Something's just not clicking

Today was one of THOSE days.

For those of you out there with toddlers, I'm sure you can share in the following pain:

You wake up with your kid and from early on in the day it's clear that you are NOT going to get along. Maybe you can't convince her to eat anything for breakfast because all she demands (and will eat lately) are chicken nuggets, and even though you give her the MorningStar brand so they're relatively healthy, it's getting close to 10:30 in the morning and you just gave her nuggets for breakfast yesterday and you just feel like today should be a GOOD nutrition day.

And after you practically hog-tie her to the table and force down only two bites of oatmeal, maybe she disappears in to her room for a few minutes--a sure sign that she's pooping. And then when you go to retrieve her and her crappy diaper before it's time to fumigate, she pitches an all-out fit because you wouldn't let her walk on her own, despite the fact that you know she WON'T walk on her own to have her diaper changed, and she proceeds to kick and writhe while you are mopping shit off her bottom, then the couch, then your hand...maybe then you've just had it and you plop her in the time-out chair to "sit and think" while you break out the Clorox wipes.

Then, during the post-time-out review, after you've made her say she's sorry and firmly reinforced that kicking Mommy is NOT okay, you tell her it's time to brush her teeth. This, of course, sets off a new round of wailing and she refuses to stand on top of the toilet seat so you can get her toothbrush ready, so it's back to the time-out chair. This time it's time-out without the binky, which brings on a wave of fluid from every orifice on her bright red and screaming face. Maybe you need a break from the screaming so you go sweep the stairs and count to 10. Or 100.

After this particular time-out, after all the facial mopping and second round of apologies, she grudgingly lets you brush her teeth but refuses to get dressed. You give up on arguing.

And then maybe she goes and shuts herself in her room again. You are grateful, although in the back of your head is the nagging feeling that she shouldn't be holeing herself up in her room so often until she is at least 12. You take the opportunity to finish sweeping and vacuuming up all the dust bunnies on the area rug, produced when the underside of the couch vomited up a small ton of dust-covered toys while you were searching for your child's beloved fake-food-apple earlier in the morning.

But then you start to wonder what she's doing in there, so you politely knock on her door and walk in to find her quietly reading stories on her bed, and when she sees you she yells "No! Mommy! Go!".

(You are two parts giddy that she is entertaining herself as this allows you plenty of time to check your email, and one part a little bit hurt.)

Maybe after you get the downstairs vacuumed and the bathroom cleaned and a load of laundry going, all of which you can of course accomplish in 20 minutes, your cranky child wanders out to the livingroom to see what you're up to. Perhaps she asks if she can watch the choo-choo show and you tell her no, because she's already watched it today and now you're going to listen to Christmas music. You are certain this will lead to a tantrum and she does not disappoint. You stop to consider just how socially unacceptable it would be to have a beer before noon. You decide, instead, to stick your tongue out at your child and leave the room to go downstairs and shower.

Your child, of course, follows you downstairs in her relentless pursuit of making your day miserable, and in the interest of enjoying your shower, you waver on the no-TV rule and let her watch Elmo. Instead of gratitude, maybe she gets upset (yes. again.) because you didn't let her push the start button herself. You probably start the whole DVD over again so she push the f*@#ing play button ALL ON HER OWN despite the fact that you are naked and freezing and the warm shower is running and practically calling your name.

Once you are finally showered and dressed and it is very close to 12:00 although it probably feels like it should be bedtime, you head back upstairs with your child who remains undressed, save for a diaper. She reports that her feet are cold and you gently suggest some clothing might help solve that problem. She will probably tell you no and you will probably say something immature like "fine, be cold then" and then the one bright spot in your morning will occur--your friend Kendra will show up with a pizza and her child who is already napping and even remains asleep as she transfers him to the extra bedroom. You might sit with your friend and your child and eat lunch. Maybe your child eats two tomato slices and pronounces herself "done" and, as you see her Excellent Nutrition Day slowly washing down the drain, you tell her to go ahead and get down from the table.

The second bright spot in your day will probably be after your friend leaves for work, her child remains asleep, and you put your own Bundle of Unpleasantness down for a nap. For two lovely hours you fold laundry, balance the checkbook, clean another bathroom, and work on Christmas presents--all in fantastic, much-needed silence.

But then both children are awake and your child, of course, refuses to share her shopping cart or her apple or her fishy crackers or her orange slices or anything, really. She might fall to pieces when her friend bumps in to her accidentally while they are jumping on the couch like maniacs, because she is just having one of THOSE days. You probably spend the remainder of the afternoon protecting your friend's child from your own, until your friend returns from work and, like an angel, offers to take both kids back to her house while you clean up and meet them later at her place for dinner. Your kid probably runs joyfully for her car, upset not that she is leaving her Mommy, but that Mommy can't buckle the car seat in fast enough for her to leave. You probably don't blame her, and you probably aren't all that sad to see her go.

Your day probably improves somewhat at that point, although you are sad because you realize that, at the moment, you don't like your kid very much and she doesn't really like you, either. You try hard to write it off as Just One of Those Days, and not What Life Is Like With a Two-Year-Old Every Single Day.

*Sigh*