Making and Breaking Friends

Last week at gymnastics class Maggie had one of those experiences that breaks a Mama's heart. She had a run in with the real world.

There is a little girl in her class this semester that had been in her class last year as well and the mom and I have become casual friends. This little girl was having a rough time last week. If we had been playing t-ball she would have been the little girl off in left field picking daisies and doing cartwheels instead of playing the game. Maggie wasn't doing so well either - she would have been the little girl crying in the dugout because Mommy couldn't sit by her.

So at the beginning of the class there is warm up, and all the kids walk/run around the gym to get there hearts pumping. The little girl wanted to hold Maggie's hand to walk, and Maggie wanted to hold Mommy's hand, and the little girl got upset. The teacher distracted them both and everything was fine. But then later in the class...

We sat down next to the little girl along the wall to listen to the teacher's instructions. Normally I wouldn't have to sit there, but since Maggie was being clingy that day I was stuck chilling on the wall. The little girl looked at Maggie and said, "I don't want to sit by Maggie! I don't like her anymore!" Fighting back my urge to either tell the girl, "Well, we don't like you either!" or punch her in the face, I said, "Oh, that's too bad, why don't you like her honey?" And the little girl said, "Because she got scared of me!"

OK, so that stinks, but this is how two-year-olds express themselves and I have to deal with it. I didn't think Maggie really cared or understood until later that day she brought up this conversation, saying "Mama, that girl doesn't like me anymore." I just wanted to cry. Maggie was OK though, she rationalized it, told me that the little girl must have been feeling yucky that day.

I was feeling so sorry for the situation, how sad it is for a two-year-old to learn that some people, no matter how nice you are, simply won't like you. But then I got to see the real damage that was done. Maggie said to her dad the other night, after being disciplined for some minor infraction or another, "Daddy, I don't like you anymore!" Then last night during bedtime (we still hate bedtime) I got it too, "I don't like Mommy anymore!" Great. Can I just keep her locked in the house until she's 18? The influence of outsiders really sucks sometimes.

Bee-yana!

Maggie starts dance class again next week, and it can't start soon enough. She put on a little recital for us today, complete with IPod accompaniment (who new that "Bachelorette Party" playlist would be a toddler favorite - although I probably should remove the Biggie Smalls songs now that she can talk). She kept telling me and her dad to "Stand back, stand back!" Wouldn't want to invade her dance space. There were spins, jumps, rump shaking, floor moves, skipping, tip-toes, and lots of bowing. At one point she stopped dancing, stood still, and starring at the floor said, "The floor is moving!" I think maybe a few too many spins dizzy baby.

If you weren't paying attention you'd think she was just being a spazzy kid running around the floor, but she actually has moves. You can pick out specific, repeated movements when she "dances". She even tries new moves and tries to make her body bend and move in unfamiliar ways. Do all two year olds do this? I wonder...

Oh - and Bee-yana (the title of this post) is how Maggie pronounces Ballerina. I often think is sounds like an insult, "You better watch out for that girl, she is a real Bee-yana."

It's funny to me that I can look at Maggie all day long and think, "My God, when did she get sooo big!" And then night falls and my big girl turns into a big baby. Is it possible for a two and a half year old to have colic?

It's our fault really, we've become very lax on the bedtime routine since Catie was born. The actual time of bed has slowly been moving later and later, and now there is requisite "Barbie Movie" watching involved. Add to that a nap that is frequently left clutching it's bag by the side of the road and you've got what happened last night - the mother of all tantrums. I'm talking the kind of tantrum where you have to ask your kid if she's going to barf, the kind of tantrum that can get CPS called on you because she literally sounds like she's being killed.

I spent about an hour and a half last night prying my inconsolably pissed-off kid off of my back, my legs, my shoulders, and depositing her into what seems to have been boiling hot lava, every time she hit the sheets she slithered off to the floor, scrambled to her feet, and attempted to tackle me. At one point, seeing that begging and pleading, crying and screaming, weren't working in her favor, she actually resorted to swatting at me. Why do kids think that if things aren't going their way the sure fire way to get what they want is to do something that will make Mom dig in her heels even further?

Finally she had exhausted herself so thoroughly that she accepted my offer of hand-holding until she could calm down (and launch another attack). I slowly counted to 100 while she laid in bed with her chest heaving, still choking on tears and slobber. I only made it to 25... and she's out. Time for bed.

Baby Poop

Changing Catie's diaper this morning...

"Mama, that baby poo poo??"
"Yup, Maggie, that's baby poop."
"That poo poo yucky, the baby poo poo should go home to her mommy and daddy."

I'm Sure You'll Be Jealous of This One...

I probably shouldn't be telling you this... because I don't want all you fine women to be jealous of me, and I know you'll totally want to get with my man after you hear... that he has an "emergency golf bag". Just in case you find yourself in the middle of a golfing emergency, you'll be prepared to...you know... GOLF!