Something is obviously terribly wrong.

Something is obviously terribly wrong.

“I don’t want to wear jeans! I want to wear a skirt! NOOOOOO! This one is wrong!”
I know what the problem is: The skirt doesn’t flare out when she spins. “CP, that skirt looks beautiful. You look great. Mommy’s skirt doesn’t flare when I spin either. But you still look great.”
*crumbles to the floor*

“NO! I don’t want ponies!”
“How about a braid like Elsa? Or two braids like Ana?”
“NOOOOOO! I want it long!” *runs away*

“NO! You go over THERE!” *takes off* *door slams*
Oh, hellllll no. “What did you just say? We do not slam doors in this house!”

What in the world is going on? How did this happen? One minute she is Mama’s little helper, wanting to snuggle, or stopping me in my tracks to tell me something: “I have to tell you something! I love you.” The next minute she is a beast, a total creep, and a complete jerk. Sometimes it’s totally embarrassing. Sometimes it’s fully infuriating.

I don't know what the problem is. Out of raisins, maybe?

I don’t know what the problem is. Out of raisins, maybe?

And sometimes I can relate. Because, well, I changed my outfit three times this morning before work and I think it confuses my husband: “Weren’t you just wearing that? Why did you change? That looks the same as the other shirt. They both look fine.” I roll my eyes. And he probably rolls his eyes when I turn around. So if his adult wife confuses him, his toddler daughter probably blows his freaking mind. Because when I can’t relate to her, she blows my mind as well. But I have to give him credit, because he usually handles it much better than it seems like he should – especially given that he’s a dude that simply puts on clothes and walks out the door.

Typical morning bullshit.

Typical morning bullshit.

I can barely remember the angst and drama of being a teen, never mind the difficulties of being a kid. So, I usually just try to get down next to her, offer her reasonable choices, provide explanations, or suggest that she take a few deep breaths. But this doesn’t always work and I’m sure we’re going to find ourselves in some bigger pickles as time trudges on. How am I going to survive what’s to come? I can only imagine that it’s going to be a mixture of patience, tolerance, boundaries, and choosing my battles … as well as a large dose of requesting advice or reading what works from moms such as yourselves out there. And when all else fails, just having a good laugh (or cry!) at the ridiculousness that is these little people.

My experience is solely with a girl, so I know the issues can range a bit. But I do know that gender does not dictate whether or not there are issues!

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