before running to me and declaring that she does not like it.  We sat together and watched her lone classmate tap (for some reason 3/5ths of the class was absent).  When it was time to switch to ballet slippers she would have nothing to do with it.  I finally just gave up and left.  Maybe I would've pushed a little harder if we weren't going to pick a friend up at the airport, but whatever.

What's going to happen next week?  I'm pretty sure there will be more fits, so how hard should I push my 3-year-old to participate in a dance class that she suddenly dislikes?  And how difficult is it to get vomit out of a tutu?