Yesterday was awesomely bad. Wicked bad as they say on the east coast. Yesterday was one of those bloggable, “oh my god, I’m so blogging this” days. Sadly, today hasn’t been much better.

The person who coined the term “terrible two’s” obviously never had a three year old and definitely didn’t have one like K. With my boys I definitely felt three was more of a challenge, but with the girl? Terrible has gained more meaning from the day she turned three.

I’m saying this with love, with total adoration for my beautiful baby. She is smart and really is quite sweet at times. She has always been a bit more hard headed than my boys ever were, but lately the screaming has gotten out of hand. I am not joking when I say that my hearing may actually be damaged by the shrill screams.

She loves to hate me. Trust me, she tells me in between the “you’re my best momma” declarations, that she hates me and that I’m a meanie stupid head – although lately I haven’t even gotten the meanie stupid head starter because she has just launched right into rotten-ness and then I’m in the middle of the grocery store hearing “waffles, not two packs, one.” “one waffle” “one waffle” “one waffle”

“ONE WAFFLE” “You aren’t listening, onewaffleonewaffleonewafflewafflewaffle”

OMG I just need eggs, bread, milk, cereal, fruit, eveyrthing that we don’t have because I’ve been afraid to come to the store with you for a week and a half now. I want to leave the store so badly but we will all starve if I do!

I feel like I could cry. She is the youngest of three and yet I feel like I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. She doesn’t ever accept that she isn’t going to get her way until she has pulled out all the stops. I am almost certain that my neighbors think there is something awful going on at our house. It has been in the 70′s and the windows are wide open. The shrill screaming and incoherent yelling that comes out of this child’s mouth is embarrassing.

I’m not a horrible mom. I don’t over or under indulge and I spend plenty of time with her. (Although, I did have to lock myself in the bathroom this morning to complete my Boden order without slamming my head through the screen.) That said, there MUST be something I am doing wrong, or something I’m not doing right.

Help me, please give me advice on things I can try. I’m totally open to your input!!!

Yesterday was awesomely bad. Wicked bad as they say on the east coast. Yesterday was one of those bloggable, “oh my god, I’m so blogging this” days. Sadly, today hasn’t been much better.

The person who coined the term “terrible two’s” obviously never had a three year old and definitely didn’t have one like K. With my boys I definitely felt three was more of a challenge, but with the girl? Terrible has gained more meaning from the day she turned three.

I’m saying this with love, with total adoration for my beautiful baby. She is smart and really is quite sweet at times. She has always been a bit more hard headed than my boys ever were, but lately the screaming has gotten out of hand. I am not joking when I say that my hearing may actually be damaged by the shrill screams.

She loves to hate me. Trust me, she tells me in between the “you’re my best momma” declarations, that she hates me and that I’m a meanie stupid head – although lately I haven’t even gotten the meanie stupid head starter because she has just launched right into rotten-ness and then I’m in the middle of the grocery store hearing “waffles, not two packs, one.” “one waffle” “one waffle” “one waffle”

“ONE WAFFLE” “You aren’t listening, onewaffleonewaffleonewafflewafflewaffle”

OMG I just need eggs, bread, milk, cereal, fruit, eveyrthing that we don’t have because I’ve been afraid to come to the store with you for a week and a half now. I want to leave the store so badly but we will all starve if I do!

I feel like I could cry. She is the youngest of three and yet I feel like I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. She doesn’t ever accept that she isn’t going to get her way until she has pulled out all the stops. I am almost certain that my neighbors think there is something awful going on at our house. It has been in the 70′s and the windows are wide open. The shrill screaming and incoherent yelling that comes out of this child’s mouth is embarrassing.

I’m not a horrible mom. I don’t over or under indulge and I spend plenty of time with her. (Although, I did have to lock myself in the bathroom this morning to complete my Boden order without slamming my head through the screen.) That said, there MUST be something I am doing wrong, or something I’m not doing right.

Help me, please give me advice on things I can try. I’m totally open to your input!!!

This is me and my Sista (as in sorority sister – Gamma Phi Beta – Vanderbilt) Leslie.  Leslie lives not too far from me, but we don’t get to hang all that often so we ditched the families this weekend and headed to Beaver Creek for a day of kid-free skiing.

I’m thinking $30 sounds good.  So….

I can’t believe I’m blogging about barf again. I’m so tired of barf. Cleaning barf. Hearing barf. Smelling barf. Enough with the barf yet? Be glad I didn’t find any suitable barf pictures to post.

With three children, the barfy bug incubation period is perfectly timed so that it plows through the family and, just when you think everyone is back in school and healthy, the primary infector is reinfected. I think our violin teacher must think I’m crazy because for about three weeks now at least one of my children has been sickly. I promise I’m not lying!  This one is truly a doozy!

I feel horrible for my poor babies. Their pale faces are drained and they have barely enough energy to plop down on the couch and moan for “sickie pop”. A sickie pop is a Pedialyte freezer pop.  My kids prefer them over drinking the liquid. This frozen pop goes down nice and slow, so if it isn’t going to stay down at least the volume of substance isn’t too overwhelming…. ugh.Â

This is my SuperGirl, otherwise known as Katherine.  With two older brothers and a doting Daddy she can, at times, be a “POW”.  No, not a “Prisoner of War”.  In the Bryan household POW stands for “Piece of Work”.  Yes, POW has had quite the week.  Beating up a best friend, using “poopie head” in almost every sentence, and destroying the plantation shutters in her bedroom, has kept her busy.  

I mention this because yesterday was a wee bit of a challenge for me, if you hadn’t guessed from my blog post.  I allowed myself a nice glass of wine at the end of the day, because let’s face it, I deserved it after the day I had had!  Looking back, it may have been more like two glasses of wine…. or so.

In any case, I woke up a little groggy this morning and heard the pitter patter of little feet.

“Momma, I barfed.”

I know that every mother out there has an instant flash of what the day will be like when they wake up to a declaration of barf.  This is exactly where I was at 8am this morning.

Why is it that preschool children always have to barf on the days they would normally be going to school?  

Why is it always on the day when the last drop of milk has been drunk and there are two slices of bread left?  

I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy staying in my jammies with her.  This sweet child curled up in my lap and told me I was her “best Momma ever”.  I love the “best Momma” moments.  The fact that I am her only Momma is lost on me.  The images of yesterday wash away.  All of the things I had to do today can wait.  This child, my SuperGirl, is telling me a love story.  The kind of story I want to last forever.  This is totally worth being a barf Zamboni operator for.   

I want everyone to know that I am no longer Queen of the “meanie stupid heads”.  I am “best Momma ever”. 

For today anyway.