Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.

1.08.2005

Ok, so I lied

I lied when I commented on the Wizbang Blog that I think Dr. Ferber is/was a genius.

The crying it out method works, right? Come on, tell me it works.

WAH! WAH! WAH! WAH!

And, that's not even Stinkerbelle. It's me making that noise. I can't stand it. We thought we'd licked it already. By it, I mean letting her take a sippy cup of milk to bed. Now that she has all those pretty little pearly whites, we don't want the nasty old tooth decay bugs crawling into her mouth and demolishing the teeth like we did with the boys. No sirree. Not this time mister.

Only no one adequately explained this to the satisfaction of a 2-year-old deadset on having a cup of milk come to bed with her. She is now clocking 30 minutes of screaming at the top of her lungs. I tried to be understanding mommy and go back in there, get her a favorite toy, lay her down, caress her forehead, soothe her with kind words and slowly back out of the room. Nope, not going to work.

She proceeds to stand up and scream at me at the top of her lungs. In one of my less than fine mommy moments, I screamed back at her with the same ferocity. She looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my ears. That look. You know the one. I.can't.believe.you.just.screamed.at.me.like.that.
You.never.yell.at.me.like.that.

I couldn't believe I yelled at her like that. But, I didn't want the 2-year-old to get the best of me.

Again:
Kid 1
Mom 0

I shut the door. Ok, so I slammed the door. This further incensed the indignant 2-year-old and she proceeded to start the screaming in toddler speak that roughly translates to You're a fucking bitch mom and I hope your walking cast causes you to slip on the way down the stairs. I'm sure that was it. So, I proceed to go back in the room to further reason/argue/plead with the 2-year-old to please shut the hell up and go to sleep. To this, I hear Army of Dad yelling for me to come downstairs.

He looks at me and asks me exactly what I hope to accomplish my getting into a screaming match with a 2-year-old. All I pretty much hear is blah, blah, blah, aruging with her when she's 14, blah, blah, blah.

Whatever. She is still screaming, my blood pressure is still elevated and now he's playing X-box with the eldest.

I need a drink.

2 Comments:

  • At 11:07 AM, January 09, 2005, Blogger Army of Mom said…

    It is so stressful. I know she is ok, I've checked to make sure all is well. Just have to let her deal with it. I hate it, though.

    We go through this periodically when something causes a change in our schedules.

    This, too, shall pass.

     
  • At 1:14 PM, January 09, 2005, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    When mine did that, I liked to go in and harmonize. There is a place on the musical scale where, when you meet their pitch just right, it sets up a really annoying buzzing sound in both of your skulls. This freaks them out, and they stop. Gladly, they soon start up again, trying a different note, but I soon find the counter to that one. Repeat as neccesary, until there is nothing left but whimpering. Take a large drink in with you, this is thirsty work. If all else fails, get one parent in the scary, full-head rubber halloween mask to charge in, roaring. The other parent 'rescues' the child from the monster, and explains that monsters are attracted by all of that nose. Explain to the child that they are free to scream all they want, and give them a detailed description of their 1st Amendment Rights to do so, but if they choose to continue, next time the monster just might get them, and you will miss them very much. My work here is through.

     

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