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.
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.
1 Comments:
At 11:07 AM, January 09, 2005,
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.
Post a Comment
<< Home