My daughter is giving me fits!

Look at that little face in that picture, happily drawing a pretty little work of art, little peach-colored bows in her hair, smiling away.

Ain't she cute, y'all? So so sweet, right?

Do you want her?

Because seriously.
The 'tude? (Already!) The sass? The defiance? The screaming? The INSUBORDINATION! (That was one of my favorite words from the Code of Student Conduct in school.)

Last night, I told her several times to stop pushing herself away from the dinner table, because she was making a mess with all her food. Finally, I pushed her in (again) and said sternly, "Clair, do not push this chair out from the table again. Do you understand?"

She turned her head away from me -- and sloooooowly pushed her chair out, just a hair, and said, "I can do whatever I want."

I. can. do. whatever. I. want.

Folks, I didn't even know what to do, or say. How does one respond to that coming from a 2-year-old with a runny nose and crazy hair?

I do not know what to do with her, y'all. 

I bought her four pairs of sandals for the spring/summer. She flat out refuses to wear any of them. Screams bloody murder and cries huge crocodile tears, chest heaving, face contorted, "WHY DO YOU ABUSE ME SO MOMMY?! I JUST WANT TO WEAR MY NEEKERS!"

Do you know how many adorable little dresses will not get worn because they won't look right with her big clunky sneakers? Do you know how much time it took me to find just the right pairs of cute little-girl sandals? Do you know how much money it costs to buy four pairs of just the right little girl sandals? Do you know this is my personal horror?! A little girl in the summer without cute little sandals and adorable dresses? Why does Clair HATE ME?

You should have seen how terrible she was to Matty this weekend. She was so mad that he was there, touching her toys, breathing her air. She absolutely WOULD NOT share. Like, not even a little bit. And no amount of bribing, cajoling, praising, or time-outing worked. Her will is iron strong, folks. She's like a war-torn spy or something. She does. not. break.

She's started this refusing-to-go-to-sleep thing at naptime and at bedtime. And as is now par for the course with her, she brings on the drama, crying hysterically, "I DON'T WANNA GODABED!" And Lester melts, holding her in his arms while she fake cries into his shoulder and he rubs her back and looks at me like, "Why are you forcing her to go to sleep at night, Mommy Dearest?"

Last night, after I made her cry it out at 8:15 because she didn't want to go to bed, she was awake again at 11 p.m., crying because she has a horrible case of the sniffles and can't breathe. I wiped her nose, comforted her, sung her a little song, and tried to get her back to sleep, but to no avail. Lester -- ever the sucker for her tiny, tear-stained face -- eventually just brought her into our bed, and there she stayed -- kicking and pulling at the covers and poking me and whispering and kicking some more -- until I finally carried her conked out body back into her crib at FOUR A.M.

Lester's alarm went off at 5 a.m. Cary came into my room at 6:05, whining that his mouth hurts.(Is this the age when kids get molars or something? He seems to have a toothache, which confounds me because I really thought we were past this teething business.) I dragged myself out of bed at 6:15 - missed my morning walk, thank you CLAIR! -- and figured I'd at least have a somewhat quiet morning without Princess Cray-Cray because she would likely sleep the morning away after the night she had.

So when Clair was up at 7:15, I nearly lost it. REALLY? You were up all night! How are you awake already, whining about being hungry and needing water and "Can I watch TV?"

Y'all -- I do not know what to do with her. I always said I wanted my children to have strong personalities, but COME ON.

When I was pregnant with her, all I prayed for was sweet, compliant and healthy. All I got was healthy.

God has a sense of humor, I know. But I am too exhausted to laugh.

My hilarious hellraiser

I have never been parent to a little girl before, and I don't know all the little girl children who have ever lived, so I know this is a totally unscientific statement. But, hear me when I say: Clair is the craziest, funniest, most maddening human child to ever walk the Earth.

She will be 2 in a couple weeks and she has already hit the terrible 2s most terribly.

She doesn't just defy, she laughs maniacally when defying. She doesn't just refuse to unhand the thing you're telling her she can't have, she hurls it across the room like a shot putter. She doesn't ask for anything, she SCREAMS for what she wants -- ear-piercing, relentless, nerve-grating screams.
She hits. She spits. She throws her food off her plate when she's done eating. She shouts, "GOOD!BYE!" and storms out of rooms. She terrorizes her brothers and confounds her parents.

She is, quite simply, a piece. of. work.

And then...just when you have decided to pack her up and ship her to Siberia...just then she:

Befriends a little girl at her Saturday tumbling class:

Loves all up on the patient, sweet "kitty" (AKA miniature Schnauzer) at a SuperBowl party:

Climbs up at a keyboard and says, "I sing Farm, Mommy. McDonald Farm," and plunks away:

Takes pity on her poor father (this was in an email to me):

I just asked her for a kiss and she said no.

I pretended to cry and she said "Ho On, daddy. I readin. Finish. Then kiss. OK?"

I said, "OK. But how long do I have to hold on?"

"I READIN! Wait I finish. OK?"

"OK."

Then she closed the book, leaned in and gave me a kiss. Ha. She's too funny.

 

And sees God in everything around her (also in an email from Lester):

 

Showing me the football helmet stamped on her left hand:

Me: Who gave you a helmet?

Clair with a mouthful of cereal: GeeZus

Me: Jesus?

Clair: Yas.

Me: Jesus put that helmet on your hand?

Clair: Yas. GeeZus gave me Hal-mut.

Me: Well OK.

 

(Note: She got the football helmet after her tumbling class. A cheerful 20-something named Amberlee gave it to her.) 

Hahahaha! Too funny.

 

Clair never fails to lean in and hug a crying Dean, or say, "God bless you, Cary" when he sneezes. She asks, "What matter you, Mommy? You OK?" when you cough and she always shares her last bit of chauk-wit (chocolate) with anyone who asks.

She cracks us up; she makes us want to cry. She is a hilarious, heart-warming hellraiser.

I couldn't be more delighted with her -- or more afraid of the pre-teen and teenaged years.

Pray for us. :-)