The Devil Wears Osh Kosh

My daughter is in no way the devil...I know that...she is full of kisses and endless hugs and cuddles, but she has a diva streak in her. She's one of those kids that you've probably seen at the mall, stomping with arms crossed, bottom lip flying out, when her mother doesn't buy her what she want's RIGHT NOW! Or the kid at the grocery store lying on the floor screaming "NO!" over and over at the top of her lungs, just being an absolute poopie-head!
This baby girl has made me realize that I have no place judging other parents EVER! I try to teach my kids discipline lovingly, and they get a good spoonful of it. My son... easy to discipline, pushes the line a bit, but will quickly follow in time and get who's the boss. Disciplining my daughter is like negotiating with IRAN. You try to push, she pushes back HARDER. She demands, you refuse, she demands, you refuse, she demands, you refuse, she demands, you warn, she strikes with physical assault, you send her to time out, she cusses you out in trucker-like baby babble, you close door, she makes like North Korea and agrees to false promises to be released, and the cycle begins AGAIN! Ya see why I haven't blogged in 10 days? By the way, she's not even 2 yet....LORDY, LORDY LORD!

So, as quick as she is, she has begun to potty train herself....in some ways this can be a good thing, in some ways, it's just another way to torture my tired old mind. So this is the way it usually goes: Baby Girl pats her butt and says "Poo-poo, Mama, Poo-poo!" Off we run to the potty to begin what I like to call "The Musical Crapper Game!" I put her on the toilet with a kiddie seat in place to keep her from swimming off yonder. (She's done that several times!) She's sitting there and in my mind I hear Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass playing Tijuana Taxi.(Provided for you in the music bar on the side....maestro...) She gets on and off and on and off and on and off and pretends to "Fa' dooooowwww"!" (fall down) 10,000 times, asks me to sing about 50 preschool songs and then says she's done, then "NO! No done!", then she's says she's done, then not, then done, then not. So, I begin the "if you can't decide, I'll decide for you" power struggle and say she has until I count to 3 to get her pull-up on...."One" (she cuts in) "Teeeeeyoooo, Teeeeeeeee! Fa' dooooww!" "No, babe, WE ARE DONE!" "Mama, poo-poo!" "Pants on, girlfriend!" "NO! POOPOO!" "Then please sit and poop!" She sits still, FINALLY....pees, and then we begin the "Get your pull-up on Polka"! By now, I need to use the toilet myself, so it's a race to gets her drawers up and my drawers down! Tired yet?! Wait, there's more! WE HAVE TO WASH HANDS!!!!!! AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!