Turns out, I stood to gain a bit of wisdom from the lyrical genius of Axl and company.
Because lately? My patience with Isabella (already in short supply to begin with) is dwindling to just about nothing, and it doesn't help that my attitude coincides directly with some very undesirable Terrible Two-like behavior on her part.
I will say that it's not "Battle of the Hugely Pregnant, Stressed Out, Crabby Mother versus the Small, Whiny, Temper Tantrum-Throwing Toddler" every day of the week. Yesterday = good day. The previous three days? Not.Good.At.All.
Monday morning began with a Toenails-Being-Plucked-Out-One-By-One-Sized tantrum because the gallon of milk I took out of the fridge was "not right." The astute little demon child recognized that the label on the gallon of milk had indeed changed (since she turned two, she's been drinking 1% as opposed to whole milk). The label is now green instead of red, and she did not like this one bit. Mind you, she has been drinking 1% for almost two weeks now without ever noticing the taste difference, but one glimpse of that green label and she launched herself into a full-throttle fit, screaming "That's not right!" over, and over, and over. She finished her show by hurling her very full, very aluminum Sigg water bottle full of the "not right" milk across the room.
This behavior usually repeats itself at least 47 times a day lately. From refusing to want to get dressed in the morning, to hiding when I need to change her diaper and screaming when I pull her out, to stopping in her tracks and telling me, "I want to hold you" when I'm desperately trying to get her to climb up the stairs to our one and only bathroom because nature is calling (and loudly), and then crying hysterically when I tell her I can't haul her, myself, and her two in-utero siblings up 14 stairs.
When she has an outburst, I usually end up yelling too. And issuing multiple time-outs. I have reached my breaking point more than once in the last few weeks. It is not pretty parenting. I am not proud of my lack of patience or my unwillingness to spend time cajoling, bargaining, or begging her to do what I need her to do. She is so strong-willed, so obstinate, and so stubborn. The problem is, so am I.
I am so exhausted lately that it's getting depressing. I am usually a very high-energy, on-the-go person. I don't "relax." I don't take naps. I work when she sleeps and we stay very active during her waking hours. Until lately. I am tired and cranky and mourning the loss of my stamina. And I am taking it out on her.
Her behavior is typical and while highly f-ing annoying at times, it's expected for a two-year-old. My responses to her behavior aren't acceptable at all.
I want to spend these last two months before the twins arrive enjoying my little girl, whose life as she knows it is coming to an end. But she is so needy and so demanding, and I am so wiped out and impatient with her that things aren't turning out quite like I planned.
"All we need is just a little patience."
Sing it, Axl.