Oh, parenthood

Today, for the first time, I walked out of a store while carrying a kicking, screaming toddler, in all of her tantrum-y glory.

As I struggled to hold onto two bags, a frappuccino, and a squirming baby, I realized that it was every awful thing I’ve ever thought about what it would be like.  The final thing that really set her off?  Being removed from the cosmetic section, where she wanted to tear down every mascara bottle, blush package, and eye shadow palette that she could reach.  Which is considerable, at the 97^th percentile for baby height.

She fought me when putting her back into her car seat.  She arched her back, refusing to let her body go into any position resembling a sit. 

Then she immediately fell asleep once I started driving. I pulled into the driveway at my house and just sat there with my head against the steering wheel. 

At the beginning of the shopping trip I still had my public parenting dignity.  When a man in line for coffee with me watched Gloria spit her pacifier onto the Starbuck’s floor, I put in my pocket and loudly proclaimed, “LOOK WHAT YOU DID.  NOW YOU DON’T GET IT, IT’S YUCKY.”  (Of course I gave it back to her when he was out of sight.)

Two hours later I pulled my cart of groceries to the checkout in Wegman’s, sweaty and disheveled.   She had spent the entire time fussing when she couldn’t reach the shredded cheese package in the cart behind her.  She had repeatedly chucked the frozen corn out of the cart.  She absolutely refused to wear her left shoe. 

By the end of our excursion I was chain-feeding her the whipped topping off of my Caramel Brulee Frappuccino.  I would have let her sip the coffee itself if that’s what it would have taken to shut her up.

Caught in the act.  This is why Kevin is getting chubby ...

This is what my house looks like all of the time now.  I try to follow behind her and clean, but she's called "The Destroyer" for a reason.

Trying to drink the bath water.

We bought her tub markers, but she only knows how to write on herself.