Terrible Two's My Ass!

Whoever said "terrible twos" must have never had a child.  With both of my children, two was my favorite.  I mean, they were still talking with lisps, still very soft, cuddly, and cute. Sure, they said no and had a few minor meltdowns, but in the scheme of things, were still of the opinion that Mommy and Daddy make the rules and I am supposed to follow them.  I swear, when each of them turned 3, it was like an internal lightswitch was automatically flipped from off to on.  I have no idea how this happened; all that I know is that my children went from being loving, sweet-hearted, even-tempered little humans into whiny, meltdown every 15 minutes, "NO WAY!", crazy, hitting, angry little monsters. 

Has this happened in your house? 

What the hell happened?  This kid is 3.  Just so that you know.  He is challenging his mother, and winning!

I know it's not natural to actually beat your children, but I'm telling you, I've Ally McBealed some serious ass whoopings in my head.  I firmly believe that all mothers have this happen to them.  I think we're fine as long as we don't actually go through with the images. 

My little angels know just how to push Mommy's buttons.  And this tattle-taleing shit has got to stop as well.  "Mommy, Sissy won't let me play with her lion."  "Mommy, Bubba just got into the Play-Doh."  "Mommy, Bubba just bit me"  That one was my favorite.  Because they were playing "The Fox and the Hound"  and he was pretending to be a dog who bites.  I tell my kids that if someone is bleeding or otherwise seriously injured, come let me know.  Other than that, I expect you to be able to work things out between yourselves. 

Damn.  I love my kids.  They are the most wonderful, amazing, beautiful, funny, creative, genius things in my life.  They are all the most terrible, life-damaging, insanity challenging, time crunching, hair-pulling, vodka-drinking (oh wait, that's me), self-questioning, well, you get the point.  Unless you count their father.  That's a whole different blog.  :)