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Thursday, January 31, 2008

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It began at 6:45 AM, when the Tongginator started talking loudly to her Doggy, "When do you think Momma will wake up? Yes, I want her to wake up soon, too." Doggy is a beloved friend, whom she's known since she was 15 months old. She often talks to Doggy, but just as often she uses Doggy as a conduit to discuss things with Momma or Daddy, especially during times when she is not supposed to talk with Momma or Daddy. One of those times is at 6:45 AM. Let's just say that Tonggu Momma is not, nor has she ever been, a morning person.

I dragged my sleepy self out of bed, and staggered into the Piglet's room, pinning a pseudo-cheerful smile on my face, trying to fake a pleasant mood until I could consume my first cup of coffee. The Tongginator immediately pounced on me. "Can I wear a pretty dress today?" I sighed, then said, "let me check the closet to see if you have any leggings. I know all of your tights are dirty." Wouldn't you know it? Not a single pair of leggings in sight. I turned and sympathetically replied, "I'm sorry, no, honey. No clean leggings today. You'll have to wear pants, and hopefully Momma will get the laundry done so you can wear a dress tomorrow."

That's when the screaming began. She threw a Tongginator fit as I have never seen before. I interrupted briefly to inform her, "You seem very tired. You need to stay in bed until you aren't tired and screaming anymore." Then I walked out and closed her bedroom door. You could hear the wailing from the street ... and it lasted at least an hour.

The day went downhill from there. At first I thought perhaps it was the Tongginator and I simply clashing ... we do that some days. But things didn't improve when the twins, Pocket and Posies, arrived. (I often watch Pocket and Posies during the week.) Pocket and Posies really tolerated a ton this afternoon. Poor Posies is very soft-spoken and sometimes finds it difficult to act assertively around the Tongginator, despite the fact that she is 18 months older.

The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things were many and varied. I lost track of the number of time-outs. I began writing down revoked privileges, just so I would remember them tomorrow. The final straw occurred when the Tongginator purposefully upended her dinner bowl of spaghetti onto the floor, spilling noodles and sauce everywhere. I made her clean it up and informed her that dinner was over. Since she'd only eaten about four or five bites by that point, corporal punishment seemed unnecessary. Her hungry tummy would provide enough physical pain. Actually, to be honest, I was afraid of myself at that moment, so I decided to avoid touching her at all. I think I made a wise choice. And I think our Social Worker would agree.

Husband took over from there: no bath toys, no book, no "Twinkle, Twinkle." Oh, how she cried.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I just called my mother to tell her that I want to move to Australia. She laughed.

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