I’ve reached a crossroads in my parenting life. My two-year-old daughter, an angel since
birth, has become more annoying than my son. She is extremely demanding, relentless and very, very loud. It’s like living with Shannen Doherty
without volume control or the ability to take “no” for an answer.
This recent graduation into full-blown toddlerdom has caused
me wax nostalgic about my son’s baby years. He used to be angelic. I used to
look at other children taunting their parents with blatant disobedience
thinking, “what did they do to that kid?” I was so grateful to have been blessed with a child (all of 6 months
old) who was so well behaved with such a calm, passive disposition. Boy, was I in for a rude awakening. Just tonight, I talked to my husband about
"that demon living under our roof” in reference to my son.
Things change. I
realize this now but apparently I did not learn my lesson the first time around. Just three weeks ago I had myself convinced
wholeheartedly that my daughter was going to miraculously skip the toddler
stage. She was, after all, the perfect
baby. And, let’s face it; she’s pretty
easy on the eyes. Adorableness can mess
with your brain. I was convinced that
her long, dark locks and her big brown eyes would be enough to warm my heart in
the midst of even the most taxing toddler years. I was wrong.
My daughter looks at me with those big, beautiful eyes and yells,
at the top of her lungs, with her face less than 15 inches away from mine,
“MOMMY! Ont milk! Ont milk!” If I don’t stop what I am doing immediately and fetch her some milk, she
turns up the volume and yells some more. I have become, for lack of a better word, a slave to my daughter’s
needs. My mind tells me it’s a phase
but my instincts tell me to lock her in her room for the next two years and
feed her through a makeshift mail slot in the door.