Verona and I have had a rough week.
Girlfriend is two… and she is very, very two,. And this week has been a clusterfuck of all the awful stereotypes about two year olds. Most of the days I have spent almost 100% of my time either dealing with chaos or attempting some serious deep breathing and have gotten absolutely nothing else done. But I’ve handled it all fairly well. There has been the most minimal amount of yelling, soooo much deep breathing, and a level of patience that made me wonder where regular Jenna went.
One of the things that happened at the beginning of the week was after explaining that we could use the glitter in a few minutes as soon as I put the baby down for a nap, she climbed up the craft shelf, got all the glitter we had in the house, and emptied it all on the back porch. So the whole rest of the week every time she wanted to do a glitter craft (which was all the time) I got to explain that we have no more glitter because you were being totally crazy sauce the other day and wasted it all, and she would start crying and be downright heartbroken that she couldn’t do a glitter craft… her absolute favorite thing in the world. Natural consequences and all that.
But last night I decided she’d suffered enough, and in an attempt to mend the bridges and start the weekend on a good note we made a special trip to the craft store together, a fun mom and daughter only trip, and she got to pick out a giant container of glitter in whatever color she wanted. A giant, very expensive container that should have lasted us a very very long time.
This morning she asked if she could do a craft with the new glitter and I said yes, that was a marvelous plan! Give me just a moment to get our stuff together for it and we’d go outside and do it together.
But in the five minutes it took me to do that she climbed like a monkey, got her hands on the glitter, and I came outside to find this.
The entire container. The entire giant container. And one very unhappy boy with glitter in every crack and crevice in his body. And one very unhappy mother over the fact that glitter is the herpes of the craft supply world and what gets tracked into the house will never, EVER leave.
I gritted my teeth and said in the least nasty voice I could muster “BED. NOW. GO. NAP. GO.” After I took care of the saddest/sparkliest baby in the world and cleaned everything up I went in to the bedroom where she was still crying a little and said “We can’t talk right now. I’m still too angry. I just wanted to come cuddle with you because I still love you so much even when I’m angry.”
Which brings me to this moment, writing a story that I’m 97% sure we’ll all laugh about later.
Now who wants to bring me a margarita?