Terrible Threes

Whilst I know most parents may relate to these most embarrassing and trying times of parenting, I cannot help but feel I am the only parent on the face of the planet raising a small child that thinks she can do everything without my help. But when she finally gives up it’s my fault. What is it about the age of 3 that turns sweet little cherub faced children into the most argumentative, daring, and aggravating individuals? Recently my daughter has taken it upon herself to push the the envelope, so much so, I’m surprised she does not have a permanent imprint of her rear-end on the carpeted step of our designated “time out” spot. So precocious is she that even asking her to use the potty before we leave the house turns into an all out battle of the whits. Think before you speak has become my personal motto when child rearing a three year old. Not only do I have my rules used against me, but reverse psychology has taken a seat on the back burner as it has back fired multiple times. Unfortunately, the most trying of times is when parenting skills are put on display for the public to watch. Some have bowed their head in empathy while others have stared aghast pretending the groceries on the shelf in front of them are very important. To the latter I say, in the words of Stephanie Tanner, “Well, pin a rose on your nose.” Those people have only got enough luck to keep what I like to call “melt downs” behind closed doors. I can be the most calm and level headed parent as they come during the first 3 or 4 of these said “melt downs”- hollering, screaming, crying tantrum beyond all hair raising tantrums a child is known for throwing. But, after 9 hours of calm speaking and quiet warnings my facad cracks then my sanity spills out all over the floor wherever I may be standing at that moment, say a grocery store, doctors office, park, or more recently…the library.

Dare I go where quietness is expected rather than preferred. Not to mention the fact I usually have a 22 pound 6 month old attached to my hip while I’m hanging on to my sanity for dear life or dragging it along side my daughter; either one may apply. The muscular ability to keep my eyes from bulging, and my voice from rising is rendered useless. I go off what is called the “deep end.”  Apparently,  my child has super hero like powers forcing my head to explode all over the fiction section of the library. The first super hero bolt is cast when she ignores my quiet plea to lower her voice, decides to continue to go on as she pleases. The screeching, “NO! I’m not ready to leave and you can’t make me,” casts the second super hero bolt through my body. The third and final is cast when my warnings have run out and she proceeds to run up and down the isles screaming, “Don’t take my Howie! That’s not nice! I want to stay and read MY BOOOOOKS!” Mind you my daughter is freaking out because she wants to stay and read books, play with educational toys. Half the library patrons must think I am a monster of a mother dragging my screaming 3 year old child from her beloved books, while the other half thinks what is wrong with that mother to let her child act in such a manner, while the whole lot of them are wondering what in the free world is a Howie? Howie is the god of stuffed animals in our home. He is Katie’s stuffed zebra carried around in duplicate. Yes, that’s right. She has not one, but two of these suckers. Howie is at arms length at all times. He has become my ace in the hole, so to speak. But anyway, the quietest of all quiet places is filled with the sound of my daughter’s shrieking. I walk the long walk of shame to the car where I cannot strap my children into their seats fast enough. Though I’ve left my brains in the children’s ficton section of the library, I some how manage to put the car in reverse, back out of the parking lot and pull out into traffic.Then, and only then, do I holler and scream louder then the raving lunatic strapped into my daughters car seat behind me.  The same old, “That’s it! I’ve had it,” lines are thrown around. “Who do you think you are,” finds its way out of my mouth. Even the,”Do you hear me, young lady?” whopper comes flying out when I can’t think of anything else. Finally, the gavel is lowered with a resounding thud. I deprive Katie of…The Howies. “No Howie at nap OR bedtme! You need to listen to your mommy. I make the rules. NOT Katie!” I holler this rather then explain calmly because she’s still telling me what’s what in the backseat. In the back of my mind I know this is going to be harder on me than it is on her. I think she knows this, too. Nap and bedtime without Howie is like taking away my morning coffee. Brat doesn’t even begin to cover it. Nothing can take Howie’s place. This child sleeps with one Howie on her head, the other tucked under her arm while suckng her thumb-the ONLY time she sucks her thumb. Finally, after many attempts at breaking free Katie gives up and falls asleep in her room without beloved Howie.

Mentally I’m rejoicing at my triumph, but deep inside I know she’s plotting her strategy for bedtime. The victory is short lived as I realize this is probably only a blip on the screen of life compared to what lay ahead. At the same time I am wondering if it is my fault she throws such fits. Am I not the worst stay-at-home mother on record to have such an unruly child? I know I try my very best. Most days I’m pretty even tempered but I am not perfect. Every mother has her boiling point. As a stay-at-home mom I take pride in my job, truly love being home with my kids.  It is a privilege to watch them grow up and become who they are. I cannot and will not blame myself for behavior I know every child will at some point display. If only once in a long while I lose my cool, so be it. It’s only human for kids to live and learn as well as parents.  Good for those parents who have been spared this burden. They are just lucky, but certainly not gifted. At least that’s what I tell myself! 

As I always try to do, I look at the upside because with every down there is always an up if someone is willing to look for it.  One might have to seach really hard but it is there. In this case it is not so hard to pin point. Katie at three is a bright, happy, friendly little girl with a love for life and learning. Everyday she astounds me with her thirst for knowledge, love for others (including me), and the ability to drive me absolutely stark raving mad!