Find me on most of the social spaces as Mrs. Flinger
In an effort to launch something in a very short timeframe, after three months of coding in off hours for stints of a few minutes at a time, I used a framework to get *something* out. This is not code I would use for a client. Ever.
In fact, if you could see my face right now, you'd realize this is a little more than painful.
But, as sometimes has to happen with personal projects, the non-paying personal site takes a backseat to quality and gets dressed in handmedown code. Thanks to VMcore for the free ride here.
“Oh that Justin Timberlake”- oh my goodness I’m laughing so hard I might wake up the baby! The next time I’m at Target I may end up descending into a fit of giggles.
Hand to God, I thought 3 was much worse than 2 with ALL FOUR of my kids. Across the board. So, in my book, you haven’t done a damn thing wrong, they get slightly more psycho before they get better!
That’s funny. I was just thinking about how I’m not enjoying the drama of 3 and a half. One second she’s a sweetheart and the next minute she’s saying shit like,“Mommmm! I have to talk to you. You’re supposed to play with my THIS way. And you’re not supposed to talk!” Cue pouty lips and stomping feet and a very confused mother who didn’t realize she was breaking some sort of unwritten play law.
Oh, and wondering why you can’t be the perfect mama who makes pb and j sandwiches and has happy thoughts about her children 24/7? I have that too. But the longer I do this, the more I realize that those perfect mothers don’t exist. And if they seem to, it’s all a lie. That or they are totally repressed and could snap at any moment. I choose not to be a walking time-bomb and live in reality.
Rug in a box, Ha! I’ve come pretty close to buying this:
That’s why we call them the effin’ threes. The other day my son had a meltdown because I dared to try to make him wear the wrong color spiderman underwear on a tuesday. And then I mistakenly believed he should wear pants. His fits would be almost believable if he would just throw himself down and have at it instead of carefully getting on the floor or climbing up on my bed before the wailing and flailing.
I love the threes- provided I have enough motrin.
I JUST posted about the 3 year old thing. Shoot me now.
Do you know WHY you had that thought? Because Cinderella looks like she’s playing with hers. Oh C’mon! Look at the expression on her face! They cropped it just the right way. Yeah, baby, buy my rug in a box baby! That could totally be the packaging design ‘for my first…
ok, I’d better stop there…maybe it’s just me. Hi, I’m 13. Nice to meet ya. Wanna go ride bikes and later peek at my Dad’s Playboys? Someday I’m gonna have boobies like those ladies!
First of all, as usual, you and are right in sync. It does get better though. I’ve got two that are older than our beloved three and half year olds and while they DO have their moments its much better now. The fits for example? Not an issue anymore. The few that happen I can usually nip in the bud pretty damn quick.
Oh and if you make a shirt that says “I blame my children” I will totally buy one. But I’ll need a XXL.
Thank you for this post! I am sorry about three and a half. I am still there and he just turned FOUR. When he was two, he was an awesome kid. As an infant, he would go DAYS without crying. He has made up for lost time…now if we can get through breakfast without a fit, we are doing good.
And that too—the toilet paper thing.
I am with you, sistah! I just hope the fours get better soon or I am going to be carted off to the looney bin.
FIVE minutes of quiet would be nice…
Know that you’re not alone. I have an almost 14 yr old boy, 5 yr old girl and 3 yr old boy. And in all actuality, it’s my girl who is the most difficult. She throws more fits at just turned 5 compared to her 3 yr old brother! I don’t get it.
But reading this blog post, I felt like I was you! I’ve had those very thoughts. Trippy.
You crack me up! Man I miss your humor…in person that is!
Your words are exact, true, and reflect my own pissy struggles with my own kids. I have the exact same thoughts…a lot…and the random times I vocalize them in front of the husband, he pipes out some god forsaken comment that makes me feel more like shit. You know…“Oh, come on trace you don’t feel that.” or “Are you really saying that?”
I know this isn’t what you probablly want to hear (well, read) but life is so much more annoying with two kids when the little one wants to talk and CAN’T! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..the whining. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh….the fits. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….the screaming.
Parenting bliss I tell ya.
Martini tonight? Are you up for it?
i love everything about this post. i swear i am in the 3 1/2 stage and i am going insane. honestly, everyday there is a tantrum about the craziest things. i am researching what could be wrong, b/c i can not believe that it could just be her age ? yes the guilt, yes the ppd. and oh YES I did think of Dick in a box.
3 has always been harder than 2 in our house. Well, until #4 hit the age of 2. He has turned that whole idea on its head. Should 3 be worse than 2 for him then someone might have to lock me up. However, he does the silly little things that make you melt and forget that two seconds ago you were ready to just quit it all. Can I tell you how many times I have wanted to get in my car and just drive away from it all? But I don’t. Perhaps I’m not very pleasant to be around when feeling this way, but I’m still here and that is all that really matters to the small ones. So give yourself a break for feeling the way you do—every parent does at least once in a while.
I never understood why people complained about the terrible twos. Two was easy for us with our first. It was three and four that kicked our butts. Now our daughter is making us pay for laughing at the terrible twos the first time around. I shudder to think what she’ll be like when she hits three and a half. Eek!
Great post! I totally relate. I’m your kind of mom. And I understand completely how PPD can leave you to always wondering whether you are a worthy mother. But you are, of course.
If you’re a 12 year old boy, I’m a 16 year old boy—trapped in a body of a 37 year old woman (how rude is that??).
I saw rug in a box and thought, “sheesh, I’m always trying to get rid of mine, why would I want one in a box—unless it was going to stay there.” And then of course I think of the song detatchable penis. See…it’s all just a slippery slope.
What is it with 3.5 year old girls????
The screaming the drama the chucking stuff about…ooooooh so much fun.
this morning she wants to dress like sleeping beauty…again.
I said wait..but no..so we will head to the mall with her in a pink froo froo dress…and find something else for her to scream about.
If it’s any consolation to you I don’t remember my mom being all sweet la-la let me bake you cookies all the time. She was more of “if you don’t knock it off this second you’re in big trouble missy.” And all three of us turned out great (well my younger brother is a bit spoiled but they went all soft on him cuz he was the youngest). Now that my mom is a grandma is soooo different but I think the idea that mom’s are supposed to be all June Cleaver is retarded.
I think kids have been protesting wiping their butts since the invention of toilet paper. Or at least since 1970… that’s when I went to kindergarten—(TMI to follow) and my mother claims that I’d sit on the toilet before school trying to go, so she’d be able to help me wipe before I went off to school. How pathetic! Or maybe that’s typical, I don’t know.
Even those Moms who seem like they’ve got it all going with patience and cookies & softness have to lose it some time. Have to! Or they have some really good drugs. Or lots of wine.
Are you offering wine? Why thank you, I’d love some!!
Yeah, three and a half almost killed me. There was alottalottalottalotta angsty guilt. Possibly some yelling. And I thought that four would finish me off for sure, BUT I got some really good parenting advice from the V-meister’s teacher that made our lives 100% more pleasant. I’ve been meaning to post about it for ages, because it’s too long for a mere comment. One of these days, though.
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