This Is A Fun Stage…

Up until this year, things were relatively easy.  Easy being a term I’m using QUITE loosely… but overall… I’ve only cried alone in my closet about 3 times.  I call that a success by any mom’s standards living in a 2-child household.

But 4… I can already tell is a whole new ball game in which there are no F-ing books to prepare you.  Oh yeah… do a whole series on newborns and 1st year when they don’t have thoughts or opinions and manic-style reasoning!  I refuse to say that having a newborn was hard.  Not anymore!  You’re tired… REALLY tired… like there isn’t even a proper word to explain how tired.  You wear vomit and baby excrement like perfume and think of showering like a rare, expensive vacation.

There was one thing that happened that was apparently perfectly normal for girl babies that NOBODY thought it important to warn me about… but aside from that panicked 2am ER phone call… things went pretty much as expected.

2-3 was…eh… sassy?  Lots of attitude and never at times that there should be one.  Improper conversation at mortifying loud volumes in public places… but again… expected… I can laugh about it now however, I still can’t talk about potty training without feeling a tightness in my chest and the immediate urge to claw for a fresh bottle of wine… or a 3-day-old, almost soured 1/2 glass… whichever is available.  Then there was that time Diem bit Cori …in the face.  Not cool.

Powdergate was also pretty bad.

But all in all!… nothing TOO bad!

Four tho…

Cori is a relatively good kid.  She’s thoughtful and kind, but we have entered a world where we deal with 469687 emotional breakdowns daily.  Nothing worthy either! A soggy cheerio or a glitching Netflix show or being told not to do something douchey to her sister… but I don’t necessarily pride myself on having kids who are always well behaved…. Moreso that they make me look like a really “together” mom in public.  Keep up those appearances little ladies!

That was before Feb 3, 2018 which jump started “The year of the 4s”.

There’s this whole of tug-of-war which involves a see-saw of manipulation on both sides.

She’s definitely had to be punished before but, because she’s so young, the punishment wouldn’t last too long.  She REALLY knows how to turn up that cuteness factor and we almost always caved.  Which is horrible parenting – like I’m pretty sure that would be Rule #1 if they had a damn rule book… someone should make one… can someone tell those know-it-all moms to get together on that shit?  Put their know-it-all-y-ness to some good use?

Actually, nevermind… I’d develop a more severe wine problem reading through that and gain an even more severe headache from all the eye rolling I’d do.  It’s a joke to thing every child is created the same… they develop their own special ways to screw with you.  Catering to your specific triggers.

But, I digress…

Last week, I took the girls out to bathe the dog.  They played and tra-la-la’d around all cute and sisterly until my neighbor walked over and they morphed into fucking hell demons from the center of the Earth.  Everyone started SOBBING for no reason.

I’m not being facetious… there was no reason.

Then they were fighting over a scooter… of which they EACH have their OWN.  Then Cori is on this kick where she doesn’t want to bring her toys back in the garage when it’s time to go inside… and after that display of dickness, I was making them go in early.  SO!  After it took a good 10 extra minutes to convince Cori that her arms were not, in fact, broken and she could bring her own bike in… she was informed her iPad privileges had been revoked.

BOO-YAH!  I win you little troll.

Cue the mindfuckery.

She initially accepted her fate.  She stands at the island as I quietly prepare dinner, scolding myself for not drinking wine that week because after that display… I REALLY could have used a glass.  I’m about to plate her food when I hear it…

“Mom… I’ll be great for you.”

I couldn’t look at her.  If you’ve met her, you know her voice is tiny and angelic (absolutely NOT like it was 15 mins before)…adorable.  It’s adorable.  But I knew I couldn’t give in…

“I’ll be so great, Mom!  I won’t be sassy anymore!  I just love you so so much!”

THIS… is God’s test for women.  Not childbirth… it’s standing up to your 4-year-old who has learned the craft of domination.  A 4-year-old who understands how to tug at a depleted mother’s heartstrings and break her with kindness and affection.  A child who can shed personalities like something I’ve never seen.

Then we have a rare outing with my husband where they both decided they didn’t like quesadillas – Diem mainly just following in her sisters footsteps… which is just blasphemy on all counts.  No amount of mom begging would change their minds… yet DAD comes in and legit pretends to sprinkle fucking magic on their food and within 15 minutes they cleaned their plates.

THIS is the hard part of being a mom.  The actual parenting part mixed with the part where we learn our kids are figuring us out.  The part where we have to make that choice between giving up and standing strong and knowing which words will entice our children to obey us.  Nobody wants to be the bad guy… but with kids eating tide pods these days…. I firmly believe it’s our job to toughen them up and force them to act right.  Or at least try to.

But – it would be REALLY nice to know which of her 75 personalities I’ll be working with.