Is there any way that I can pass that off as a blog post? I mean end it right here and call it a night? 'Cause when you get right down to it, that kind of says it all. No funny story. No witty repartee. Just the meat and potatoes. I am too nuts to write. I blame my children. I also blame them at present for my inability to form a cohesive sentence, my pounding headache, my inexplicable desire to spit on my hand and wipe every one's "shmutz" off of their faces, and so much more. And I am willing to talk about it.I mean let's face it, people don't want to talk about their children's problems. They don't want to bring up all the negative stuff. They sure don't want to blog about just how much they are not liking little so and so right now. No way. It's always "oh my little Amy is so precious, just look at her at her recital. She's the best dancer in the whole group'. But, life isn't always like that. Forget my tantrum throwing son and my catty daughter. We know who we have to focus on. It's her again. Someday, many, many years from now, I will let them read these blog posts and one of two things will happen; she will either enroll immediately in a college as far from me as possible and begin a stringent course of psychotherapy, or she will smile and kiss me and thank me for allowing her to make it through her teen years. I am hoping for the latter. This is all of course contingent on the notion that I make it through her teen years, or her pre-teen years, or heck, through her preschool years! Right now, it aint looking too good. Each and every day we fight. Yes, I fight with a four year old. I try to reason with her. I try to discipline her. I try to reign her in when she is so far gone in to tantrum land that only Kya our dog can hear her. Nothing works. I pull out every trick in my mommy arsenal. I bust out old taped copies of Supernanny, Nanny 911, the bible just hoping something will click. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Nada. And so, generally after giving it a valiant effort, the yelling begins. Some days we can go a long time before the yelling starts. We're talking 5, 6, 7 minutes after we get up. It starts with the what to wear argument- one I tried to give up on long ago. It then spills out into the kitchen with the ever popular "I don't want that for breakfast" argument. It usually escalates with the "I'm not going to school today" argument. And things just get worse from there. I remind you that this girl is four. Four. F. O. U. R. Just old enough to wear me down.
And I will continue to blame my kids (sssh really just one) for the bulk of my woes. While I am at it let's blame the economy crisis on her too. Looking back I never, NEVER had a problem with Cameron. I know girls are different, LOTS different, but mannnn If I only knew what I was really in for. Okay, so enough of my fret. It's amazing what we would do for our kids, and I have made it sound like she's a bad child, in which case she is not. Just alot of "everyday" tantrums. That's all. I speak like it's nothing, or I shall sound like it's nothing. But, in essense It really wears you out. In sight of things, I do have to say.... I will not, I repeat NOT give up and let her win. I will continue to hold a tight rein on her until she figures it out. Maybe when she's 50 I will be able to cut her loose. LOL Lets hope it doesn't take that long.