STOP YELLING IT IS NOT NICE TO YELL

We have this problem of late, where Bug blows up at the slightest hint of set back.  Mom said no?  SCREAM.  Can't get the Play-Doh molded right?  SCREAM.  Trip over something and someone asks you for help?  SCREAM.  Can't get pants on correctly and Mom asks if she can help?  Violently jerk self away from Mom, YELL, refuse help, YELL AGAIN, maybe fall over, SCREAM.

I've decided this is all due to the fact that a) some bizarre biological mechanism switches exactly at 36 months of age (holy shit, doesn't that sound so young?  Like she's still such a BABY??) b) she has some sort of undiagnosed personality disorder c) she desperately wants my attention/is reacting to me or d) all of the above.

Is this just a three year old thing?  I feel like she has all these emotions, and they come on really strong, and she doesn't know what to do with them.  She used to be fairly good at problem-solving; now it seems as impossible as going a day without eating Goldfish.

(Can I ask, too, what is the best response for this screaming?  Do we ignore completely?  Do we respond right away?  I know she just wants my attention, but when we're in public it makes me want to see if I can trade her in to a mall kiosk for some knock-off perfume.  Usually I crouch down at her level and look her in the eye and calmly explain to her why we cannot scream.  Eight times out of ten she yells once more in my face before calming down (always the last word!) but I wish we could just get back to being more in control of ourselves in public.  Maybe in 18 more years, right?)

I take some of the blame.  Ever since we went to Minneapolis, which was fun but exhausting and non-stop together time for the two of us, I've had little to no patience with her.  She needles me, follows me, repeats me, steps on me, questions me, whines at me, all the time, and there comes a point where as a human being, you start to feel like you're going insane.  And I think I see her behavior worsening as a result of my inability to tolerate, but I can't get my shit together.  I try and break the cycle and be patient with her for a task, and then she drops something heavy on my foot, knocks her head into my windpipe rendering me literally unable to breathe or speak, and I'm back to wanting to ignore her and yell at her to STOP WHINING ALREADY.  GAH!

And then when Matt has days off (like yesterday and today) he swoops in and she's all AHHH DAD YOU'RE SO AWESOME.  And he's so patient with her!  And so good at playing!  He would never think this or say this, but I think, "what is your problem, self?  Why can't YOU have fun with her like this, too?"  And I get it, that we all have strengths in parenting, and that's fine.

But sometimes I feel like Sally Field in Mrs. Doubtfire, when she crashes the petting zoo party and yells at Robin Williams, "Why do you always have to make me out to be the heavy?"  (without the fancy mansion in San Francisco, etc). I remember not really getting it at the time (are you ready for this?  It was released twenty years ago), but now I totally do.  Not that Matt makes me feel that way, of course.  It's just that when he takes her on errands it's somehow this fun big adventure, whereas when she and I go the grocery store together it feels like punishment for both of us.

Today I tried to take more advantage of him being home, instead of forcing myself into every activity, and it's been better.  I've had more patience for her.  She screamed a little bit less during Play-Doh today.  I feel like I'm a better Mom.  Thanks, Facebook, for occupying me for two hours this morning so I could get to this point.

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This past weekend was the Cinco de Mayo festival in Old Town.  The band was playing on Saturday early afternoon, which was way better than last year, when they played on the actual Cinco de Mayo at about 5:30 p.m., and there were a few too many thousand drunk people we had to jostle with.

We took the trolley again, because it's like 1000x easier than driving down there and then paying to park.  Old Town is only two stops north from the stop near our house.

Here's the craziest thing.  This top photo is of Bug last year while we waited for the trolley:

2012, before they re-did this station.

And this is her again this year, waiting in the same-ish spot:

2013, considerably less impressed with my efforts to get a picture of her.  Also, that used to be a dress, instead of just a long-ish shirt.

How is so much change possible in a year?  I know that's a dumb question, because kids grow fast, obviously, but this is pretty amazing.  As all the gigs repeat this summer, it will continue to be mind-boggling (at least to me) to compare the photos.  Also what's alarming is how cute I thought she was in 2012, and now looking at those photos I think, eh, she was cute, but DAMN look at her NOW, and I wonder if this will just continue, and we will have to withhold dating until she's 18. 

Demonstrating her wingspan.

Bug kept asking if Lotte was going to be there, and I kept telling her no, because they moved to Chicago (tear).  But then our other friends surprised us by being there (husband also in band, but originally weren't going to come) and Bug was not only excited to see Mini, but was also beside herself that they BOTH had puppies and BOTH had purple sunglasses (Mini's purchased because she always sees Bug with sunglasses on).  

These girls are maybe 8 weeks apart in age.

Waiving "hi" to Dad.

Someone had spent enough time outside without her hat.  Sometimes I think she's like Brad Pitt in Ocean's 11, and I have to consciously try and get photos of her without her holding food.

And then I decided I couldn't get any decent pictures with the hat on, so it came off again.  Dancing around.

Sigh.

I take a lot of photos (I think I average one keeper for every 20 I take) but the most awesome thing may be the fantastical expressions I capture of Bug that I usually don't share.  Maybe I'll start a tumblr for it although it might be embarrassing for her down the road.  (I know, you're saying to yourself, like this won't be??)

I'd probably fill it with gems like this (if we're friends on FB, you've already laughed at this one).

When I've demolished half a bag of Tostitos in less than three minutes after a rough day and find out we're out of beer.  I'm like:

Toward the end of the performance, Bug started grabbing and crossing her legs, which she never does. Convinced we were five seconds away from a pants emergency, I rushed her around the stage to the changing tent they had set up for the performers.  First I went to the wrong side and couldn't get the velcro open, and while I was struggling some guy with a walkie-talkie came towards us and was all, "What the hell do you think you're doing."

TRYING TO GET IN HERE SO MY DAUGHTER CAN PEE BECAUSE GOD HELP ME I AM NOT USING A SPANKY'S.

I finally figured out which side we were supposed to go in, and I got the potty set up (seriously, the purchase of this thing is pretty much the only reason potty training was ever successful for us).  I am way too cheap to purchase the special "liners" they sell to go along with the potty and usually use the cheap-ass plastic bags from the Commissary.  So I plop her down and she's going, a lot, and of course it starts leaking down onto the asphalt because there's a hole in the bag.  And then the guys are done and people start walking into the tent and she's still sitting there and there is pee leaking from where she is sitting, and because we are on a hill, it is rolling out underneath the tent (although at least away from us) and I'm trying to remain calm like hey, no big deal, kid.  Then Matt comes by and I'm hissing at him about something that has to do with distracting her and getting her out of the tent so I can try and salvage this pee situation and he's not hearing me and it's turning into a way bigger disaster than it ever had to be.

The moral of this story is do a better job of quality control on the bags you grab, and maybe if you're going to be in a non-grassy area, throw in something from your massive collection of unused maxi pads to help make up the difference.

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She keeps talking about brothers and sisters.  I'm fairly certain she doesn't really know what that would entail.  She understands that a brother is a boy, and a sister is a girl.  Usually the dog is her brother.  Sometimes I'm her sister.  I ask her why she'd want one, and she pretty consistently replies "to play with" which is, admittedly, cute and emotionally twisting, until you see her get all rage-y whenever I pay attention to anything other than her (child, animal, plant, doesn't matter) and then maybe it's not as cute.

There are a massive number of girls pregnant again at Strides class.  I still think I'm done (functionally and emotionally??) but sometimes I'm not sure.  I met a friend of a friend at the playground last week, and her tiny baby was just diagnosed with Prader-Willi Syndrome and I got all kerfluffled about a whole bunch of things again.  I talked with her briefly, and was relaying some of the challenges we faced, and it's like I'm talking about someone else that is not me, and was not Bug.  I don't want another baby, I just want Bug back again, as a baby, but without all the other shit that stole the babyhood away from me.  Same shit, different day.

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Bits and pieces:

In other, less depressing news (maybe??), it turns out Charmin Basic is not all that terrible, and saved us  a considerable amount of money at the grocery store over the Ultra Strong we usually buy (every dollar helps, amirite?).

Not to jinx anything (which I've probably just done) but we've gone the last few nights in just underwear after months of dry Pull-Ups.  I wasn't sure how long we were going to keep going with the dry Pull-Ups (and to be honest, we were just reusing them every night, which seemed... uncomfortable) because I couldn't decide on a proper threshold.  If she's dry for a month?  Six?  SOMEONE GIVE ME MAGICAL ANSWERS.  So far so good.  The pacifier, though, she will probably be bringing to college.

She's obsessed with guitars.  I get it, they're fun!  One of the teachers at school plays one for the kids every day, and she loves playing along on some of the small ones they have.  But I have hesitated buying one for her because we do not own an adult-sized one, and neither of us is particularly proficient at it, limiting the fun of playing along.  This morning, though, Matt found the guitar from the Wii, and she seemed entertained enough by just holding it and pushing buttons.  We've yet to let her play with the Wii, but maybe we will some day.  Either way, it seems to have bought us some time (and some pictures).

It rained today, which I shouldn't complain about because the weather here is so great, but I will anyway because we lack activities that don't involve going outside.  Luckily it cleared by this afternoon so we went to the park to work on more bike riding.

We need to get her a better bike that doesn't have the damn coasting feature (this one has the removable adult handle that would allow you to push the tricycle without having to pedal) because it always throws her off.  Still deciding if we get her a bike with training wheels or if that's completely asinine and we just find her another tricycle, although she barely fits in some of the other tricycles we've tried at the R Us.  TALL KIDS, I TELL YA.  Also, she's terrible at steering.