Living in a dictatorship

And unfortunately I'm not the dictator; not for the moment anyway. If I am not able to decipher and carry out the almost-two-year old's wants and whims, be ready for the wrath that is unleashed. This is one of those fun parenting stages that most moms conveniently forget to tell you about, otherwise you would look at them like, "Why the hell would I want to put myself through that?"

On the whole, Leah has been a much more calm child than Emma. Emma came out screaming and can pitch a fit with the best of them. Leah, on the other hand, had a few weeks before she could start her screaming. Funny thing is, when she did start screaming in the NICU other patient's parents around us woud comment, "Wow, she's got a set of lung on her!" Umm, actually she doesn't--she was only born with about a lung and a third. But thanks for the compliment! I think by now she has found her full lung capacity and can out-scream any two-lunged kid. Anyway, usually if she gets sent to her room because she is crying, she is out in a matter of minutes proclaiming, "I'm all done crying now." But these days we have entered a new phase--the non-stop, all-out, crying, screaming fit over nothing (well, it seems like nothing to us, obviously its a HUGE deal to her).

To let you know how my day has gone, we've had at least 2 dictator moments. The girls' played at a friend's house this morning while I got to go get my teeth cleaned. The mom said things went okay, but by the time I came to pick them up Leah was ready to go. I guess she wanted her Dora backpack put on before we walked out to the van. My misunderstanding of this request lead to an hour of screaming by Leah. She was put in her room and she screamed, and she screamed, and she screamed. Finally she was starting to calm down so I went to check on her. The girl was drenched in sweat from all that hard work; it was almost comical. We got settled down enough to go the library for a little bit, then onto Hy-Vee to get some milk. Once again, I had a screaming toddler at the checkout. Just call me Loser Mom. I guess the Little Dictator wanted to carry the 1/2 gallon of milk (which she had tried to do earlier but it was "too heaby") and put it on the belt herself. Just like big sister. Once again, my hearing is a bit reduced in my left ear.

I can't wait to see what the next request is that I mess up. These days we're full of "I do it myself", "Me do it", and "Me too". And as with all of these fun childhood phases, "This, too, shall pass." Hopefully sooner than later. I want my position as Head Dictator back.