I love my toddler. She’s a blast.

Today she’s a blast in my ass. She’s having another drama queen day and boy if that isn’t my favorite thing in the whole wide world! Everything is tear worthy. Everything. I’d be ok with a little boo hoo if she didn’t accompany her waterworks with loud screaming/screeching/crying/banshee envying/OMG WHAT IS THAT NOISE… while standing next to the peacefully sleeping baby. Didn’t she get the memo? You know, the memo that states, “If you wake the sleeping baby, Mommy will not only be cranky but will have LESS time to devote to you, the almighty toddler.” I swear I have a signed copy around here somewhere so I know I gave it to her. Darn toddlers and their teeny tiny attention spans.

And I really shouldn’t complain about her eating, she eats anything and everything. But I’m just not a big fan of the have the “one bite of item she whined for, then reject it as evil, then demand something else (that will undoubtedly be rejected) to replace the sin” diet. I don’t care which celebrity actress is hawking it, I AIN’T BUYING!

The One Bite Diet

The one bite diet

OH! And the Independence Day diaper-free-fest has been overthrown in favor of the wear-the-same-diaper-all-day-fest. As though her pee is sacred and special and taking it away or putting it in the potty will cause the ascension of evil to take place in our backyard. She won’t let me change her diaper peacefully, yet won’t use the potty. So I let her sit in her royal wetness until it gets on me, and then I hold her down and force a change or at the very least, a removal of the sodden dipe.

Although I have to admit: watching her right now as she tries to figure out how to get breast pads to stay in her shirt is pretty darn funny. OK, but now she’s smacking me with them while saying “touch, touch, touch, touch, touch.” And I was this close to letting her adorableness take all the gaaaah! away. Oh well. At least she's into nursing. And hey, she’ll be sleeping soon and then I can drink myself into a stupor. Oh wait, I have another child to care for and she’s a nursling. My drunken stupor will have to wait.

Hmmm… look out Jenny, I’m in serious contention for the bad attitude award. And Sista, I’m gaining on ya.

Maybe I'll feel better if you all do your homework. I could use me some kick-ass kitchen rags.