HOLY CRAP! I always heard that girls were easier than boys. So, with the challenges of our son, I thought a daughter would be a breeze. Right!! Monkey boy is ADHD, Her Majesty, is just a B.R.A.T! I'm not talking about the freakishbigheadeddollswithtoomuchmakeupbratz either. I'm saying she needs to be tied up in her room, with duct tape covering her mouth, and a straight jacket on.
I remember holding her as a new born baby. Her sweet little baby face promised me pink, ribbons, baby dolls, and hair barrette's. I pictured doing her hair and playing Barbie's with her, then sitting down to a tea party in our fancy dresses. Instead, I spend my days trying to control the next temper tantrum, pulling gum out of her dolls hair, fighting with her over what clothes she can wear, screaming at her just so I can get her to sit still long enough to comb her hair, and dreaming of ordering that straight-jacket I found online. What the hell happened???
All that "Sugar and spice and everything nice!" Pfffftttt. It's all a lie! It's more like "Eye of newt and tail of skunk!". There is no peaceful Mommy and Me time, it's more like a constant fight for supremacy around here, and I really think she is winning. Pretty Pretty Princess my foot! She is more like Attilla the Hun! Don't get me wrong, she does have that sweet peaceful attitude, when she is sleeping!
The dream has died. I think it happened about the same time I found her "poop paintings" in her crib for the 6th morning in a row. I think she is a little demon wrapped up in some very pretty trappings.
My dream: She stands before me with beautiful little braids in her hair, dressed in perfect little pink lace, clutching a sweet baby doll and in a perfect, peaceful little voice asks me if I will play dolls with her.
My reality: She stands before me with hair that hasn't been combed in over a week because it's not worth the energy and tooth enamel to try to comb it. Her hair and dirty face makes you think she may have been raised by wolves. Her clothes are a wild combination of colors and patterns, stained with everything she has ate for the past three days, since she refuses to change clothes ya' know. She is clutching the baby, covered in permanent marker and naked. She is screaming at the top of her lungs in a voice and whine that can only be equated to a chain saw trying to cut through tin sheeting, "WHY WON'T ANYONE PLAY WITH ME DAMMIT!!"
The website says that they have next day shipping on the jacket for an extra $50. I wonder where my husband hid that credit card?
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1 comment:
I hope no one reports you to CPS after reading that...
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