Sunday Night Tantrum
It’s 9 p.m. on a Sunday, and I’m sitting here watching Babygirl, who is thrashing around on the floor at my feet, howling and crying, pulling at my legs, pulling my arm, yelling:
“I’m hungry Get up Put your computer away Get me a snack I won’t go to sleep until you get me a snack!!!!”
She didn’t want to eat dinner when it was offered. She was also offered a heavy snack before bedtime, yogurt with whipped cream (a fave) but she picked at it and I had to wrap it up and put it away. I made her a glass of warm milk with Carnation Instant Breakfast, anticipating that she’d get hungry; the drink is right here on the bedside table, but she’s refusing it.
“Get up Get up I need you! I need you to get me a snack! Get up Get up Get up I’m trying to tell you something- You have to get Uuuuup!” She’s poking at me, screaming, pushing and pulling at me.
Meantime, I’ve explained once that she needs to eat when it’s time to eat, and if she doesn’t want her warm milk, she can go to bed.
Still, she howls.
Sigh. We’ve had tantrums from Babygirl almost daily. Something will set her off, and she’ll go on and on for an hour or more.
Up to now, it’s been a good weekend. Hubby was away with the team, but the kids and I got in alot of fun activities, and even did their homework. Today, they even went sledding for the first time! It was a hit, which surprised me. I personally hate sledding. I hate the motion of moving downhill with speed. I hate sledding, skiing, slides…. But the kids apparently didn’t inherit that gene. At least, they had no issue with the small hill they went down today.
They helped cheer for their team today, to no avail. Hubby’s season is over, which is both good and bad. Good, in the sense that we’ll have far fewer solo parenting stints, and we can actually make plans. Bad, as Hubby will surely be bummed, and, well, it’s just bad when the team loses.
“Mommy Mommy Mommy you’re NOT doing your job! I need you to get up and GET ME A SNACK! If you don’t get up I’ll keep acting like this! Can you please get up! GET UP UP UP UP” pushing and prodding, poking at me “Momy Get up Get Up Get Up I need a snack I NEED A SNACK…”
Then, “What are you typing?”
Me: “I’m writing down every word you’re saying.”
“Why? You’re not writing to Santa Claus? You’re not telling Santa Claus are you?”
Me: “What if I am?”
Babygirl: “DON’T! Don’t send it to Santa Claus!” Here she tries to pull my hands away from the keyboard. “PLEASE DON’T SEND IT TO SANTA CLAUS! Erase all of it!”
Me: “Why don’t you want me to tell Santa Claus how you’re acting?”
Babygirl, crying hysterically: “Because he’ll get mad! He’ll get mad! Erase it!”
Then, thinking, “And, he may get so mad that he doesn’t bring you any presents either! Don’t send it to him, you won’t get any presents either!”
Me: “How about if you drink your milk, and then I’ll erase it?”
We negotiate. She drinks some milk. Then:
“Can I sit in your lap?”
Okay. Time for night-night!