Dear God in Holy Heaven, Isabella threw the Mother of All Temper Tantrums tonight. I witnessed a couple of toddlers throwing themselves on the ground at the gym recently and I recall thinking, "Been there, done that! I am so happy to be long out of that phase!" I can no longer think so freely and optimistically because apparently my 5 3/4 year-old has regressed to acting like a 2 year-old. Hardcore....
I decided it would be loads of educational fun to head to Borders bookstore to spend the gift card Sophie received from Grandma and Grandpa for her birthday. Loads and loads. Well it turned out to be a load of horse shit and I'll tell you why. I told Isabella that even though she did not have a nifty $20 gift card to spend, she was allowed to buy one small book that she could read to me or with me. No sticker books, no paper dolls, no craft books, no pop-up books, no baby board books, and for the love of sweet Baby Jesus, NO FUCKING STUFFED ANIMALS. I will never understand why all stores, from grocery to sporting goods, feel the need to have displays of over-priced, useless stuffed animals all over the damn place. I have recently filled at least three giant Hefty bags with nearly new stuffed animals that were played with for 10 minutes or less in the time my kids owned them (days, months, years) and donated them to our daycare where the kids go when I teach dance. We don't need one more Webkinz, Beanie Baby, or the cutest little baby pink reindeer that blows kisses. Fuck stuffed animals, they are pointless, useless, and a big waste of money.
Of COURSE Isabella forgot Mommy's rule and demanded I buy her either a "really cheap" stuffed puppy or a reindeer that "only costs three dollars even though the tag fell off--bit I KNOW it's only three dollars!!!". Hellzzzzzzzzzz nnnoooooooo!!! Welcome to Temper Tantrumville! I am your host, Crazy Mom! I will guide you through this treacherous journey of crying, gagging, and screaming. Hold on to your fucking hats because this is going to be a long, bumpy ride!!
Isabella, "But I really want a stuffed animal! Pleeeeeease?!"
Mommy, "No."
Isabella, "Why NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOT?!" {begin gratuitous flow of tears}
Mommy, "Because I told you you may not have a stuffed animal, only a small book."
Isabella, "You never said that!"
Mommy, "Yes I did."
Isabella, "Well I didn't hear you!!" {voice bordering on hysteria}
Mommy, "Go pick out a book now. I am ready to leave."
Isabella, "There are NO books here!!!"
Mommy, "{deep breath, supressed growl} I think we are in a BOOK STORE and I see thousands of books."
Isabella, "They're all dumb."
Mommy, "You have five minutes then we are leaving."
tick tock tick tock tick tock...........
Isabella, "Can I please just have a stuffed animal?!"
Mommy, "Your time is up, you did not pick out a book, we are leaving."
Isabella, at the TOP of her lungs, "NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She runs and grabs a book at random but I am standing my ground. Sorry, Tex, it's too late. I put the book down and try to get her to sit so she can chill and stop causing a scene better than when Sydney and Jane beat the shit out of each other on Melrose Place.
Envision flailing legs, kicking shoes, running away from Mommy every chance I get to grasp her wrist so she stays near me. I almost have her arm then she runs one way so I grab a handful of her hair. It was an accident but the little Hellspawn deserved it. I was so embarrassed, like I have never been with her, even as a two year-old!! Fuck me. She is screaming and gagging. I inform her she will still not be getting a book, she is now grounded for two more days (she fought so much with Sophie Sunday night that the two of them lost TV, computer, and playing with friend privileges for two days. Princess Crackhead is up to four days now.) She is screaming and writhing on the ground. I try to pick her up and she does the limp doll/seizuring boa constrictor maneuver. I place the pile of books I have lovingly picked out for myself down. I hand Sophie her giftcard and instruct her to pay by heself for her book. Isabella has taken off, shoeless, to hide from Mean Mommy Monster. Too bad she is sniffling and doing that hysterical gag whimper so she is easily found. I catch her and hoist her up like a live surfboard on her side. She is kicking me and display racks. She is howling and screaming, "But I found my book. I want my book!!!!" Just as we are about to hit the front door she lets out one more super high-pitched scream so the entire cafe full of people can no longer ignore me. They are looking at me thinking #1) Is she going to beat the shit out of that kid when she gets to the car? or #2) Can't she control that brat? A spastic 44 pound child is really hard to carry while you are trying to leave a store. I make it to the car and kindly warn her that if she runs away from me she will get hit by a car and get smooshed so she needs to park it while I find my damn keys. I had to call my mother to "talk me off the ledge", so to speak. Crazy thing is, I didn't want to hit her, I just ignored her.
So there we were, no books for me or Isabella, no Noodles and Company for dinner, and a bad headache. Grounding with no TV, computers, bike riding, or playing with friends for two MORE days. Ooohhh, I was pissed. I get it why moms just lose it and go ape-shit. It might not be cool or PC or legal, but I GET it. Parenting is a bitch some days. It's unfortunately not really a job you can quit and say, try another line of work. It's like being tied to the mob. You're in it for good 'cause you're family. Never go against the family. It's not like when you worked at the Gap and realized, "Gee, I don't really LIKE retail, just the clothes! I think I'll try computer game design!" It's more like, "Damn, this sucks. How long can I hold out without caving on that TV bit? Who exactly am I punishing here?! Where's that Pinot Grigio?!"
Tomorrow is another day. It most certainly cannot be worse. I will probably attempt to go back to Borders and get my books. But if I see a "Look out for this CRAZY Bitch" poster on the cafe bulletin board, it better have a picture of a certain shorty brunette I know and not yours truly. Or I will be the one throwing a temper tantrum in that Borders hizzle. I've got your stuffed animals right about here...
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