• doggie (“doggah”
• kitty (“kee’ee”)
• the dog’s name
• Nana
• Daddy (“dada”)
• Uh-Oh
• Thank You (“tankoooooo”)
• Bottle (“baba”)

And hundreds of gibberish words that clearly mean something to her. Still, none of them are Mama. I mean COME ON. Dada? Baba? Nana? I can’t get even ONE LITTLE “MAMA” out of the deal?!

She’ll pay for this when she’s 16.

Chirp.

Aaawwwww.

Buddddudowwwwww.

Ow. Vroom Vroom. Buh-tack.

Beep honk SQUAWK.

MAKE.IT.STOP.

I haven’t even downed my entire first cup of coffee yet.

And I’ve been invaded by the Zhu Zhu Pet. Worse, invaded by a Zhu Zhu pet under the control of a two year old who insists on driving it into my arm repeatedly as I type.

Earlier this week, I hid this thing in my purse.

You see, my four year old daughter got it for her birthday on Sunday. She left it in the car. I slid it into my purse to see how long it would take her to ask for the thing.

It wasn’t until her father arrived home on Monday evening and brilliantly asked her if she had played with it today that she freaked out.

Full on freak out too – yelling, jumping, I think I left it in the car, DEAR GOD PLEASE LET ME HAVE LEFT IT IN THE CAR. LET’S GO GET IT NOW!!!

Crap.

Our other daughter got one last week while she was in the hospital for pneumonia. It was cute. For about five minutes.

I don’t think the toy manufacturers sit around brainstorming what will make kids happy.

No, no, that’s not it at all.

They sit around those tables in dark, dank rooms plotting what will most annoy parents.

And then they multiply it by a million.

Yep, that’s I think what they do and I’m sticking to it.

“Yes, those are Mommy’s boobies. No, you can’t touch them.”

“Don’t smother your sister!”

“No! We do NOT eat POOP!”

“That’s called your vagina.”
“My ‘agina?”
[stifled horrified laughter - good lord that sounds wrong coming from her]
“No, Mommy was wrong. Those are your lady parts.”

“Get that plug out of your mouth. Now. Seriously.”

“We do NOT eat lightbulbs. Ever!”

“OH MY GOD there is a Phineas and Ferb WIKI. I’m in love.” [bookmarking it]

6:00am: Alarm rings.

Wait, back up. Let’s be honest here.

5:15am: Geeklet wakes up. I stick the binky back in her mouth, cover her with her blanket and say a little prayer that she goes back to sleep. I may, or may not, have said “Just go to sleep for another 45 minutes, kid.”

6:ooam: Alarm rings. I turn it off, fall back asleep almost immediately after pausing to ensure the baby didn’t wake up, and have a strange dream about the alarm sounding like big, fuzzy colored caterpillars.

6:11am: Geeklet wakes up.  She is making whiny noises, because she is hungry. I want DaddyGeek to make the bottle so I can feed her in bed, but before I can ask, he sleepily mumbles/asks if it’s OK if he sleeps in until 6:30am. I don’t say anything, because my mother taught me not to say anything if you don’t have something nice to say. I get the baby and go make a bottle and feed her.

6:20am: Geeklet and I are settled on the sofa, she is having her bottle. I put on the latest episode of Drop Dead Diva, a show I swore I wouldn’t watch but to which I am now addicted.

6:41am: Realize I forgot to wake up DaddyGeek – open the door and wake him.

6:57am: Cupcake is still not up, my show is over, and I am considering watching the episode of The Closer that I haven’t yet watched. I realize I should brush my teeth, maybe take a shower, but decide instead to wear a ponytail again today.

7:00am: I realize that Geeklet has pooped already.  I suggest to DaddyGeek that he should change a diaper, I don’t tell him it’s poop. He suggests I make coffee. I win! I feel better about him sleeping in.

7:15am: Coffee is made, but Geeklet’s diaper hasn’t been changed yet. I refuse to change that damn diaper. Hubby is nowhere to be found. He must be in the bathroom.

7:20am: He was in the bathroom. I’m not sure, but I think I should wait before going in there. I use this as an excuse to get my computer open. Cupcake is still not awake.

7:21am: My computer is out of hibernation, and I quickly jot off a reply to AmazingGreis regarding moving her blog over to WordPress. Silly girl, she doesn’t think she has any subsribers. What am I, chopped liver?

7:30am: After a little more mindless web surfing, Cupcake has woken up. I go into the room to see if she wants me to carry her out, as is the custom, but today she tells me to go away — she wants to “Get out of bed all by myself.” I almost die from the cuteness, but am revived by reading my Twitter stream.

7:41am: After lengthy discussion with DaddyGeek regarding getting a better design for his blog and silently consider harey-carey because GOOD LORD the man is picky. Don’t ever go clothes or blog shopping with this guy. NIGHTMARE.

7:57am: Quickly dress Geeklet and Cupcake to get out the door and start the morning commute.

8:06am: Begin loading the car, including the super-stinky trash that must go to the dumpster today or I’ll vomit when I get home.

8:09am: Everyone is in the car, thank god. Put the windows down so the car doesn’t stink and drive over to the dumpster. Unload stinky trash, and we’re on our way!

8:16am: Call my mother to tell her we are 10mins from the house. “Heads-up” phone call, morning tradition. She stays on the phone with me until I get there, talking to me about my brother.

8:28am: Try to get some dirt of Cupcake’s nose, she freaks out. Toddlers = Evil.

8:37am: After everyone is settled in, I give kisses & hugs and head out.

8:48am: My mother calls. We manage to talk about the fact that Cupcake picked the healthy cereal over the unhealthy cereal for the next twelve minutes.

8:58am: I arrive at work, still talking to my mother. Luckily she recognizes the sounds of the office and excuses herself, we hang up. My coworker is shocked I am here so early. More on that in another post, entitled “Being a Working Mother Fucking Sucks Donkey Balls”, or somesuch. Stay tuned!

9:06am: Decide I am going to live-blog the rest of my day.

9:11am: Get a cup of french vanilla, mild blend coffee. Second cup of the day. I won’t finish it, but I like to sip on it while I sit at my desk.

9:14am: Twitter isn’t working?! What is happening?! AHHHH!!!

9:34am: Realize that I should be doing a CSV Import into the CRM client that we use, because the marketing team needs the leads. Oops. I’ll start that.

9:36am: Twitter still isn’t working. I am going to cry. How are people going to know I am live-blogging if I CAN’T TWEET ABOUT IT? Also, I have no idea what anyone is doing and I am starting to feel panicky. I’ll check my email, maybe someone emailed me.

9:37am: SWEET! AmazingGreis emailed me. She is hosted with JustHost, my current host, and my current recommendation, in case you were wondering. Love the easy sign-up process, easy two-click install of WordPress and general usability of the system. By the way, did you know that I switched Issa’s blog from Blogger to WordPress in less than 24 hours? I feel like a fucking rock star.  Oh, and that template is a free template. Awesome, no? I did tweak it a bit though.

9:40am: Thank God. Twitter is sort of working. At least I know what MommyMelee is doing now. Oh, sweet tears of relief….

9:43am: Story in Boston about “Grounded Unicorn Finally Freed” was not actually about a unicorn, but a boat. Damn.

9:48am: OK, Twitter isn’t really working, but at least I’m getting some work done here. CSV import is on it’s way. Did I mention that lately, I sort of hate my job? The system I am “administrator” for — it sucks. A lot. And it’s broken.

My mornings are hectic.

10:10am: Just read Nic’s post at Violence Unsilenced. I am struck speechless by her powerful words… and her pain.  Please, go read. Support her. She is so brave to tell her story.

10:35am: My mother calls. Geeklet has learned, at 9 1/2 months, how to have massive temper tantrums. She screams about everything. She needs to vent, and I can’t blame her…. thankful that I don’t have to deal with it all day, and feel horribly guilty that I feel thankful. *sigh*

11:03:am: Twitter still down, apparently due to a Denial-of-Service attack. That sucks. Who hates Twitter that much?

11:49am: Working on Issa’s new site — added Google Friend Connect, and then troubleshooting a problem with her feed. Turns out I forgot to set the timestamp so her post last night isn’t showing up on readers because they think it was future-posted… like, this afternoon. Oops! ((blushing))

12:34pm: Goddamnit, the cool comment-reply plugin is not WORKING on Issa’s blog and I can’t figure it out. FAIL.

12:37pm: Ok, turns out I just needed to be more patient.  The plug-in is working, just not at lightning speed…. lol.  Well, I never said I was a patient person. I always get my gifts early, and I hate waiting for surprises. Or results.  That’s why I always quit dieting and working out…

12:45pm: I haven’t had lunch. Stomach is growling and hurting, so hungry! Bonus: Husband works with me, he has gone to get lunch, he is awesome. Unfortunately I was distracted by IMing with Issa and coworkers, so I have no idea what he is buying. Oops.

1:26pm: I swear, I’m doing real work, too… but I also figure out how to at least get Issa’s blogger main URL to redirect to her new URL. Was hoping to redirect posts, too, but no luck. Blogger doesn’t like that. Naturally…

1:42pm: Twitter appears to be back in business, which is a good thing, because seriously I was really getting anxious there for a little while. Also, I needed to complain about being hungry, and how ELSE would I do that?

2:01pm: Several months of searching, and I couldn’t find exactly what I wanted.. but Kay from Chains of Yesterday just sent me the link like it was nothing! She rocks. A plug-in to let you respond to comments on your blog AND email the original commenter ALL AT THE SAME TIME…. It’s magic.  Will be installing and testing today!

2:41pm: Damnit, AmazingGreis’s site is not redirecting for everyone in the world… except me. Me, I get her page fine. Everyone else? Stupid JustHost page. WTF?

3:16pm: OK, turns out the Greis issue was a patience issue, too. Whoops! Looks like I have a “problem.” I need some sort of OverEager Anonymous Group or something. I don’t know. Anyway, her DNS hasn’t resolved yet, can take up to 48 hours. Hopefully won’t take that long! I think it’ll be resolved more quickly than that, but we’ll see. Meanwhile, I wait. Because I can’t even load her template or anything until it’s finished. Geez!

Ok, I’ve missed a whole chunk of time. The end of the day is always a blur. Summary? Greis’s site was up, template uploaded, posts imported, I did a dance of joy. I left for the day, hit the grocery store for my mother, got stuff for dinner tonight (chicken fajitas made by my dearest-most-darlingest-husband (I have to say that or he won’t cook for me anymore and I’ll starve) ) and picked up the kids. On the way home, talk to a friend of ours who is starting culinary school in less than two weeks! (So maybe I could get with him if DaddyGeek refuses to cook for me… or not) So happy for him. My mom called, I forgot the damn fajita mix/seasoning at her house, but thank goodness we had some at home. Dinner saved!

We ate dinner by 7pm. Bathtime was at 7:47pm, and by 8:28pm the bottles were made, diapers changed and pajamas donned. DaddyGeek went in for bedtime with Cupcake, I put Geeklet down to sleep (easy, thank goodness) (though I just heard her sqwaking in the other room of course) and got back on the computer.

9:06pm: Nearly threw the computer out the window because I can’t upload a check to my bank via our depost at home feature, because the stupid check is written stupid and stupid stupid dumb. Didn’t, because it’s not the computer’s fault. This time.

9:11pm: I buy a new theme for DaddyGeek’s website and try to install. It won’t.

9:12pm: I post a thread to the user forum. I check my email a thousand times in the next ten minutes to see if anyone psots a reply. Nothing. Obviously.

9:30pm: Go get hubby – he has nearly fallen asleep and I am almost sure that Cupcake finally fell asleep, too.

9:32pm: Dissapoint hubby because his site isn’t done. Fail.

9:46pm: Hubby wants to know if he should go to bed. He just farted, so I am going to say yes.

9:47pm: Hubby calls me mean because I blogged about his fart.

9:48pm: I giggle with glee at my blogging. I am so funny.

9:48pm: Going to bed. Ok, so I’ll probably eff around online, and play with Greis’s site a little more and watch the rest of this episode of The Closer (see, I got around to it), and then I’ll go to sleep. But this is done.

Goodnight!

Firm but gentle is our  parenting motto. That’s not to say we always achieve it. I’d say that right now, we’re seeing a 60-40 split – 60% of the time we get it right, and 40% of the time we’re dead wrong.  At first, when Cupcake turned three years old and began the standard toddler behavior, we didn’t react quickly enough. We would wait, and wait, and suggest that she behave, or try ignoring it, or any manner of inconsistent methods, until it got out of hand. Then we’d yell.

Note to new parents: This method is ineffective.

We discussed one evening, my darling husband and I, and we decided, that, duh, it’s not working, and that we needed a new plan.

[crickets]

Crap. How do we deal with a toddler? So we decided that we’d go for consistent, and firm discipline — but gentle. No yelling and screaming. No spanking, because I don’t feel comfortable wtih it (though I’ve been tempted. Ok, so I slapped her bum once. I didn’t like it).  We are sticking with time-out’s for blatant violence and “Go to your room and calm down” for pretty much everything else.

So far, we’ve had limited success.

Her: *Smack*
Me: **Glare** “Cupcake, we do not hit. This is your warning. ”
Her: *Smack* “Give me a time out!” Squealing with joy. Literally. What the fuck?
Me: Well, obviously I can’t give her the satisfaction of all that. I think. Or should I? Crap, I don’t know. They don’t talk about this in the books. What the hell do I do? Shit, I have to respond. Timely, MG, Timely. Ok. Deep breaths. Alright well it’s been too long and now you might as well go for “Ignore it” because you’ve been sitting here and thinking. Ok, we’re going with ignore it.
Her: *Smack*
Me: Obviously that didn’t work. Fine, I’ll go with Time Out. I should have done that in the first time. Idiot. Stupid stupid stupid. “Cupcake, there is no hitting. 2 minute time out.”

We proceed to the bedroom, where we will have time out. I place her in the chair. I tell her that she will sit here for two minutes. She grins at me like she’s auditioning to be a clown. I leave the room. She follows. I silently, calmly, place her back into her chair. She grins. I turn and leave again.

Rinse. Repeat. For 15 minutes. I am not going to let her get away with this crap. Finally, she cries and gives up, and sits and sulks for two minutes. She apologizes, we kiss and hug, I feel victorious!

Then we wake up in the morning and do the whole damn thing again.

It’s difficult to continue to be firm and gentle and consistent in the face of that. Some days when she starts up with whatever annoying toddler thing she’s trying that day, I want to cry. Some days, I do cry. Some days, I laugh, for the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation – for the sheer folly of trying to control a toddler. Toddlers: The Uncontrollable. It’s like a horror movie. Or a comedy. Or a drama. Frankly, it depends on what day you watch it.

There are mornings that I wake up and wish I could reason with her – but again, with the folly. What am I thinking? I speak in sentences longer than 6 words and her eyes glaze over and she starts to giggle and look away, babbling about the flowers waking up and the dollies taking a bath. She starts to grab the drawstring on my pants in an attempt to pull them down – which made me laugh once, and good LORD that was a mistake.

Note to new parents: Do not ever laugh at your toddler. They will run with it. It won’t be funny next time. {Probably}

It helps to know that we aren’t alone. I saw a toddler and her mother in a the grocery store the other day. The kid was pushing Mom’s buttons and I recognized the evil little grin on her cherubic face: she was obviously three years old, and she was obviously trying to make her mother crazy.  The mom looked a little frazzled, and we shared a knowing glance as I walked by. Cupcake was sitting quietly in the seat basket, staring at the other child taking notes acting like an angel – I gestured to her and said with a smile to the other mother, “Today, she’s an angel. Yesterday? Not so much.” We laughed a little laugh, and moved on, tending to our children. I felt buoyed by the experience. My uncertainties about our strategy and our effectiveness as parents dissipates more with each knowing smile, passing nod, shared chuckle. I’m convinced that this is exactly why Grandmothers so often hold the magic touch: they are unfazed. They feel confident. They are untouchable in their assurance that they are in charge, the Alpha, the leader. Their wisdom and words are rarely challenged and they snuff out dissension with a practiced glare.

I can’t wait until I have grandchildren. At least then someone will be afraid of me.

Don’t answer the door.  It might be me, and I might be handing you an adorable little blonde girl with beautiful blue eyes. She will look so sweet, you will take her into your home. Then she will ask for a cookie before dinner and you, being the sensible parent that you are, will say, “Let’s have a cookie after dinner!” You didn’t say the dreaded “N” word, you used a bright and cheery tone, but it doesn’t matter. Right before your eyes that beautiful, sweet, smiling, charming little angel will turn into a snarling demon, screeching the way only a child scorned can screech, generally scaring everyone and everything within a 10-mile radius and alerting the police and local churches that either a murder has been committed or an exorcism needs to be performed.

You will attempt to reason, appease, joke, distract, redirect and finally ignore the screams, jumping up and down, foot stomping, yelling, crying and even occassionally hitting and kicking… to no avail.

Eventually you will go truly, undeniably, irreversibly mad. You will drop this beautiful little angel, who has calmed down now that she realized you were offering her a chance to play in the water table which is her favorite! thing! ever! and is appropriately occupied with that activity, at the doorstep of another unsuspecting parent.

I would say shame, shame, shame on you – but remember how this story began?