Today has been a battle of wills. Mine. The Little Imp's. Meg's.
It's also been a battle of attitudes, namely Meg's and the Little Imp's! Now I understand why some women start drinking before the closing credits of Sesame Street start to roll.
I don't know what has Meg's panties in a bunch, but I imagine it has to do with boys...one in particular. Sad thing is, I was really starting to like this one. If you are reading this and thinking about dating my daughter - oh that would be my eldest daughter, the other one, the Little Imp - we've decided she is NEVER dating, so all you two and three year old males out there, give up now....anyhow, if you are a male between the ages of 18-21 and thinking you might like to date Meg, do our household a huge favor....Make sure you make her happy and don't do any dumbass things like continue to see your ex-girlfriend and do things like take her to dinner and to ice cream. See, doing lame things like that tends to upset Meg and when Meg ain't happy, ain't no one happy!
Oh and by all means, if said ex-girlfriend leaves you comments all over your MySpace alluding to all these little clandestine meetings, you might wanna get rid of them because not only is Meg on your MySpace list, you were crazy enough to add her mama too! Oi!
As far as the Little Imp...well she's two, that pretty much explains it all. I must have blocked out the entire period of time the twins were two (it was sixteen years ago, afterall), because I don't remember being THIS tired or this worn out, frustrated, and about to pull every last one of my hairs out! At the top of my list of Most Irritating Things About Being the Mother to a Toddler is....
She. REFUSES. To. Use. The. Potty!
Flat out refuses.
And the next time I read/hear/see another mother gloat about how her little darling was potty trained before one, I'm going to punch her in the face! Maybe I outta just resign myself to the fact that the Little Imp will still be in diapers and nursing when I enroll her in kindergarten.
Today has been no different.
We bought some doggie treats for Casey yesterday because we are (really, we are) going to start training the hound from Hell in earnest and not just here and there. Well, the Little Imp has decided that they are her treats. I think she figures if she looks really cute whilst standing there with the bag of treats that I'm going to give in...
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaase Mommyyyyyyyyyyy, open dem!"
Instead, I didn't engage her in a battle of wills and try and talk her into giving me the bag of treats back. Besdies I didn't feel like running my big butt all over the house and chasing her down all in an effort to retrieve the bag of treats. I let her do what she was going to with them. Sooner or later she'd see exactly why they are for dogs and not for determined and stubborn two year olds!
"Hmmmm, these don't quite look and smell like the cookies I thought they were!"
She did put it in her mouth but I wasn't fast enough and didn't catch the priceless moment of realization that they tasted like crap to a two year old.
Instead she tried to talk to the cat into eating them...
Yeah, I'm choosing my battles, wisely or not.
