I have already confessed once, but I am not a baby person. I think they’re cute, love to hold them for about an hour, and then I have had my fill. The baby stage is my least favorite stage so far. (I should however preface this by admitting my oldest is only four, and have yet to experience the joys of puberty….that may trump the baby stage. Also, I have loved and enjoyed my kids at every stage, before some of you get the idea that I dislike my children until they start walking and talking…I just prefer them when they are older) I really love when my kids start to do things on their own. When they FINALLY become potty trained, can tell you why they are screaming at previously unreached decibels, and can actually help pick up the messes they create.
With that said, there is a dark side to this independence. It caught me by surprise with the first child and now my second. I apparently blocked it all out from my memory until Urpling started up. First is once they have a taste of independence, they decide they don’t need your help. What’s the problem, you may ask? Well, they don’t want your help with ANYTHING! Putting on clothes, washing hands, getting into the car, turning on lights, or opening doors. All things that you don’t mind helping with because they go soooooooo much faster when you do it. Yesterday morning, Sasquatch came out dressed in a bright green skirt (on backwards) and a bright pink shirt with long zebra print sleeves (also on backwards with the cute cat and the hat decal on her back and the tag sticking up the front). Yesterday I also waited about 15 minutes watching Urpling slowly pull her pants up over her butt…backwards. When I was running late for my aerobics class, Urpling was insisting on opening the garage door. It had a child safety knob cover and weighs about 2 tons. She then proceeded to have a meltdown when she realized that she couldn’t do it and finally asked for help after about 3 minutes.
Which leads into my next point…If you accidentally help them, they go into nuclear meltdown. I turned off a light Urpling wanted to and she collapsed on the floor sobbing like I had crushed her soul. I opened a door she wanted to open and she started screaming and stomping her feet. It strikes when you least expect it, when you are doing something you’ve done thousands of times before without incident, but this time they decided they wanted to do it and you interfered. It does eventually get better, but I forgot how many fits Sasquatch had thrown at this age. I cling to the hope that she did get better, so there is hope for Urpling too. But you have been warned.