She's napping! She's napping!! She's napping!!!
(She hasn't napped in ages)
Oh thank God! If that child doesn't wake up with a more pleasant demeanor I probably won't make it to 8 pm.
She has been soooo difficult lately. I choose the word difficult because I don't want to call her names like "witchy" or "heinous". Yes, she turned three at the end of September. Yes, I've heard all about how age three is worse than two, (pretty much anytime I was venting about how tough she was at two. Thanks). But I mean, come ON. Everything is a fight! Every ridiculous teeny thing is a gigantic challenge. Right down to which stories we read at bedtime. I understand that she wants to control everything - as do I. I understand it's all about her growing and changing and developing her personality, blah blah blah. Just cut the shit already, kid! And speaking of shit - use the damned toilet will ya? As my ever-expanding pregnant stomach presses harder against the changing table, your flailing arms and legs punch and kick just as hard. You're too big for that table! It's meant for dainty little pea pods not thirty-five pound, thirty-nine inch long children. I can barely hoist you up there, it's getting out of hand. And your diapers don't come any larger and if they DID I couldn't carry a box that large. Any WHY are you awake already!!??!?!?!!
Ugh. My joyous quiet time has ended. But first, a story before I go...
This morning I brought home some new pink cowboy boots for her. She immediately started to try them on. I saw her struggling so I let her know there is velcro that allows for easier access. She threw them across the room. She asked if they are rain boots. I replied that they are cowboy/girl boots. She said, "Humph, well IIIIIIIIIIII wanted rain boots." Umm, no. First off, Veruca, there was no mentioning of a new boot of any kind coming into this house today. I took it upon myself to purchase a product that I thought you would like as a kind surprise. You threw said product across the room. I gathered the friggin boots and put them away stating that I would give them to another girl who would love and be grateful for them. One hour later she put the boots on and paraded around in them happy as a clam.
And THAT, my friends, is age three... barely two weeks in.
Showing posts with label tantrums. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tantrums. Show all posts
October 6, 2014
September 23, 2014
The Scarlett Letters: The Third Birthday
On September 24th you will officially be Three Years Old.
Man alive.
It really is insane how quickly time passes when you're watching your baby grow up.
This past year has been filled with some amazing moments... and some incredibly challenging ones. So, Scarlett, here is a glimpse of YOU becoming a three year old ...
1. You love to play outside and get FILTHY. And I mean F I L T H Y. Like, 'dumping dirt over your head, scraping what's left of your fingernails deep into the earth, filling your shoes and socks with pebbles and sand' filthy.
2. You're kinda fresh. You love the word, "no" and will use it as many times as you see fit. If I say something is black, it's white to you. You're stubborn as the day is long. Your mind is made up about everyyyyyyyyyyyyything and there's no changing it. You cannot be fooled. You cannot be bribed. You're a know-it-all. If I say, "go put on your shoes" you come back with, "they're not shoes, they're sandals." Your personality is incredible. You're a funny little character. You always have people laughing... you're my little scamp.
3. You watch a little too much Peppa Pig and may or may not be developing a British accent. You say things like, "This is an ice-lolly" when it's clearly a popsicle. You call a flashlight a torch and vacation a holiday. I'm trying to rectify the situation but you just love that show. Meanwhile you're turning into a mini Madonna with that accent.
4. You repeat things that your pregnant mommy shouts in anger at the dog. Most begin with the letter F.
5. Bedtime is a big ole game to you. As you settle into bed you love to have your routine which goes something like this:
I grab a tissue and we blow the noses of five of your stuffed animals. I then kiss those animals. I kiss and hug you. We do Eskimo-noses. You ask me a question. You tell me a secret by whispering nothing and then I have to come up with some crazy statement that you may have used as a secret. Sometimes my statement is unacceptable. We do that about seven to ten times as I inch my way out the door trying to distract you with, "ok, goodnight, love you"s. IF you are satisfied with our ritual you will play with your little animal friends for about an hour to an hour and a half before falling asleep. If our routine was unsatisfactory you will cry, whine and scream for the same amount of time.
6. You still have your favorite foods: Peanut butter and jelly, scrambled eggs, fruit, yogurt, cereal and soup. You are branching out more by saying, "surprise me!" when asked what you'd like for a meal. Chicken quesadillas are becoming a fast favorite.
7. You absolutely LOVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVE kitties. All things kitty. Your hands are kitties at times. You meow all the time. You become a kitty when you're threatened (which by the way is going to get you nowhere).
8. You get pissed. A lot. You're way of dealing with being frustrated is to cram your hand down your throat until you gag, blow your nose in your hand and bang your head on the floor. Daddy and I basically tell you how ridiculous you look and you get over it.
9. You love story time and are currently obsessed with The Little Critter Collection. I read all seven stories pretty much every night.
10. You are finally letting go and allowing yourself to be more silly. I used to call you "Scarlett P. Keaton" (remember Alex from Family Ties? Really showing my age here). You would never dance around with me or Daddy, you'd look at us like we were nuts - kinda the same way an eighty-seven year old man might look at a saggy-jeaned wanna-be thug. Lately, however, you've been dancing around with us - or by yourself, it's refreshing.
You are really a delightful little girl, so very special to all who know you. Sure, you are very challenging, but I don't think there's a three year old out there who isn't. You are smart as a whip and funny as they come. We are really looking forward to seeing you slide into the 'big sister' role.
May God bless you, sweet Scarlett. Happy third birthday to you!
February 8, 2014
red dye 40 and Scarlett ...
I'm sharing this story because I feel that it may help some other parents out there who haven't heard about this very real issue. The story is my own personal experience, I haven't done a harrowing amount of research on the matter but what I have read, what I now know and what I've seen are enough for me. Listen up...
A few months ago Scarlett began acting out in ways that Gregg and I had never seen. Often at dinner time she would throw fits, flip like a switch and shout and scream uncontrollably. We thought here we go, the terrible twos at their best. But as the days went on I started to feel like these episodes were more than just typical temper tantrums. I remembered an article I had read a year or two before about food dyes causing behavioral problems in children that were sensitive to them. Particularly red dye 40. So I experimented. I checked every jar, bottle, box and bag in the kitchen and the only two items containing red dye 40 were Froot Loops and Flintstone's vitamins. I eliminated them. Almost immediately we saw a positive change in Scarlett's behavior. Less irrational outbursts, less defiance and no more demon-screaming. It was something but I wasn't one hundred percent convinced the dyes and the episodes were related. I know about the roller coaster of the terrible twos and knew we could have been riding the peak at the moment.
Two nights ago the "demon" returned.
I was midway through Scarlett's bedtime routine, past book-reading and onto song-singing. When I started to rest her in the crib- as I do nightly- all hell broke loose. She stood up ferociously, back against the crib rail, eyes bugged out wide and screamed from her gut at the top of her lungs in a gravely sound that I had never ever heard before. I was honestly scared. For a split second I wondered if my child was possessed - I'm not kidding. This episode continued for close to forty-five minutes. I was able to calm her down for short periods of time but as she was calming and trying to focus on a song or just talking to me she would spew out those horrid screams intermittently - it was as though she had no control over them. That's what I kept thinking, She isn't in control of her emotions/actions right now. And I wondered what was in control.
Gregg finished the job by tagging in, rocking her and placing her back in the crib. While she did scream and cry for a few minutes, the horror show was over.
The next morning my mother sent me a text, horrified by the fact that she may have unknowingly caused that drama. After wracking her brain trying to think of what Scarlett had eaten at her house the day of the episode, she realized she had given Scarlett Jello after dinner. Red Jello. She remembered me mentioning the red dye article months before. We were in shock. For me, that is plenty of proof that my little girl is absolutely "sensitive" to artificial bullshit dyes that shouldn't be in foods in the first place.
I read a few more articles and I'm not going to quote or link to any here - if you want to do the research you can. I know people have very strong views on matters like this. I've seen enough to know the deal. While I give Scarlett mostly organic foods as it is, I am making even more conscious decisions at the grocery store. Eyes are wide open. The fact that we have something like seventy-five percent of children diagnosed with ADHD in the country always sounded bizarre to me. I think we all need to take a look in our cupboards and do some experimenting before we pull the 'hyperactivity' trigger. These dyes are found in nearly everything! Pudding, frozen treats, fruit snacks, juice, fruit punch, yogurt, cereals, chips, crackers, processed meats, candy - just to name a few. The change in Scarlett's behavior was frightening. She became a different child. To think that parents go through these episodes on a regular basis not knowing that there may be a simple way to turn it all around - it's mind-blowing.
If you suspect that your child's tantrums or fits are out of the ordinary, I urge you to look into this. I am just so thankful that I made the connection early on - before we got into more dangerous situations.
A few months ago Scarlett began acting out in ways that Gregg and I had never seen. Often at dinner time she would throw fits, flip like a switch and shout and scream uncontrollably. We thought here we go, the terrible twos at their best. But as the days went on I started to feel like these episodes were more than just typical temper tantrums. I remembered an article I had read a year or two before about food dyes causing behavioral problems in children that were sensitive to them. Particularly red dye 40. So I experimented. I checked every jar, bottle, box and bag in the kitchen and the only two items containing red dye 40 were Froot Loops and Flintstone's vitamins. I eliminated them. Almost immediately we saw a positive change in Scarlett's behavior. Less irrational outbursts, less defiance and no more demon-screaming. It was something but I wasn't one hundred percent convinced the dyes and the episodes were related. I know about the roller coaster of the terrible twos and knew we could have been riding the peak at the moment.
Two nights ago the "demon" returned.
I was midway through Scarlett's bedtime routine, past book-reading and onto song-singing. When I started to rest her in the crib- as I do nightly- all hell broke loose. She stood up ferociously, back against the crib rail, eyes bugged out wide and screamed from her gut at the top of her lungs in a gravely sound that I had never ever heard before. I was honestly scared. For a split second I wondered if my child was possessed - I'm not kidding. This episode continued for close to forty-five minutes. I was able to calm her down for short periods of time but as she was calming and trying to focus on a song or just talking to me she would spew out those horrid screams intermittently - it was as though she had no control over them. That's what I kept thinking, She isn't in control of her emotions/actions right now. And I wondered what was in control.
Gregg finished the job by tagging in, rocking her and placing her back in the crib. While she did scream and cry for a few minutes, the horror show was over.
The next morning my mother sent me a text, horrified by the fact that she may have unknowingly caused that drama. After wracking her brain trying to think of what Scarlett had eaten at her house the day of the episode, she realized she had given Scarlett Jello after dinner. Red Jello. She remembered me mentioning the red dye article months before. We were in shock. For me, that is plenty of proof that my little girl is absolutely "sensitive" to artificial bullshit dyes that shouldn't be in foods in the first place.
I read a few more articles and I'm not going to quote or link to any here - if you want to do the research you can. I know people have very strong views on matters like this. I've seen enough to know the deal. While I give Scarlett mostly organic foods as it is, I am making even more conscious decisions at the grocery store. Eyes are wide open. The fact that we have something like seventy-five percent of children diagnosed with ADHD in the country always sounded bizarre to me. I think we all need to take a look in our cupboards and do some experimenting before we pull the 'hyperactivity' trigger. These dyes are found in nearly everything! Pudding, frozen treats, fruit snacks, juice, fruit punch, yogurt, cereals, chips, crackers, processed meats, candy - just to name a few. The change in Scarlett's behavior was frightening. She became a different child. To think that parents go through these episodes on a regular basis not knowing that there may be a simple way to turn it all around - it's mind-blowing.
If you suspect that your child's tantrums or fits are out of the ordinary, I urge you to look into this. I am just so thankful that I made the connection early on - before we got into more dangerous situations.
January 15, 2014
The Scarlett Letters: let's get a few things straight...
Dearest Lemon-pie,
WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME??
Eh, I'm half kidding. Let's just say you've been "testy" lately ... and trying every ounce of patience I have. Some days I'm not sure who's winning. It seems that you believe that I am winning and I believe that you are winning. So we battle harder.
Let's clear up a few things...
You are 27 months old. How is it that you are strutting around the house like you just paid off the mortgage? You're constantly throwing your things everywhere, tossing food on the ground like this is some half-assed diner. Demanding diaper changes, snacks and Mickey videos. Listen up, kid, I run the show.
If I say we are drying your hair post-bath so your teeth will stop chattering - it's happening.
When I tell you to stop using the television screen as an easel - STOP IT.
When I put dinner in front of you which you refuse to eat and you immediately pull the pin on your little grenade - you aren't getting your wish of cookies, your alternate option is yogurt or nothing.
Just because I accidentally zipped your skin in your jacket ONE TIME doesn't mean that every zipper is going to ruin your life. I SAID I WAS SORRY, CRIPES !!! Let it go, kid.
When you flail around like a lunatic during our bedtime rocking/reading session it only makes me shorten the ritual. I feel like Danny DeVito trying to rock Shaq up there. You are clearly longer than my lap and legs, I know it's awkward - I can't stretch out like taffy so please try to settle in and just enjoy it. I'm pretty sure that glider is about to collapse any day now anyway.
When it's nap time and you run into the corner I can still see you. I will come get you, peel you from the floor and carry your arched body to the crib. It's going to happen.
When you decide that you can't handle the skin from the tomatoes or that you don't like blueberries today you needn't hand me every single unacceptable morsel to be taken to the trash that very moment - you can keep them on your plate until meal time is over.
You cannot eat all of the marshmallows out of the cereal canister. Mallow Oats will simply be OATS if you do that. Trust me, it's better this way.
Stop sticking your head through the bannister. Just stop it.
The staircase is not a place to put on a jazz show. Just move your bum up the stairs and don't worry about who carries blanky and who carries bunny. We will all be together again in fifteen seconds.
I always love you. Even when you're driving me mad because you refuse to have your nails clipped and I have to go sit in the other room on the couch for two minutes and breathe- I love you. When you roll over on the changing table like an alligator nailing its prey because I'm trying to get the "floofies" out of your nose and you've got some kind of mental block against tissues and q-tips - I love you. When you throw rocks at the glass door - I love you. When you take it upon yourself to get the chapstick out of the "do not enter" drawer - I love you.
It is apparent that you are going to fight me on everything for the next couple of years and I'm going to do my best to mentally (and physically) prepare myself. (Think: running bleachers and meditation). You're beyond stubborn. Potty training will most definitely have me rocking in a corner somewhere. But I love you. You're my wonderful, smart, adorably funny little girl. You're going to be a huge challenge but it's alright - we will get through it.
xo
Mama
WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME??
Eh, I'm half kidding. Let's just say you've been "testy" lately ... and trying every ounce of patience I have. Some days I'm not sure who's winning. It seems that you believe that I am winning and I believe that you are winning. So we battle harder.
Let's clear up a few things...
You are 27 months old. How is it that you are strutting around the house like you just paid off the mortgage? You're constantly throwing your things everywhere, tossing food on the ground like this is some half-assed diner. Demanding diaper changes, snacks and Mickey videos. Listen up, kid, I run the show.
If I say we are drying your hair post-bath so your teeth will stop chattering - it's happening.
When I tell you to stop using the television screen as an easel - STOP IT.
When I put dinner in front of you which you refuse to eat and you immediately pull the pin on your little grenade - you aren't getting your wish of cookies, your alternate option is yogurt or nothing.
Just because I accidentally zipped your skin in your jacket ONE TIME doesn't mean that every zipper is going to ruin your life. I SAID I WAS SORRY, CRIPES !!! Let it go, kid.
When you flail around like a lunatic during our bedtime rocking/reading session it only makes me shorten the ritual. I feel like Danny DeVito trying to rock Shaq up there. You are clearly longer than my lap and legs, I know it's awkward - I can't stretch out like taffy so please try to settle in and just enjoy it. I'm pretty sure that glider is about to collapse any day now anyway.
When it's nap time and you run into the corner I can still see you. I will come get you, peel you from the floor and carry your arched body to the crib. It's going to happen.
When you decide that you can't handle the skin from the tomatoes or that you don't like blueberries today you needn't hand me every single unacceptable morsel to be taken to the trash that very moment - you can keep them on your plate until meal time is over.
You cannot eat all of the marshmallows out of the cereal canister. Mallow Oats will simply be OATS if you do that. Trust me, it's better this way.
Stop sticking your head through the bannister. Just stop it.
The staircase is not a place to put on a jazz show. Just move your bum up the stairs and don't worry about who carries blanky and who carries bunny. We will all be together again in fifteen seconds.
I always love you. Even when you're driving me mad because you refuse to have your nails clipped and I have to go sit in the other room on the couch for two minutes and breathe- I love you. When you roll over on the changing table like an alligator nailing its prey because I'm trying to get the "floofies" out of your nose and you've got some kind of mental block against tissues and q-tips - I love you. When you throw rocks at the glass door - I love you. When you take it upon yourself to get the chapstick out of the "do not enter" drawer - I love you.
It is apparent that you are going to fight me on everything for the next couple of years and I'm going to do my best to mentally (and physically) prepare myself. (Think: running bleachers and meditation). You're beyond stubborn. Potty training will most definitely have me rocking in a corner somewhere. But I love you. You're my wonderful, smart, adorably funny little girl. You're going to be a huge challenge but it's alright - we will get through it.
xo
Mama
October 18, 2013
It's JUST a headband, get over yourself
I am at a loss.
Truly.
I have never in my life heard of a child refusing to dress up for Halloween. I know all about the "terrible twos" (and "heinous threes" I've recently learned of) but even in the most ridiculous of tantrum stories I don't ever recall hearing that the idea of dressing up to get candy was cause for a meltdown.
This kid is a rare breed. She is newly two. She is very strong willed, stubborn, bold, what have you. She's a gal who knows what she wants... and what she doesn't. I'm happy with that on a normal basis, it's nice that she's so aware of her ability to control certain aspects of her life. It's a daily struggle, no doubt, but it's a positive one (or so I think). However, over the past few weeks I've been teaching Scarlett about having fun on Halloween. After reading books and watching little cartoons to help prove my point she finally seemed on board with wearing a costume. She began telling strangers that she was going to be Mickey. News to me. I was ecstatic to create my little Punky Brewster - oh well. So I semi-willingly hunted around for a Mickey Mouse costume. Since it's kind of last minute, I came up short.
I know that there is a 97% chance that Scarlett will refuse her costume. Rather than spending a fortune ordering some elaborate plush nightmare online I decided to throw something together from her closet that we can use in a pinch if she changes her mind. Oh, that's right, it's pretty lame. But let's face it - the mouse isn't exactly a complex character - a little red, a little black (sounds like my high school nights) and some ears. Presto.
There it is. In all its homemade glory. To my surprise, Scarlett was very excited when she saw this monstrosity. I thought WOW! She's actually going to wear this! Yeah, no. She's not. After several horrifying attempts to put these simple items (pants, socks and a jacket) on her - I decided we will wait until next year to have Halloween fun. You cannot even imagine the fireworks when I bring that headband within seven feet of her. It's absolutely mind-blowing.
So... I've dismantled the pieces, put them back in her drawers and let the topic drop. Everyday Scarlett insists that she wants to wear a costume. I call bullshit.
I can't press the issue because it's really not a big deal. So she doesn't want to look like something she's not (for an hour). She doesn't need bags of candy - if she wanted candy she'd have sat on her potty chair by now. I'm learning to pick my battles. It is so not worth seeing her through another tantrum just to TRY to put a headband on her thick little head. So here's my solution...
Truly.
I have never in my life heard of a child refusing to dress up for Halloween. I know all about the "terrible twos" (and "heinous threes" I've recently learned of) but even in the most ridiculous of tantrum stories I don't ever recall hearing that the idea of dressing up to get candy was cause for a meltdown.
This kid is a rare breed. She is newly two. She is very strong willed, stubborn, bold, what have you. She's a gal who knows what she wants... and what she doesn't. I'm happy with that on a normal basis, it's nice that she's so aware of her ability to control certain aspects of her life. It's a daily struggle, no doubt, but it's a positive one (or so I think). However, over the past few weeks I've been teaching Scarlett about having fun on Halloween. After reading books and watching little cartoons to help prove my point she finally seemed on board with wearing a costume. She began telling strangers that she was going to be Mickey. News to me. I was ecstatic to create my little Punky Brewster - oh well. So I semi-willingly hunted around for a Mickey Mouse costume. Since it's kind of last minute, I came up short.
I know that there is a 97% chance that Scarlett will refuse her costume. Rather than spending a fortune ordering some elaborate plush nightmare online I decided to throw something together from her closet that we can use in a pinch if she changes her mind. Oh, that's right, it's pretty lame. But let's face it - the mouse isn't exactly a complex character - a little red, a little black (sounds like my high school nights) and some ears. Presto.
There it is. In all its homemade glory. To my surprise, Scarlett was very excited when she saw this monstrosity. I thought WOW! She's actually going to wear this! Yeah, no. She's not. After several horrifying attempts to put these simple items (pants, socks and a jacket) on her - I decided we will wait until next year to have Halloween fun. You cannot even imagine the fireworks when I bring that headband within seven feet of her. It's absolutely mind-blowing.
So... I've dismantled the pieces, put them back in her drawers and let the topic drop. Everyday Scarlett insists that she wants to wear a costume. I call bullshit.
I can't press the issue because it's really not a big deal. So she doesn't want to look like something she's not (for an hour). She doesn't need bags of candy - if she wanted candy she'd have sat on her potty chair by now. I'm learning to pick my battles. It is so not worth seeing her through another tantrum just to TRY to put a headband on her thick little head. So here's my solution...
Happy Halloween 2013!!!
January 2, 2013
The Scarlett Letters: #11: we've taken a turn
Apparently at age thirteen months, along with your molars, you found your inner deviant. Now, at fifteen months, you are nurturing the crap out of said deviant.
Don't get me wrong, there is still way more good than bad. You aren't a "bad girl" you are just a little fresh. We are working very hard to make sure that you don't become that cute little girl who appears to be a spoiled brat. Because you aren't spoiled. In fact, you almost never get your way these days. Mostly because your way means: touching the television, grabbing handfuls of dog-food, pulling your clothes out of your dresser drawers, taking diapers from the trash, standing on anything unstable, throwing food and sippy cups, throwing toys at the dog, playing with the humidifiers, occasionally hitting and most recently - and the most unacceptable of them all - biting.
We got our first glimpse at your darling, little temper on our trip to the Christmas tree farm. Sure, you loved strolling around the fields in the cold, fresh air but when we attempted to get you back into the Jeep you flipped your switch. The back-arching, the stiff body, the scream-crying. The whole shebang. Through it all, we crammed your flailing and livid body into that car seat, strapped you in and continued on our way. Once defeated, you sniveled up your last whimpers and got over it. So, that scenario revealed our previously unknown method and motto - it's going to happen, so get over it.
That has been your only full-blown tantrum to date. You've since resorted to lots of, "no-no-no-noooo"s, tears and your tricky piranha moves. The biting is actually pissing me off. I can deal with the food-flinging and the crying and the jelly legs but the biting is officially my least favorite. We are dealing with it, however, and it's not going to last long, Missy!! You hear me?! (wink wink)
No matter the mood, you are always the most amazing part of every day and night for me and for your Dada. Your laugh is so stinkin' cute we will do anything to hear it. That mouthful of teeth - while dangerous as hell - is just the most darling jack-o-lanterny display I've ever seen. I continue to take an insane amount of pictures of you every day maybe just because you look so cute in your pants or because your eyes look an even brighter shade of blue in that pink sweater then they did yesterday in the gray one. We had a blast playing with you in the snow for the very first time this past weekend. You couldn't get enough of being pulled around in your sled or the mouth-numbing bites of snow you kept taking. Thank God for video and photographs. We'll never forget that day.
You aren't a good napper but you sleep like an angel all night. Your mealtimes are messy but you always eat your vegetables. Your attention span is super short but you learn an immense amount every day. You sometimes try to bite me when you're angry but you always kiss me goodnight. You're my sweetheart.
Love forever,
Mama xo
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