Bad Baby Doll

Park is getting a mind of her own and each day is learning new ways of telling me exactly how she feels. The other week my mom was in town - and when family comes to town I am out all day, everyday, doing something with them. Mom and I had just finished hanging out at Eastern Market but as Park fell asleep in the car, I thought I could sneak in a quick shopping stop. All went well until I was at the register checking out and Park woke up and decided she wanted to get out of her stroller and walk. Side note: Now I know why women have their kids in strollers until they are ten - it's the only way to chain your kid down while you try to have some semblance of a normal public excursion. Anyway, Park started yelling that she wanted to get out and telling the cashier to "hurry up." I tried to ignore her and as I got the last shopping bag in my hand, I pushed the stroller to move out of the line - to no avail. Park took her feet, which can now touch the floor if she takes them off of that little rubber rest thingy, and glued them down onto the floor of the store - which prevented me from moving forward and the line from moving! The more I pushed the stroller the more she splatted them onto the floor. I then decided to demonstrate to all observers what a cool and collected mother I could be by getting down to her level to gently "converse" with her about lifting her feet. As I grabbed them she started moving in a bicycle motion while they were in my hands. It was all I could do to keep from getting kicked in the face. Finally all I DID do was laugh. It was actually hysterical the way she was screaming and we were all held at her mercy. Eventually I guess she thought I was crazier than her and she lifted her feet and we fled out the store.

I am learning that the more hysterical she gets, the quieter I need to be; the more calm I need to be - or else we will both look like two raving lunatics. I was the kid who "dropped and rolled" when I was little and somehow I thought that meant I would have the OPPOSITE in a child. Park is me times 10! I threw tantrums privately at home - for Park, any place is a good place for a tantrum - at church, in the grocery store, at a museum - any where. I NEVER swung at my parents, but Park sees no problem in flailing her arms at me to show her frustration. I don't think I yelled back at my mother - or if I did perhaps I wasn't conscious enough to remember after she surely knocked me out! But Parker has this grunting thing that she does to inflect her demands. How did I get this crazy, strong-willed kid that my sister nick-named Bad Baby Doll?

Maybe she is my lesson in life to be patient; to greet aggression with calmness, to try to find another approach to facing a challenge. With all of the craziness, I know she gets that way with me because I am the person she trusts the most. I am the one she feels free with; I am the one she can share her true self with. So I am the one who has the privilege of her tantrums. But I'll take it - for four and a half years we tried to get a baby in on lives, so I'll take all that comes with it - and remember to duck and move!