However, the other change in her behavior is troublesome, to say the least. When I get home from work she starts acting out. She’s suddenly this terrible brat who bosses me around, talks in a hurtful tone, blatantly disregards rules and things I ask her to do. She’s an A-1 douchebag, people. She’s the kind of kid that used to make me say I’m NEVER having kids. And she’s never been like this before. Sure, she’s had trouble being a good listener, but nothing like this.

Gerald picks her up from daycare at 2:00 and I get home around 5:00. For those three hours with her dad she’s her normal, charming self. I get home and BAM! Instant bratzilla. So, I spend my two precious hours with her fussing and giving time-outs and threatening heinie spankings. All she gets from me is anger and frustration and all I get from her is defiance and bad behavior. What gives? Is she acting out because she’s upset in the change in our normal routine? Is she picking up these behaviors from other kids and testing them out on me? Or, is it because I allow it, as Gerald is apt to believe? He thinks if I crack down on the behavior for a few days that she’ll stop. But it breaks my heart to spend all my time with her being a disciplinarian. I miss her snuggling with me to watch a little TV before bed. I miss her wanting to play with me. I miss liking her.

Have any of you ever dealt with this? Can you shed some light? Offer some assvice? Send me chocolate? Anything at all?

I’d love your suggestions, please.

This morning she woke up and asked for underpants instead of a diaper. I told her that only big girls who use the potty all the time get to wear underpants. I asked if she wanted to use the potty and she replied that she did not. However, she still wanted underpants. I was firm in my “underpants for pottying girls only” stance and she got it.

So, I was thinking I need to try a new way this time around. One that’s less stressful for Maddie and for me. I mean, let’s face it, if I’m stressed about it, she’s going to be stressed about it. I saw The No-Cry Potty Training Solution by Elizabeth Pantley on Amazon and it looks really good. Here’s an excerpt that I really agree with:

“Go

Begin dressing your child in training pants or pull-up diapers.

Create a potty routine–have your child sit on the potty when she first wakes up, after meals, before getting in the car, and before bed.

If your child looks like she needs to go–tell, don’t ask! Say, “Let’s go to the potty.”

Boys and girls both can learn sitting down. Teach your son to hold his penis down. He can learn to stand when he’s tall enough to reach.

Your child must relax to go: read a book, tell a story, sing, or talk about the day.

Make hand washing a fun part of the routine. Keep a step stool by the sink, and have colorful, child-friendly soap available.

Praise her when she goes!

Expect accidents, and clean them up calmly.

Matter-of-factly use diapers or pull-ups for naps and bedtime.

Either cover the car seat or use pull-ups or diapers for car trips.

Visit new bathrooms frequently when away from home.

Be patient! It will take three to twelve months for your child to be an independent toileter.

Stop

If your child has temper tantrums or sheds tears over potty training, or if you find yourself getting angry, then stop training. Review your training plan and then try again, using a slightly different approach if necessary, in a month or two.”

Have any of you used any of Elizabeth Pantley’s books? If you did, what did you think of it? Did it help or was it stuff you pretty much already knew?

However, mama is totally not ready for these things.

I understand diapers. I don’t mind changing them or buying them. I’m confident that I can handle diaper changes when Maddie and I are out and about on our own. I’m comfortable and familiar with diapers. Potties? Not so much.

I’m scared to change. I’m scared of accidents in public and frantic searches for bathrooms when the need is urgent. I’m scared because it’s unknown.

I’m considering jumping in with both feet this weekend and going balls-to-the-wall-full-on with the pottying. Ditching diapers and pull-ups (during the day only) and breaking out the Elmo underpants that have been in Maddie’s drawer for months.

If you leave me encouraging comments, I will totally swoon over them, I promise. Or, just send me patient, calm vibes this weekend, k?

Maddie’s two-year-old-douchebaggery has escalated to heretofore unseen levels. We’re at douchebaggery alert orange here, people. I actually had to put her in her crib this afternoon so that we could all just chillthefuckout for a while. My god, EVERYTHING is such a BIG DEAL for her. And the crying and whining and demanding…. ugh. Needless to say, all efforts to conceive child #2 are on hold. I’m pretty sure my ovaries have packed their bags and are moving into an “adults only” community somewhere in Boca.

Work is good. There’s nothing like the dread of staying home with the aforementioned douchebaggy kid to make one appreciate one’s job. A bad day at work is still a picnic compared to a bad day at home.

To be fair, I should tell you that my kid is extraordinarily charming these days. She’s big into singing and putting on little shows. Old MacDonald and the ABCs are two of her signature pieces. I’m convinced this is a survival instinct on her part. Otherwise, her tiny hiney would be looking for a room to rent and a job.

I’m practically healed from last week’s Birthday Surgery Extravaganza. No pain so far, so I’m hoping things will settle down on the health front. Although, Gerald will be going through is own surgical gauntlet in a monthish, so there’s always HIS complications to look forward to.

Um, I guess this post perfectly illustrates why I ought not be posting. I’m kind of a grumpasaurus rex, huh?

I still don’t know anything about The Stones Situation. The sonographer called in sick on Wednesday, so bad luck for me. The dr is sending me for an abdominal and pelvic sono tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully that will yield some news. Some GOOD news. Not “omgIhavecancerandI’mgonnadie” news.

In a weird turn of events, my OB removed my Mirena IUD on Wednesday. He knew I was going to come back for the removal in a month or two and he said he’d just do it then and save me a trip and a co-pay. So, meanwhile I’m fertile. Or, I’m going to be soon. My husband is doing his best to make sure that his fertile parts stay FAR, FAR away from my fertile parts. Apparently, Maddie has killed his desire for a second child, too.  I’m pretty sure he’s willing to move into his own place just to avoid “accidentally” impregnating me.

My car is at the car-fixer-place and I’ve got a rental. My insurance company only pays $25 a day on the rental and I’m cheap and I won’t pay extra for a nicer car. This means that I went from my pimpmobile with heated leather seats and power everything (EVEN THE DOORS ARE POWER!) to a car that’s one horse away from being an Amish buggy. Dude, it’s got roll-down windows. That you have to crank. Like with your arms and shit. Also, the door locks are manual push down things. I’m surprised I don’t have to wind it up to make it go. The upside is that it’s sure to get much better gas mileage than my pimpmobile. The car-fixer-guy says it’ll be at least a week before my car is ready.

There’s also been an improvement on the Maddie vs. Daycare front. Gerald dropped her off on Wednesday and there was no drama whatsoever. It seems Maddie drama queens that shit up for my benefit. Your kids do it to you, too, don’t they? Gah. They’re such little douche bags sometimes, aren’t they?

This latest cold meant that Maddie missed two days of preschool. Wait, what I really meant to say is that I missed two days of Maddie’s preschool. I’ve come to cherish my 10 hours a week of alone time. When I realized she was sick on Thursday morning I was so. very. put. out. “What about me?? What about my QUIET TIME??” Again, there was someone in the house who had PMS which may or may not have lead to exacerbated feelings of entitlement/martyrdom.

After a particularly hellish weekend with Legion Maddie, I cracked open a bottle of Riesling last night. I’m not technically supposed to drink alcohol until I’m a year post-op, but I’m also not supposed to kill my first born child, either. It was one of those “lesser of two evils” type of situations. Anyhow. I drank a quarter of a glass over 30 minutes and let me tell you, it was bliss. I got a nice buzz that was gone after an hour and some blessed relaxation. I woke up in good mood for the first time in almost a week. I guess I can add “budding alcoholic” to my resume now. Most people get that kind of training in college, but I didn’t. I like to think I’m taking the adult learning course over at the bar annex.