So, the incessant “No, no, no,” has been kicked-up a notch, which equates to around 800 decibels. Diva has an amazing range, though. I swear I could hear dogs whimpering a few times today. Her need for attention has injured us all over the last few weeks, with tonight ending in the need for an iceback on Boo’s lower back. My jeans prevented her teeth from biting my skin, though. But she has picked up speed on pushing & shoving me, which is annoying & a bit dangerous as she is increasingly violent. The shrieks, I feel, are a combination of a severe lack of vocabulary skills, a need for constant attention, & testing her boundaries.
After 15 minutes alone with her this evening, Hubs was in shock & awe. (Perhaps I should call her MOAB, instead of Diva??) “She is out of control; what is wrong with her tonight?”
“She has been like this ALL DAY,” I said. I know her molars are causing MAJOR discomfort. We are looking at building a home, which is adding stress. And I’ve got my own box of personal demons. Plus, she’ll be 2 in a matter of weeks. But she is like a furious storm the last 4 days & increasing her intensity. Violent, combustible, volatile, devastating, & unpredictable. Chaos, mayhem, destruction, & anarchy in her wake. Like a tornado, earthquake, volcano, & tsunami rolled into one experience. Terrorizing & holding us hostage.
And I just want to curl up in the fetal position. But 2 kids are relying on me to not only get them through this, both on very different ends of these outrageous fits of madness – giving versus receiving – but also need help, acceptance, & guidance through this turbulence.
That is just damn hard for any parent, but especially for us “special needs” parents. But I’m trying. Dammit, I am trying my absolute best! And dammit, it’s hard. The only relief is when I am physically restraining her & distracting her with kisses, raspberries, &/or tickle fights. Otherwise, we are just walking on eggshells to avoid an eruption.
Diva more closely resembles the Warner Brothers’ Tazmanian Devil character every day. Something’s gotta give. I am hoping summer & swimming will be helpful, along with working on her vocabulary, however much she hates it. I may have to take away any non-plush toys until that vocab comes in before someone looses a spleen, tho.
Peace, bitches. Oh, I actually punched myself tonight. Yuk it up. I was jacking with the couch cushion & fluffing the back pillow, & jerked it too hard. My grip slid off the leather . . . And I caught a fist to my mouth & nose. Gave myself a fat lip. Yeah. It’s been a fucking stellar day.