Dirty Looks and Bad Behaviors

If you have nothing nice to say....then you are probably my daughter Vivian lately. If you have dirty looks to share, then you are DEFINITELY my sassy girl....Sigh!

Or you are that lady in the Kohl's store who gave me a dirty look on Friday for putting a backpack leash on my kid. WHAT IS THAT ABOUT, by the way? Yes, I saw that your little boy was perfectly behaved and quiet as you carried him around the store and browsed the clearance racks. Good for you Miss Mommy of the Year!

My daughter weighs a solid 26+ pounds so if I carry her around for more than ten minutes, I look like Quasimodo. Vivian refuses to hold my hand. She loves to run all over the place, throw herself on the floor uncontrollably and yell as loud as she can. So let's not compare ourselves or our children, mmm-kay?

But what really bothers me here recently is not those unspoken comments and mean looks from other parents. That will always be the case in life. Women judge other women (I am guilty of it too from time to time), especially mothers. Nope, what burns my cookies is that my own child acts the worst for me over anyone else.

My husband notices it. My parents notice it. The daycare teacher comments on it. Strangers in the shopping mall obviously see it when she's having a meltdown.

Viv is great for others. Then me, a.k.a. Mean Mama Mandy, walks into the room and Vivian changes her tune. She gets whiney, impatient and difficult. WHAT THE HELL!?



Why do some kids (like my Viva the Diva) inevitably show their truly bad traits and behaviors to their mothers? Are all children like this toward their mommy?

I mean, shouldn't you respect the woman that brought you into this world? She could take you out of it if she wanted to, especially if no witnesses are around. (I've considered it).

Shouldn't my Vivian be jumping up for joy for all the precious moments we share? Instead of screaming like I'm stabbing her over and over again, into my sensitive ears for no apparent reason.

Shouldn't my darling little girl greet me with a smile and hug?
Instead of throwing her full body onto the kitchen floor that has not been swept or mopped in months (and is full of dog hair, oops!) right after I walk into the door.

Shouldn't this girl that I carried around for nine months, all the while gaining 42 pounds, experiencing heartburn and cramps and losing my sanity, just give me some peace and quiet for one evening when I've worked eight+ hours? Instead of having meltdown after meltdown and making my blood pressure rise.

Doctors and nurses say that children are often worse with their mothers over any other person. Supposedly that is because they love their mommies more. Grrreat! Way to make me guilty over calling my daughter a little witch (except I used the other word. Oh yes, I did. shame on me!) It's all because our children just love us so much, right? That's what people tell us.

Do you buy that load of dirty laundry? Or is this just something that we women and mothers tell ourselves to help us deal with motherhood and the rough times?

I don't have the answers. I just have my bad days and frustrating thoughts when I'm like.... "Why can't I have the mellow kid?" People will say, oh, you have a spirited, passionate girl. (which is a code word for - you have the drama queen, spoiled rotten kid). Is she spoiled? Maybe she is.



Soiled is more like it though when I'm changing poopy diapers 2-3 times a day.

Let's be honest though - some parents just have it easier than others and some children are more adaptable with milder personalities than others. Some make it look easy (whether it is or not, I'll never know). And some folks out there really do claim to love every minute of it. (Not me, but it has some perks from time to time).

I struggle with motherhood daily even after these 20 months, but it's getting a little better with time. I have a fierce little girl who lacks any patience. I'm kinda impatient myself though; so together, we often become frustrated.

However, that is what makes our lives interesting and challenging (and quite comical). If it were easy, then I'd be bored and have nothing to talk about. Or more likely, I'd find something else to whine about (like Kirk does with poltics and global issues).

For now, I take it one minute at a time, one dirty look at a time, and one long, piercing scream at a time. I have this crazy little girl and I must put on my big girl panties to deal with her (an expression my fellow Alabama friends like to say about being an adult and taking responsibilities). And when my daughter goes from happy and laughing to terrible and tantrum-like in mach speed, I just have to wait it out, ignore her or pretend she's not mine for several minutes (or longer, definitely longer).

While I wait, I'll just reach into Mandy's medicine cabinet for the proper drugs to make me feel better again -- a cold beer in the fridge, tortilla chips and salsa. Hey whatever gets you through, right! :-) At least until she is back to her lovable, joyful self again.