I have been saying for months that we were entering the terrible twos. I suppose that is what happens when you have a willful child.
But Oh.My.G-d. I had no idea.
The past couple weeks we have learned what two is really all about and wow. Just wow. Sam is still her incredibly intelligent, precocious self. People often ask us if she is even older than her age, because of her height/long hair, but also because of her speech. No, indeed, I say. This kid is 2. And here is why: she is so manipulative. She puts her foot on the table, I put it down. She puts it back up. I say, "no feet on the table." She grins and puts her foot back up. Her father steps in: "no feet on the table," he says. She screams, thrashes and demands to "put my feet on the table. Put my feet on the table!" And that is just one example.
Everything, yes everything is a fight. She wants to do everything by herself and simple tasks, like putting on her shoes take 20 minutes. My patience is tried, but her father's is fried. Given all the other changes in our lives, the timing of her personality shift is not easy.
Of course there are many good things. She is sounding out words now and her reading has gone from what I assume was on-site memorization to actual sounding out of words. She has learned to jump this month and spends a lot of time tossing herself into the air. She remains a complete and total daredevil, which remains my favorite--and more feared--part of her personality.
R and I both were into skydiving. Anyone who knows me would describe me as an adrenaline junkie. I also have a ridiculously high pain threshold. Do I run 8 miles on a broken foot? Yep. Both of my labors were 100% natural and there is almost nothing that stops me from working out. Her dad is the same. Between us, we have created a child that generally has no fear. And the result? Danger around every corner. She thinks she can jump into the pool by herself. She thinks she can slide head first down the biggest slide and flip on the rings at the playground. She will jump off the couch without warning and laughs when the dog gives his warning nips. In short, I fear she knows no fear. This could be a problem. Her independent streak, which is so like me, also means she gets into trouble. The other day at the Children's Museum, she actually had to be examined by a paramedic after we thought she broke her leg doing g-d knows what while I was paying attention to my friend and to her brother.
These qualities will serve her well in her life, I am sure of it. After all, strong, independent, intelligent women who look like Jolie-Pitts tend to do ok for themselves. But now? Oh man. The kid is killing me. I am only 31. Most moms around here are older than me. How the hell do they do it? She exhausts me every single day.
She asks all the time to pee-pee in the potty now. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't. And while we have had a frustrating two-month constipation stint, she is ready for potty training. In fact, right now, it is R and I who are discouraging it. We want to get the other stuff ironed out before we really go all out on the potty training. She wants it because the older kids at her pre-school do it, I think. We are in no hurry.
It has been a rough month in many ways, perhaps one of the roughest of her short life and definitely one of the roughest in mine. She is a dynamo, but also is a handful. It takes two of us to wrangle her everyday and I can't imagine how it will be as she grows. G-d help us.