My mom has often said that she could've thrown me away from ages 15-20 because of my sassiness, disrespectfulness, and just plain rudeness. I say there must be something in the water now-a-days. What used to be 15 is now 5.
Emma gives me a run for my money, I am telling you what.... We fight like cats and dogs. I hate to admit it, but it is true. Don't get me wrong - it is not all the time. Most times she is my sweet little baby girl and I am so glad to be around her!
Other times, well.... not so much. ha.
I realize that all the parenting books tell me it all comes back to me. Yes, I realize that. Why do I go toe-to-toe with a 5 year old?!?! Of course I know better. But in the heat of the moment, well.... I get worn down. Absolutely, positively worn down.
And then all parenting books be damned.
A few weeks ago, we were having one of our heated moments. I told her I was done taking her places. She was grounded. For life I tell you! For life! She looked at me completely seriously and said:
"Well how am I going to get to swimming lessons tomorrow?"
I said (quite maturely I might add), "I don't know, I guess you have a real problem on your hands."
She answered, through her tears, "Well, I guess I'll just have to take my Barbie jeep then!"
Take THAT, mom - I don't need you! Who needs moms when you have a Barbie jeep?!?
Last night was another doozy. She would NOT clean up her toys. This was after she trashed her room and the living room. She didn't do it to be spiteful, quite the contrary. She was just busy playing all day and didn't pick up before she got out the next toy. I reminded her that she would be putting it all away to which she cheerfully answered, "Okay mommy! I will!"
Fast forward a few hours. Time to clean up. The cheerful attitude took a wrong turn. Quickly.
I told her it was time to clean up. After some grumbling, she started cleaning. SLOW-LY.
After a few minutes of cleaning, Emma asked me: “Are you going to check my room when I’m done cleaning it?”
“You betcha”, I answered.
Back to her room she went.
A few minutes later: “I’m done, you can check, mommy! Wait – are you going to check under the bed?”
“Yep. I’ll check everywhere.”
“Okay, I’m not done then.”
And back to her room she went.
Later – “Mommy, I’m done, you can check! Wait, are you going to check under my rug?”
I am not even kidding. On and on every few minutes with different places.
Finally, she proudly told me she was done and to check her room. She followed me to her room.
Her cheerful smile turned nervous when I opened her closet. On top of her toybox I found a TON of toys shoved and buried under clothes.
She disgustingly said, “Well, you didn’t tell me you were going to check THERE!”
I hit the ceiling. And then she had the nerve to say to me, “I really wish we were one of those families that could talk about our problems instead of yelling.”
Oh. Good. Grief. Child!!!!!!!
Where's the chapter on this? Huh? Huh???