Attention, Friends. My sweet, laid back, youngest daughter is missing. She has been replaced with a hormonal teenager in a pint sized body. In other words, we have made a gigantic leap into the terrible twos. There were no warning signs, no easing into the world of the hormonal toddler, nothing to prepare me that Emma Kate was about to make this transition. It happened all at once and made me wonder if she was sick, had hit her head, or had a disorder. Then, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
Those bricks came down last weekend at a wedding shower. As we sat there in the church fellowship hall surrounded by wedding gifts, bite-sized chicken salad sandwiches, and ladies using their utmost manners, I was thinking "My goodness, this party sure is loud." Somewhere between the cracker being thrown at me, my necklace being broken, dragging Emma Kate off the stage, and punch being spilled down my dress, I realized the source of the noise was right beside me. I was THAT mom. The one that was getting the sideways glances and "that poor dear" smiles. The one with the flailing, pint sized ball of energy and fury.
I've come up with a list of why the terrible twos can be likened to a cross between a rabid wild cat and a hormonal teenager.
1. Mood changes. One minute, Emma Kate is sunshine and roses, the next, she is screaming, flailing, and hurling a series of words I do not understand but can imagine they are not "You are wonderful and beautiful, Mommy." Just today, Emma Kate and I were getting in the car. She was excited about our trip to Wal-Mart, but as i tried to put her in her car seat, she stiffened, shrieked a succession of words, slid out of the car seat, and under the bench seat of my Explorer. Now, it is not an easy feat to get under the seat of an Explorer, and it is even harder to get out from under the seat of an Explorer. Especially when the item under the seat does not want to be retrieved. A minute later, the sunshine returned and we were on our way. Go figure.
2. Indecisiveness. One minute it's white, one minute it's black. The other day, Emma Kate asked for milk. When it wasn't presented to her within 1.7 seconds, her request turned into a high pitched wail for milk. I poured her a sippy of milk and tried to hand it to her. She pushed it away. I sat it on the counter. She screamed for milk. I tried to hand it to her and she pushed it away. I sat it on the counter. She screamed for milk... Do you see where this is going? Eventually, she did satiate her thirst by accepting the sippy.
3. Temper tantrums. In our house, Tantrumville now has a population of 2. Emma Kate has even had to visit the timeout spot. Timeout lasted all of 10 seconds before the sweet baby returned and her broken heart was evident. I think though, that in those 10 seconds a point was proven. **Snort** Yeah right. Who am I kidding? The only point that was proven is that I am a pushover and she is a master manipulator. As the tantrums get more and more frequent, I'm having to remind myself that "Children are a heritage of the Lord" and this too shall pass. Or so they tell me. Right now, having 2 children that have mastered the art of the temper tantrum and aren't afraid to use it makes me feel that this "phase" is going nowhere for the next oh, 18 years or so.
Those few and far between moments where both girls are happy and smiling are worth it though. They keep my heart full and remind me how much of a blessing being a mama is.
1 year ago