Dear Georgia,

Oh, girl – were you on one today.  You have days that you are just plain grumpy, and I guess today was one of them.  You woke up in a bad mood, and there was just no consoling you.  Here’s what you do when you are cranky:  you hit.  And you scream.  Not just a “get out of my way” scream, it’s an ear-drum shattering shriek that would probably make glass shatter if I let you go long enough.  It is more than I can handle sometimes.  So you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and the first issue of the day was getting you dressed.  You wanted a skirt, and I gave you jeans.  Then you wanted tights when I gave you socks.  Then you didn’t want me to do your hair (not an unfamiliar battle, you never want me to do your hair).  Then you wanted a drink of milk.  Now.  Then you didn’t want to wear your snow boots.  Then you wanted to zip up your own coat, which I hate to break it to you darlin’, but you don’t know how to do that yet.   Luckily at that point Grandpa pulled up in the driveway and took you to the babysitter, since you were absolutely not going to get in the car with me.  I was actually relieved to go to work!

After work, I drove to the babysitter to pick up you and Gibson and of course you were an ANGEL at her house.  She was so good!  She says the cutest things!  Bull.  You were screaming before we even had our seatbelts on.  Why are you so good for other people?  I swear that’s the question on every mother’s mind about their children.  Next stop – grandma’s house to pick up the dog.  Here’s a brief overview of what went down in the car…

No, you can’t come in.

No, you can’t eat the brownie from daycare.

Georgia!  I told you not to eat the brownie! 

Stop dropping the brownie on the floor or the dog is going to eat it. 

There – the dog ate it – are you happy now?  The dog is going to die! (I may have overreacted with this one.  I’m pretty sure you didn’t kill the dog.  If you ever end up in therapy, cross that issue off the list)

Stop hitting your brother. 

Stop touching your brother.

I know he touched you.

He did not say poo-poo pants.

No he didn’t, Georgia. 

You’re going straight to bed when we get home. 

Fine, you can eat.  Whatever.  But then straight to bed!

All of that and grandma only lives 2 blocks from our house!  We got home, put in a Wii game and you screamed for 15 minutes because Gibson had the control that you wanted. Gibson gave you that control, but you didn't want it because he touched it.  All the while, Gibson is just dancing in front of the TV and you found one thing after another to cry about.  At 7:30 exactly, after a wholesome meal of mac & cheese,  I tucked you into bed.  You were asleep by 7:45.

Now here I am, at the end of the day and the thing I’m grateful for most at this moment is the automatic reset button that I get to push every night at bedtime.  12 hours is just enough time to gather up the energy I’m going to need to wake up and deal with (hopefully not) all of the same shenanigans over again tomorrow.  Because there’s something about a sleeping child that makes your heart melt, and somehow you fall in love all over again every single day.  And that, Georgia, is something amazing.

I love you.  (But seriously, you need to chill!)

Love,

Mommy