I really won't be winning Mom of the Year in 2010.
Last week, I walked a couple of steps out the door in order to clean out our vacuum filter. Abby, who like many toddlers loves routine, shut the door behind me and locked it. Not just the knob lock, the deadbolt. She has obviously picked up on our family's incessant door-locking. I stared through the window at Evangeline lying on the floor, and hollered, "ABBY! OPEN THE DOOR!" Her response was, of course, "Why?"
"Because if you don't, I'm going to spank your bottom!" (Yes, I know that wouldn't work. I was a little frantic.)
She did eventually get the deadbolt unlocked, with help from a stool and despite her mother's raucous wrath and muttered imprecations. I was still really mad when I finally got in, and she got a lecture (but not a spanking). It's hard to explain to a two and a half year old child why she shouldn't lock the door when Mommy leaves.
Later that day, I was emptying our paper shredder, which Abby loves to help with. I got all the shreds into a plastic bag, and as she grabbed it, told Abby to "go put it by the front door." She took off down the hallway to our bedroom instead. Frustrated, I yelled that she had three seconds to put the bag by the front door, or (there's a theme here) I would swat her bottom.
"One! . . . Two! . . ."
Abby cheerfully yelled back, "Three!"
Obviously, that method is not effective. I stomped down the hall and administered the swat. She cried. I started to explain why I was angry, when a little voice in the back of my head pondered, "Does she know where the front door is?" Guess what? She didn't. We played a fun game of Run to the Door (Where's Abby's door? Where's the closet door?), and now she knows.
This is the main reason I'm not winning. If I've talked to you lately, I've probably moaned and groaned about how Evangeline doesn't sleep through the night and is generally a grouch. Every night, she would wake up at least once and scream for at least an hour before going back to sleep. This did not make for a happy Mommy. Talking to a friend a few days ago, she mentioned that her son gets cold in their 68 degree apartment at night, so she puts socks and a onesie on under his pajamas. Our apartment is kept colder than that. I decided to dress Evie warmer that evening. When Regis got home, however, I learned another important lesson. Evangeline screamed and screamed and would not be comforted, so Regis decided to try and feed her. She ate about twice what we normally feed her at night before she finally stopped yelling. That night, she slept like an angel. The next day, I consciously tried to feed her more than I usually do, and guess what? She was an angel baby ALL DAY. So no, it wasn't just that she was teething, although she does now have two sharp ones. Evangeline was grouchy and sleepless because she was tired of living on a mere subsistence diet. Guess how that makes me feel? In a word: STUPID.
Don't go outside without your keys. Make sure she knows what you're talking about before you punish her. And maybe try feeding the baby once in a while.
Motherhood is meant to make me humble, I guess.
