General Preschooler Deviance

People often wonder why a stay-at-home mom cannot piece together two coherent sentences.

After Monday, I know why.

The Hurricane has occasionally had an attitude lately, specifically a bad one. I often struggle with disciplining her as I attempt to mold but not shatter her free spirit. One of the most challenging aspects of her personality is she has always been headstrong and stubborn. And lately her resistance to potty train has translated into different areas of her life. “You want me to get dressed? Too bad. And brush my hair? Don’t you know dreadlocks are ‘in’ at preschool?”

Case #1
On Monday, our power struggles reached a head after two hours of coaxing her to get dressed. I did not have any pressing errands so I decided this would be my day to teach her who was boss. Or to confirm just how subservient I am.

I finally stuck her in time-out with her clothes and told her she could not come out until she was dressed. There was kicking. There was screaming. There were notations taken for Santa’s naughty list. And despite the fact that she professed to be starving, she refused to budge even when I promised I would give her a sampling of her favorite smoothie after she got dressed.

And then Bode and I proceeded to drink some of it in front of her. Because he made me do it.

After 88.5 minutes, she finally relented. For those unfamiliar with P.D.T. (Preschooler Deviance Time), this is actually equal to 3 hours and 10 hours in T.P.T. (Traumatized Parent Time). If I had not been so frazzled, I would have been impressed with her dedication.

Case #2
Hadley then begged me for some lunch so I made some Mac ‘n Cheese and snuck in some pureed butternut squash. All was going fine until she discovered “The funny-shaped noodles” and then the meltdowns ensued as she accused me of poisoning her with goodness. Note to self: ensure there are no chunks of goodness in the puree next time.

Case #3
After lunch, we were all stir-crazy so decided we would bundle up and go play in the snow. Hadley’s hair was disheveled and uncombed (you know: the dread look) so I swooped it up in a ponytail. And then the waterworks were unleashed, “I DON’T WANT A SIDE PONYTAIL. TAKE. IT. OUT!!”

Bode and I left her inside until she got a grip.

During that final tantrum, I had recollections of my pediatrician when I took her in for her 3-month check-up. “She’s a fussy, colicky baby, isn’t she?” he queried. She was extremely calm at the time so I figured it must have been the veins bulging from my head that gave it away.

Before I could give my confirmation, he continued, “Do you know how I know? She has abs of steel from all the crying. She may be a difficult child now but it will all payoff someday in the boardroom.”

If she survives that long to make it there.
HALLLLP! Does anyone have any advice for surviving the Terrible 3s?

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