When I was pregnant with Chloe, 8 years ago, my mom told me parenting isn't for the faint of heart. At the time I had no clue what she was talking about. In fact, I probably thought something along of lines of, pregnancy isn't for the faint of heart...well mom, you can now do your happy "I told you so" dance because, I GET IT. Ok? I freakin get it.
The newborn days? Exhausting, seemingly endless hours filled with poop and puke and more poop and more puke and no sleep and days without a shower was doable.
The first months of, oh shits and fuck mes', of mobility because hey you thought you had the house baby proofed but, um, you SO had no clue what you were doing? Totally doable.
The terrible two's? Check.
Tyrannical threes? Check
This age? This I'm almost 8 going on 16 age? Holy shit. I'm at a loss here....she has turned into a highly emotional, trigger happy, overly dramatic medium sized demon child that screams at me "you never listen to me!" I really try honey but honestly I don't really understand what you're saying. It sounds like some strange mythical language made up by J.R.R. Tolkien on a serious meth bender. Also my little love? Also? I kind of don't want to listen to you when you're being nasty and insulting me. So yes, you can sit on your bed and write in your diary about how absolutely terrible I am as long as you leave me alone for 10 minutes to reevaluate my life after your latest emotional dagger throwing escapade.
While we're at it, can I ask a question and get an answer without eye rolling and snarls? What exactly happens in the bathroom? Why does it take 30 minutes to brush your teeth? And how does toothpaste end up everywhere? It's confusing and infuriating and it happens EVERYDAY. Everyday.
Listen. I adore my daughter. I really really truly do. I also really really truly wish she would take it easy on me sometimes. It gets exhausting sometimes holding my breath waiting for the next landslide.