Why The Hell Is My Toddler Crying Now? Friday

by Cookie

I know its Friday, but things have been a little heated around here lately.

So instead of the usual Hot on the Titties rant, I’m going to do a special called “Why The Hell Is My Toddler Crying Now? Friday”.

Because I like to mix it up.  But also because I want someone, anyone, to rationalize the irrationality of my almost three year old.

I think she might be a little into the sauce sometimes.  Crazysauce that is.  And maybe even a little bit of bananapants too.  Crazy sauce bananapants.  Never a good thing.

Honest to God, the mood swings of a toddler make PMS and pregnancy look like nothing, bitches.  Nothing.  One second everything is fine and the next thing you know, she’s crying and carrying on so hard that language is no longer decipherable, there’s red blotches all over her face, she’s off balance and tripping and freaking out because now somethings HURTS her and seriously.


Last night it all started because the bathtub water did not have sparkles in it.  Now before you all go calling Child and Family Services on me, we did in fact have a sparkle bath the day before.  But I accidentally gave it to Daddy.  So Daddy (totally by accident, I swear) had the gay man’s bath with sparkles and came out looking like Edward Cullen.  It was magnificent.  But the problem is that the Destroyer saw the sparkle tub and now wanted one of her very own.

Well.  We didn’t have another sparkle bomb.  And we had already prepared the bath with the duck bubble bath she fucking asked for. Which apparently made me a terrible person.

The screaming continued.  Reasoning didn’t work.  Threats didn’t work. And then finally.  She said the only thing that would make her happy was if I got her snake costume out.

Well okay then.  Snake costumes for everyfuckingbody then.  Just please stop screaming in my ear.

Except just kidding.  That was wrong too.

And so the evening of Thursday went.   Everything was wrong. I was wrong.  The bedside light was in the wrong place.  The pull-up was the wrong one. ( don’t even ask me about potty training.  I might kill you).  The pajamas were wrong. I was wrong.  Life was wrong.

Dear sweet Jesus, when did I become such a failure?  Why does she cry for no reason?

I can only conclude that the child was over tired and slightly out of her little mind and badly needing to go to bed.

Because it took about 3 nanoseconds for her to fall asleep.  Thank goodness for the ultimate trump card:

The threat of having to sleep by herself in her dark, scary, monster infused bedroom.  That makes bedtime a breeze.

In other news, I’ll probably be co-sleeping with my child until she 25.

Happy Friday, bitches.