Irish Daisy

Just when one might worry I’ve gotten complacent or that I may be deluded into thinking I’ve got this parenting thing figured out…I give you this: Driving 1.6 miles from Target to home. From the back seat, “Mmmmmeeeaaaaahhhhhh!” Starting as a low moan, rising in tone and volume to a prolonged, whining screech. Me: “What?!?! What is that? Badger? What is wrong with you? Are you hurt?” Badger: “Uuuuhhhhhh! Mmmmmwwwwaaaahhhhh! Eeeeehhhhh!” Me: “Why are you making that noise?!?!?! Girls, what is wrong with her? Is she hurt?” Middle Puff: “No, her seatbelt is tight. She can’t loosen it.” Badger: “AAAAhhhhhh! Mmmmmeeeehhhhhhhh!” accompanied by audible jerking on the locked seatbelt. Me: “That’s it? Badger, we’ll be home in two minutes, less than two minutes, you’re fine until then. Just sit up and deal for another minute and we’ll be home. We have frozens, I’m not pulling over! You’ll be fine for two minutes.” Badger: “MMMMMWWWWAAAAAAHHHHH!” louder, shriller ...

A friend’s twins are turning two next month, so she asked for some tips on dealing with the “terrible twos.” First, I had to give her the sad, sad news that the twos are not so terrible – at least not when compared to the tyrannical threes and F-U fours. [Yes folks, we've survived for a third time and we're in the clear...for two years before the oldest hits her teens...sigh] Of course, she doesn't have the perspective to appreciate that yet and parenting is pretty immediate – what's it doing now and what the hell do I do with the rampaging heathen wreaking havoc on my life? Join me, friend as we tiptoe through the minefield of a two-year-old psyche. Tiptoe, Tiptoe, BOOM!  If I can't see, you can't see me...as I have a hangry tantrum...in a spotlight. Imagine you’re in the land of Gulliver and you took two years of Gullivarian in school so you get the gist of what everyone is saying, but you can’t make your brain come up with the right words to tal...