Grace is starting to push. Figuratively and literally.
This is on top of the hitting and throwing. Thankfully she is not biting yet, but I say yet because biting is rampant in her daycare class and I assume she will get on board with that soon enough.
It makes me feel like such a horrible parent A) that she feels the need to lash out at me and B) that I don’t know how to deal with it.
She doesn’t hit Matt. She just hits me. I’ve been trying to be more firm with her. She drops her hands, cowers back and waits until I drop my guard. Then she attacks again.
When she is doing something she knows is wrong, like standing tippey toed on the kitchen chairs while trying to fish the jar of chewable vitamins off the microwave, she calls for my attention. ‘Sit Doowm!’ She exclaims and does such as soon as I turn around to reinforce it. Then stands right back up as soon as my back is turned.
I don’t get it. It is making me crazy.
Last night, after the typical diaper wrestle – dry the butt – put on cream – fend off kicks – keep her from flipping over and smearing the expensive cream all over the table – give in and let her flip - place her back down on the table – get diaper on – stuff arms into the pajamas – fend off kicks – stuff feet into the pajamas – zip up pajamas – BIG HUG – she changed the ending on me. Instead of BIG HUG she put her hands on my breast bone and pushed me away with all her might.
I wanted to crumple.
I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she is just beginning the toddler phase of self assertion. I know this. On a cerebral level. My heart was filling with rage and tears though.
So I handed her off to Matt without a word. No good night kisses. No night-night games. I was done.
Now that I’m writing this though, I guess I acted the child just as much as she was. At least Grace had an excuse.