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Elodie eating chocolate. May 2012.

There are certain parts of parenting that people generally do not speak of.  Like the bad parts.  With the exception of the teenage years. 

Kniskern, a bachelor friend of ours has been staying with us on and off recently.  Sometimes, when people stay with us on a regular basis, which is not an unusual thing at Cabin Gio, they start to become a little less like guests and a little more like a fixture on the wall.  Which also would explain why reality television is so popular. 

He had the pleasure of witnessing our "post daycare on a Monday" episode.  As always, it went like this:

I pull in the driveway.  Ellie is already home with JG and Kniskern.  She presses her face against the window/door and runs away smiling as I open it.  Then she starts screeching "like a Pterodactyl" as Kniskern refers to it.  And then it escalates into real tears and screaming.  She grabs her baby doll off of the  shelf and throws it angrily with all of her strength onto the floor. 

Kniskern is watching stunned because she was completely fine before I walked in the door, as JG is trying to explain to him that this happens EVERY SINGLE NIGHT on days that she goes to daycare and I go to work.  I continue trying to get her dinner ready as she is flailing and crying in my arms, yelling "no" repeatedly.  This continues after she is put in her high chair as JG messes with her jokingly, she escalates, and we end up yelling at each other ten different times about how the other one is making the situation worse and who is right versus wrong.  She continues to scream, tries to throw her food/drink on the floor repeatedly, and we turn on the Disney Channel because it is a much needed distraction. All while Kniskern sits in the rocking chair, drinking his mixed drink and throwing in a few comments trying to soothe Ellie while making light of the kitchen.  Did I mention that you can get reality t.v. without cable at our house?

The boys then leave to help a friend move a piano, I give Ell a bath because baths are the child friendly version of Xanax in my opinion, put her p.j.'s on her and turn to my best retail friend, Target, for help.

Target was not horrible but could have been better. Ell wanted to throw everything in the cart out of the cart and refused to allow a big outdoor ball that I was buying FOR HER in the cart.  So I pushed her around with one arm because I had to hold the gigantic ball with the other. 

There is a happy ending.  When we arrived home, JG put her to bed and she stayed in bed.  But then I went to make my mocha frappacino (aka mom crack) and someone had used all of the ice.  I could seriously feel myself start to unravel.  But then Kniskern ran to the store and brought back more. He states this is because I yelled at him, which I pointed out that I did not, and he accurately pointed out that I yelled at him with my eyes.  A little embarrassing that I was so pissed about ice, yes. Completely awesome that he read and responded to my non-verbals like he was in a race, yes. 

My point is that real life, including parenting little ones, can be ugly.  I am far from perfect, as is my life, my marriage, my parenting, my patience, and obviously my hostess skills.  I am sharing it because it is real and although the logical side of me knows that nothing is ever the way we picture it to be, the perfectionist side of me feels defeated when it isn't.  To be honest, I want to put my head through a wall some days.  Simply because it might be quieter on the other side. And on that note my child is awake and crying.  New mantra: Tuesday will be better.