Yet another blogging mummy

  I've said it before and I'll say it again. Our children are our best teachers.  Yesterday, in the midst of continuous meltdowns, back to back battles and torrid tantrums, and immediately following a particularly nasty spitting sound that expectorated (good word eh? my mum was an English teacher) from my toddler as she resisted YET ANOTHER thing, I made the decision to shout. I very rarely do, but I thought that she needed to snap out of this powerful little vortex of chaos that she was causing, and I essentially said to myself "fuck gentle parenting" and I shouted "YOU DO NOT SPIT AT ME!" which cued (as I knew it would) a torrent of tears, to which I instantly responded by enfolding her in the biggest softest longest cuddle I could muster, while murmuring loving things into her hair. I know, I'm a sucker for tears. They undo me.  While I was murmuring, between her gasps and sobs, she kept wailing "Be HAPPY mummy!" I thought about it. This wa...

Terrible Twos.   Whoever invented that idiom did it with malicious and insidious intent. That phrase was created to make new parents think that the twos are the worst it gets. When new parents are reduced, every night, to a puddle of exhaustion and stress after dealing with their two and a half year old child all day long, these two words give them a sense that things will get better. "Ah yes but this is the terrible twos. Things can't possibly get any worse."  Oh.  My.  God. Things get so, so, so much worse.  I have a psychologist friend who once compared having a 3 year old child to being on the front lines of a war. She said being on the front lines was, according to a study, less stressful. Where the f*%$ can I sign up.  I don't even know where to start, my head is pounding, my spine is aching, and I feel symptoms of depression coming on. Here's what happened this morning.  2:30 am - Pickle comes into our room and lies down on her little mat we've ...