"I'm sorry Ma'am, but it's rather more serious than we thought"....

It's official. Little P is suffering from a very severe case of 'EOP' (that's 'Early Onset Puberty'). Symptoms include acting like they are a teenager, hating everything, refusing to do anything they are told, and generally just making their parents life a living hell (this has also been referred to in the past as the 'Terrible Two's').


That's right beautiful people. My charming, delightful little girl is acting like a 13 year old - expecting the world to explode if she doesn't get her way. It's funny though, when I tell people this is what is happening the standard reaction is 'No. Not that sweet little thing'. Yes, that 'sweet little thing'. Don't get me wrong, there a moments, lots of them, when she's her normal, fun, energetic self, and then there's THOSE moments, when I'm just waiting for her to start spewing pea soup and cursing me out.


So far this week, we have had a monumental meltdown about what to wear (that's right, my nearly one and a half year old had a tantrum about what clothes she was going to wear), pitched a fit about having lunch, hated all of her stuffed animals (she threw them all down the stairs and then blew a raspberry at them), has hit me (and then threw another fit when I reprimanded her about that) and has just generally made me want to curl up in a corner with my hands over my ears going 'nah, nah, nah, nah'.


I know it's a phase. I know most kids go through it at some stage, some earlier than others, and there are others who don't hit it till they are four. But knowing all this doesn't make going through it any easier. I swear she's just doing things that she knows perfectly well will push my buttons and get me close to breaking. Close, oh so very close, but somehow I always manage to avoid totally losing it. Wine helps. A lot.



I guess at the end of the day, I just need to look at it as preparation for when she is a teenager...... and stock up on wine (a lot of it).


So, till next time, here's hoping I still have all my hair, that my house hasn't burnt down and that I haven't been institutionalized.


K


Mommy-ism #26: Little ones are fickle (kind of like teenagers). One day they just lurve this toy, the next it's stuffed behind a chair never to be seen again. One day all they want is to be picked up by you, the next it's like 'don't touch me'. One day they can't get enough of their banana's and vanilla yogurt, the next, it winds up on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and you. If this is what I have to look forward to when she hits 13, I'll take a rain check, thank you very much.