A Glimpse into My Future

Last night I had a glimpse into my future and I am here to tell you, it wasn't pretty. My (almost) 4 year old daughter, Paige, had a melt down of teenage magnitude. Help me, Sweet Baby Jesus, for when she actually is a teenager, I fear it will be even worse. Last night, it was anything but funny, but today, as I shared my tale with a friend, I managed to find humor in it. Here, for your reading pleasure, (and please feel free to laugh at my pain) I will transcribe last night's events.

**Please note that no parties in the following true story were anything but superficially harmed and will not suffer any permanent damage (fingers crossed.)**

I got off of work early to spend some quality time with my beautiful children. I had a great day at work and was excited to see them. Things couldn't be better. They began playing nicely with each other with the balloons that I had brought home from work for them. That was my first mistake. NEVER get too comfortable with a 4 year old and a 6 year old. The ruckus began.

Hudson yelled, "She punched me!" Paige yelled "He went like this!" and grabbed at the front of her shirt. I tried to get the whole story, which is next to impossible at this age, but the most I got was that Paige punched Hudson 'cause Hudson "went like this."

I told them that since they were unable to get along, we would NOT be getting ice cream as a treat. Apparently, that is code for Paige to assume that not only would we not be getting ice cream but I would also be brutally murdering her in her sleep because she literally burst into tears and started screaming "I'll be good! I'll be good!"

Now, my beautiful, funny and charming daughter has always been somewhat dramatic and this is not my first rodeo with the meltdowns. However, this one was as swift as it was fierce. It came like a ninja in the night - out of nowhere. I calmly told her that she would not be able to leave her room until she calmed down and stopped crying. Then Hudson and I left the room.

This tactic is like trying to eat tomato soup with a fork. It just doesn't work. She kept screaming and crying. And she does this thing with her right leg whenever she gets upset. She locks her knee and leans on it so that it almost looks like it was bent backwards. She does it every time and once the leg is locked, there is no turning back.

We were in the living room trying to read a book and I could hear her screaming and crying the whole time. Then she started screaming "My leg hurts, my leg hurts!" Ya think? You have it bent almost in half in the way it is NOT supposed to be bent. So, because her leg hurts so bad, she army crawls, yes army crawls, as if under fire into the living room to tell me that she is hurt. I said "What hurts?" She screams "My leg! My head! It hurts!" I told her that if she calmed down she would stop hurting. She started grabbing at her neck, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!" I said, "Then you need to calm down." She screamed "You are so mean!" and ran back down the hall into her room and slammed the door.

Then, I admit it, I kind of lost it. I followed her to her room and swatted her behind. I said (well, I kind of yelled it) "You can't talk to me like that and you are staying in this room until you can calm down and treat people nicely." Then I slammed the door.

And then, like any mom (I almost said "good mom" but then decided against it because I am not entirely sure it would be true) I stood outside her door and listened to her rant and rave. Yes, my (almost) four year old was ranting and raving. She said (and this is almost verbatim) "I don't want a dog. I don't want a pony. I don't want my bed. I don't want noffing. I just want my daddy." She said this over and over again. (I m not sure why she is denouncing the pony, she doesn't have one, nor has she ever been promised one, but she was adamant that she didn't want one.)

Then I felt bad. I thought about (right or wrong) how she must feel and that I had hurt her feelings. I couldn't stand listening to her crying. I opened the door to talk to her. She looked up at me and screamed "GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" (Projectile vomiting of pea soup was not out of the realm of possibilites, at this point.)

Yeah, the compassion that I was feeling immediately left my body and all I could see was red. I believe there was actually steam coming out of my ears. (She got swatted again.) Then I started in on the "Do you pay the bills in this house? No, I do! THIS IS MY ROOM!" Seriously, Lynsey? You are doing this with a four year old? But I did. I left and slammed the door again. Poor little Hudson was just chillin in the living room with his book, waiting for story time. (This is not his first rodeo either.)

I read to him a little and then went back to the House of Horrors which contained my beautiful little demon. I gingerly opened the door as not to startle her. She was laying in her bed whimpering. I asked her if she was ready to apologize. She said yes. She said "I'm sorry I yelled, but Hudson did this." "Nope, try again, Little Lady. No blaming anyone but yourself."

She says, "Well, sometimes Sam [her cousin] is mean to me."
Me: "That is not the issue. You were mean to us, and it doesn't matter why. You just have to apologize."
Paige: "But Hudson did this."
Me: "You need to apologize."
Paige: "Ok, I'm sorry I wasn't nice."
Me: "Hudson and I are reading in the living room. Please feel free to join us when you are ready."

(There was a little more of the back and forth about the apology, it didn't come swiftly or easily but it seems redundant for the purposes of this story.)

A few minutes later, she came out of her room and cuddled in my lap. The rest of the night proceeded without incident. She even warned me not to go into the "soggy woods" (foggy woods) lest I get bitten by the monster that lives there.

When I put her to bed, she said "Mommy, you are the bestest, bestest, bestest Mommy ever. I love you." I wonder if (almost) four year olds can be bipolar....