High Drama, Baby

Everything was high drama around here with Julia yesterday. She was beyond crabby; it was as if she was possessed by the spirit of some other baby we haven’t encountered before, a very, very, irrational, grumpy baby whose main form of communication is whining. Or crying. Or whining while crying. Or letting out brief furious, ear-piercing screams just to get your attention, in case you weren’t giving in to her whining and crying fast enough. Yeah, THAT baby. Do you know her? She’s no fun.

So, for example, the Series O’ Meltdowns began upon waking up, when Julia simultaneously did and did not want me in her room, despite having called to me as she always does when she is done sleeping. This made her very annoyed. Mama here, Mama go away, Mama here, Mama go away. You could practically hear the voice inside her head going, “Grrrr! How annoying! Everything Mama does is WRONG!”

Then, there was the issue of the pants. After successfully getting Julia dressed, when I really did not have the energy to give in to whims of fashion (I'm pregnant, people, and TIRED), she threw a fit because she decided she wanted to wear her “wuzzy pats” (fuzzy pants, also known as her dark pink velour pants) instead of the flowered ones she had on. No go, sunshine. Oooh, was she mad. A little later on, she got mad because I got dressed in jeans, but she was denim-free. “Neens! Neens!” she yelled. I know—pick your battles, right? I could have just changed her. But don’t lose the forest for the trees, here. It really wouldn’t have improved her demeanor to put her in either the fuzzy pants or the jeans. EVERYTHING was wrong yesterday. Meltdowns continued all day, over Mama having to put on make-up for work rather than give Julia undivided attention for those five minutes, over not being allowed to draw with pen on her shirt, over suddenly disliking her Sesame Street coloring book because, apparently, there are not enough pictures of The Count in it (all the more confusing because she is actually terrified of The Count).

When Julia first started whining in earnest a month or so ago, it was generally when she wanted something from me (help with something, or for me to read her a book)—usually when I did not respond fast enough because I was busy doing something else. My usual response was, “I don’t like the whining and fussing; you need to ask me nicely and politely.” She learned very quickly to dispense with the whiny voice for a split second, in order to say emphatically, “Peeze!” on command---if only to return to whining the very next second if I still hadn’t quite attended to her request. The one poignant, almost-sweet part of Julia’s behavior yesterday was that, in the middle of a couple of her meltdowns--even though she wasn’t asking for anything but was instead simply falling apart over who knows what—when I said, “Jujee, I really don’t like all this whining and fussing,” she immediately paused in her crying and shouted quickly, “Peeze!” Like she knew she was supposed to say that word, no matter the situation, and she was game to give it her best try, if only for a moment.

Thankfully, today is a much better day. Julia is back to being her normal angelic self. We even got the car today (oh, sweet freedom from the inside of our house!!!!), so we went to Target and after we paid for our stuff, we shared a soft pretzel together at the Target snack bar. When we got home, I was in the kitchen cleaning up a little, and Julia was in the living room by herself. I saw her carry her fairy book over to the coffee table and open it up. Then I heard her say to herself, “Yen….fairy….parkle….yine…wan….nine!!!” Translation: “Ten tiny fairies sparkle and shine—one swims with a swan, and then there are nine!” Then she flipped the page and started in on eight. I could not believe it. I know it’s not reading, it’s memorizing--but Lordy, she’s not even two! Is this the spirit of Self-Entertaining Reader Baby? I’ll take it over Meltdown Baby any day.