Thursday, September 1, 2016

For all the moms who've been's okay.

This is for the moms who've left a full cart in the store thanks to a screaming toddler. This is for all the moms who've carried a screaming toddler away from the park. This is for all the moms who've been humiliated in any public place thanks to their toddlers behavior. If you have a child who is at least four, you've been there and you know what I'm talking about. If you have a child younger, don't worry you'll get your turn. If you say you've never felt this way with your toddler, you're lying. 

I've debated sharing this because I was so humiliated by my sweet (and sour) little one. But if you've ever been here, know you're not alone. 

Here's how it went down:

We had two doctors appointments in one day. Emma was in the morning and Ellie was in the afternoon. It wasn't possible to get them back to back. Emma went in for her appointment and was an angel! I'm talking perfect child status. The nurse asked how she was and my three year old responded, "I'm fine. Thank you. How are you?" She sat on the table and cooperated with everything the doctor said. I heard over and over, " wow she's so sweet and smart." Boy was I proud. I was feeling like mom of the year. Then we went home. 

She wanted to change clothes. Okay, no big deal. She did not care to tell me she'd also be putting on her horns, growing a tail and getting out her three pronged stick (what's that thing called?).

Off we went an hour later.  We had a talk on the way about how this was Elllie's turn and appropriate waiting behavior. Emma agreed. This was going to be okay. Back at the doctor for Ellie's appointment. I should've known how wrong I was when she walked into the waiting room and proceeded to lay down across three chairs. Sit up Emma. Remember what we talked about. She sits up. This is still going to be okay. She strikes up a conversation with a mom beside us and won't stop. She's three. It's still going to be okay. 

Fast forward. The nurse weighs Ellie. Before we are finished, Emma begins galloping and neighing back to our room. Nurse giggles. Sigh. They think it's funny. Still okay. 

We wait in the room for the doctor. Five minutes pass. Ten minutes. Fifteen. I've now read Emma every book in the waiting room and she's played with every toy. It feels like an hour has passed. She's now asking to crawl up on the table and refusing to listen when I say no. Proceeds to push the doctors rolling chair to the table. Still not listening. Falls off the chair. Working on a more stable chair now. In a desperate (and early) attempt, I pull out the secret weapons. The iPad and skittles. If you remember the rules we talked about, you can play the iPad and if you remember them until we leave, you will get a treat. It's working. 

In comes the doctor. It's still working. I look at the doctors computer while she tells me how our now ten pound baby looks very healthy. An arm on my shoulder. Emma is on the table and making her way towards Ellie. Oh no. She continues to interrupt.

Do I remind her of the skittles? No. Skittles are not healthy. Do I take her out? Impossible. Do I become the mean parent (that I usually am) and close the playroom when we get home? No. A tantrum will start and we'll never finish this appointment. 

The doctor rescues me and has Emma sit on the table and hold her tools. Totally unacceptable behavior in my eyes but I'm grateful for the doctors help. Everything is still okay. 

Fast forward. Ellie has to get a shot. My laid back baby screams but stops as soon as I pick her up. Not so bad. This is going okay. The nurse walks out and the tears come hard. From Emma. I let her know Ellie is okay and the shot will help her to be healthy. Clearly this wasn't reassuring enough for my threenager who is now in attitude mode. She marches for the door. Don't open the door. She opens the door. This is not okay anymore. Marches into the hall hands on hips. Turns to me and screams, "You're awful. I can't believe you let them do that to her. I'm leaving."  I can feel my blood pressure rising as she turns and stomps off. At this point, nothing is okay. I try to walk out calmly while keeping up with her without embarrassing us more but the damage is done. If I were in a different place, we would've left. Humiliation. 

But we survived. And you will too. I feel your pain. Deeply. 

Just keep swimming. 

She packs a lot of sass in that tiny body. Good thing she's cute. 

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