This week my daughter could have tried the patience of a saint. And I'm not a saint. When you have a baby, you can't wait for all those mile stones. They start cooing and chattering, and soon they can say Mama. How exciting and wonderful. Well, I am still happy she can call me by name, but ten times in ten seconds is not quite what I want. Besides being demanding, requesting things rudely, followed by her yelling, "Now" with her arms crossed and a pout, there has been the crying, screaming, and outright tantrums. Yesterday she did this a minimum of four times. One lasted a solid half hour because I refused to turn the t.v. on or let her play on the computer until she ate some of dinner. I refused to cave on that one. Eventually she sat at the table, and then happily ate some pasta. Once she ate a modicum of it, she then got to play on the computer, tooling around at pbskids.org.
I'm going to guess at the spark of behavior. While its not new, the significant increase in frequency and duration this week is probably in part due to my husband not being around much. In fact, we didn't have dinner once with him this week. She saw very little of him, and yesterday he had to leave for a last minute overnight business trip. Lets just say, I cannot wait for his return.
While we are busy tomorrow, I have now penciled in plans for us on Sunday morning. Oh, wait, those are my plans to run away. No, the circus isn't in town, but if I don't get a few hours to myself I may just have to find one.
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