Three and a half!
I have been told that today she will become wonderful again. My friends who have survived being the mothers of three-year-olds have assured me that at three and a half pixie dust falls from the sky and the hellion that I have been spending my days with returns to the sweet angel that used to smother me snuggles and kisses.
Kisses and snuggles are the opposite of what I am smothered with these days - glowers and huffs and pouty faces.
I am told No three thousand times a day. I am told I am mean. And old and "not very nice". I have been kicked and scratched and have had to subdued a temper tantrum daily.
Once in a while I get an extra tight hug. Daily I am told "I love you Mommy" - but that's usually after a stomping fit.
Last night I was told that dinner was yucky and that I am "not a good cook".
This morning I was I was repeatedly told that I am "not being nice" and need to stop being "so mean". She was unhappy about the bows I picked out for her hair. She was unhappy that I asked her to put on her shoes. She was unhappy that I didn't allow her to grab her English Muffin out of the very hot toaster. She was angry that I made her brush her teeth and that I wouldn't let her have a Twinkie for breakfast.
We were late getting out to our preschool car pool because she was too busy petting the cat instead of putting on her shoes.
And then I slammed her finger in the car door.
Awesome. I am a mean old Mom.
So ten hours into three and half things aren't looking so good - but I have to be hopeful, right?
As for the 34?
Today is my fabulous husband's 34th birthday. He does not stomp his feet or pout or glower or huff at me (99 percent of the time). He has never called me mean or old (because, let's be honest, he's significantly older than me) or told me that my dinner is yucky. He has not scratched me in the face and he still likes to hug and kiss me.
He occasionally forgets to act his age and is often quite silly, but he is always kind. He is always loving and he is always supportive. He puts up with my ramblings and my frustration and my ridiculousness.
My 34 year old husband is an amazing father to my three and half year old daughter. He is firm and gentle and consistent. He attacks her with tickles and kisses her boo-boos and reminds her to use her fork. He is patient and insightful. He fills our home with warmth and laughter and good cooking.
Most importantly? That 34 year-old husband of mine reminds me that "this too shall pass" when dealing with my moody three-and-a-half-year-old.
Happy Birthday to you, husband. I don't know what I would do with out you.
And Happy Half Birthday to you, daughter. I can't wait for that pixie dust to fall from the sky.