Monday, July 30, 2012

"This is how you repay me?"

We all had those days when we were kids. We were having a fantastic day with one parent, the other or both and then - for one reason or another - we ultimately ended up throwing the worst temper tantrum we could muster up.

These tantrums could be thrown as a two-year old or 12-year old. They take different forms, but are tantrums nonetheless.

Regardless, it resulted in the "this-is-how-you-repay-me speech" from Mom and/or Dad.

"I drove you all the way to Cedar Point, paid for you and your friends to get in and this is how you repay me?"

"I went to three stores to find your special jeans, spent $50 of my own money and THIS is how you repay me?"

"Do you know how much time and money I spent planning this party for you and this is how you repay me?"

I received insight into the toddler version of this speech (and what brings it on) today.

The last Monday of my maternity leave (that's for another post) and I've become old hat at this two-under-two thing.

When I say "old hat" I mean I no longer look around in disbelief, stewing. Instead, I'm not surprised while stewing.

Sometimes I'm able to just go to my "happy place". Unfortunately, the door to said-place is sometimes locked. We'll get into that another time.

I was up early and actually showered AND dried my hair (hold the applause until the end of the post, please) before 7 a.m. I was ready for Miss Abigail.

She got up and I made her oatmeal and got her dressed in Buzz Shirt No. 2 (we alternate). We watched The Cat in the Hat and played downstairs in the toy room. Jack wasn't overly compliant, but we made it work.

After Jack was fed and calmed down, I asked Abby if she wanted to go to the park. I put Jack in the Ergo so Abby could ride in the wagon. It's what she always asks to ride in when we go to the park, but I always use the double stroller for my own sanity.

She was so excited and we brought her new Buzz Bear. I wrestled Jack into the Ergo (he's in a weird, in-between size for it) and we headed off. Unfortunately, I grossly underestimated the heat and was sweating bullets before we even got to the park.

I pushed Abby (and Buzz Bear) on the swing for what seemed like an eternity and then she "cooked" (threw wood chips into a hole) before we left. She also ate dirt. It was a good all-around experience.

We got home and I made her lunch: a peanut butter sandwich with extra peanut butter on the side, apple slices (which she asked for and didn't eat) and yogurt. She licked the peanut butter off the bread, ate the extra peanut butter with her hands, dipped the bread in yogurt and licked it off and then ate the rest of her yogurt - and a second - by dipping her fingers in it.

I made my own lunch and asked if she wanted any, so she ended up dissecting some green beans and eating a few bites of couscous. By the end of the meal, she looked like a Christmas sugar cookie with sprinkles.

The entire time she was eating lunch, I let her watch "Buzz". She watched Toy Story and the last third of Toy Story 2. When she was finished eating, I cleaned her up and was going to wind down with her before her nap.

That's when it started.

Abby went NUTS because she wanted "Buzz again! Buzz on the TV! Buzz again!"

Her screaming woke up Jack, who had been sleeping peacefully in his Rock n Play (something I was excited about because it meant I could put Abby down for her nap without interference), so I had two screaming children on my hands as I began cleaning up all of the couscous off the floor.

Abby raced through the house - upstairs, downstairs - screaming "Buzz AGAIN! Buzz on the TV!"

That is when the insight hit me because, without warning, the phrase, "This is how you repay me?" popped up in my head.

I was overly cheerful this morning. I took her to the park in the wagon, sweating my arse off just for her. I pushed her in the swing. I lost Jack's paci in the process. I made her lunch with tons of peanut butter and let her watch Buzz back-to-back.

And this is how she repays me?

I ultimately had to carry her upstairs for her nap and put her in bed without stories because she was so out of it, she wouldn't relax even to let me read to her. She screamed bloody murder for a few minutes, but has since fallen silent, thank goodness.

Mom, you can go ahead and chalk this up as one of those "learning experiences" you wished upon me over the years while you were in the midst of one of my many, many tantrums.