Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

Today I decided I needed a good mom post. So here we are… talking about my daughter’s feelings.

This morning, I opened my eyes to my husband already having coffee on my nightstand..,because he’s amazing, while my bladder was about to explode and I still couldn’t see straight without my glasses. I looked over and saw my little human, who sleeps next to me every night because I made the mistake of inviting her into my bed like a homeless kitten.

There she was. Sleeping sideways. I was hanging off the edge of my own king-size bed, not moving, not even getting up to pee… just trying to get seven more minutes of silence before hearing “mom” 15 times in a minute. I somehow managed to sneak out of bed, sneak downstairs, warm up my coffee, and let the dogs out—completely forgetting the microwave was about to beep.

I let it beep anyway, because Rumple was outside barking at the deck chairs… you know, as they aggressively moved in the wind. I’m not sure if the beep woke her up or if Rumple did, but either way, she was up, and she was in a mood. The same kind of mood I was in the other day… which immediately made me want to hide.

Frown. Arms crossed. “Mom. Mom. Mom.” Like a broken Furby. On top of all that, she decided she’s just… not using the potty today.

She was doing great. Then she stopped doing great. Then she did great again, and now? Not for her. Not interested. (Any other moms been here? Please send help.). I know she can hold it—she proves that daily. She’ll hold it, wait until I take her off the potty, look me dead in the eyes, say “potty,” and then go.

Why does motherhood go from singing Frozen songs, playing with each other’s hair, dolls, coloring… to full-blown two-berty meltdown in 0.2 seconds? To make matters worse, today she decided no one else exists. No one else can take her to the bathroom, change her clothes, or even look in her direction for more than three seconds, including her dad…who is normally my life support on days like these days.

How can one two-foot human have this many feelings? Have a pout face strong enough to make me question every parenting decision I’ve ever made?

Parents—have you ever been at work and just wanted to walk into a quiet room and scream the F word at the top of your lungs… but then realized you accidentally walked into an active conference? That’s what my life feels like right now.

She’s peacefully napping as I sit here typing this like I have a three-day hangover. I’m hoping she wakes up on the right side of the bed… fingers crossed, but then bedtime will roll around, and she’ll be a sugar-fueled, playground-chasing, just-lived-her-best-life, energy-packed maniac.

HELP.