Emphasis on the MANIC.
Let me start off by saying, I love my children. So much it hurts. And I am so blessed in so many ways.
Today is one of those days where I honestly wonder if my three year old is possessed.
One minute she's happy, joyful, bubbly, ecstatic!!! Puppies and rainbows and rah rah, YAY!!!!!! And then BAM! She's a screaming, crying, flailing banshee from the depths of the underworld.
Ok, that may or may not be an exaggeration. Leanings towards NOT.
The logical, level headed, intelligent side of me knows this behavior is very typical of a three year old. I get that. Really, I do. Testing boundaries, asserting independence, learning to express emotions, yada yada yada. yada. Roger that.
But the emotional, human, tired side of me JUST WANTS YOU TO PUT YOUR PANTS/LEGGINGS/DRESS/SHOES ON/BRUSH YOUR TEETH/TALK IN A QUIET VOICE/ STOP LICKING YOUR SISTER/*Insert perfectly reasonable request here*! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!
And you know what really gets me? She is an exact carbon copy of.....me. Stubborn? Check. Emotional? Check. Quick temper? Check. Except I am the adult here. I *should* be able to regulate my emotions. I know how to express my feelings in ways that do not involve kicking/screaming/throwing. But yet that's where I end up 95% of the time. Arguing with an emotionally charged preschooler about something that is not worth arguing about. Throwing the adult version of a three year old tantrum. Issuing empty threats that I KNOW I won't follow through on. And the super stellar part of that? She knows it too. So we end up screaming at each other, crying and stomping around until one of us ends up in our room for some quiet time.
SO. MUCH. FUN.
Once the storm blows over, we're back to love fest 2011. She tells me things like "Mama I love you as much as a rainbow!" And I feel horrible for yelling and threatening to sell her to the gypsies*. And we hug and cuddle and love and go on with our day. Until...BAM!
Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Until she goes away to college. And then we can do this all via text.
*Note: I don't actually tell her I am going to sell her to the gypsies. I only dream about it during quiet time.