02 April 2015

The Struggle Is Real

Sometimes a two-year-old is the cutest thing on the face of the earth and sometimes a two-year-old is nothing short of a demon possessed being straight out of a horror movie.

Currently I am dealing with the demon possessed version of a two-year-old.  Take for example today:

I take Harlow, Kate and Wyatt over to the library for Toddler Time.  Basically it is an hour of singing, dancing, stories, etc. all for the three and under crowd.  We get there 15 minutes early like the library lady instructed only to find we couldn't actually go into the (EMPTY) room until exactly 10:30 when the program started.  So for 15 minutes Harlow and Wyatt played with some toys and books while Kate hung out in the Tula baby carrier.

When the doors finally open to the Toddler Time room, Harlow decides she would rather stay with the books and toys she is currently playing with.  Thank you very much.  Go ahead without me, Mother.  Of course I do my best to try and get her in the room.  In the end most people were forced to step over my red faced screaming toddler who had laid her body down in the threshold between the Toddler Room and the rest of the library.

When I finally managed to get her in the room, I took off jackets and removed Kate from the Tula.  Wyatt, Kate and I all calmly sat down and were waiting for the first activity to begin.  Harlow had been quietly standing next to me.  Apparently she was using that one minute breather as a great refresher for round two of screaming at the top of her lungs.  No matter what I said or did nothing was going to make her calm down.  It was both embarrassing and frustrating.  The breaking point came when one of the mothers made the comment, "Well this is going to be fun."  She was right, it wasn't fair to everyone else to have to compete with screaming Harlow.

I decided to leave.

I scooped up Kate, the Tula and the jackets in one hand and grabbed a screaming Harlow and a confused Wyatt with the other.  I basically dragged them all out of the library.  Harlow made sure to scream at the top of her lungs the entire way.  I had tears coming down my face because in that moment it was taking everything in me not to either A. scream right back at her or B. make a Harlow shaped hole in a wall. We made it outside and part way across the parking lot before Harlow broke from my grasp and laid down.

Laid down in the middle of traffic.


There was a car coming in each direction.  Thankfully both cars stopped.  Knowing that the two cars were blocking anyone from whipping around into the parking lot and accidentally running my kid over, I decided to run up to the van and drop Kate, Wyatt and all my stuff off and then go back for Harlow.  (The van was roughly three parking spots away from where Harlow was holding up traffic.)

I drop the two little ones and all of my stuff off, run back, scoop up Harlow, make the thank you motion to the women driving the two cars and then race over to the van and throw Harlow in.  I pick Kate up off the floor board and move around to the other side of the van and buckle her into her car seat.  I then shut the door and start to walk around to the other side so I can buckle the other two kiddos up.  Mind you the entire time Harlow is screaming, crying and is about as red faced as I have ever seen  her.

Harlow decides in that moment she is going to press the button that shuts her van door.  I am sure it was a "take that Mama" move.  Unfortunately for me both the keys and cell phone were inside the van and when I use the key fob to open the side doors it doesn't actually unlock the van.

So now I am locked out of the van.  The kids are inside the van.  Harlow is screaming.  Wyatt is looking at me like, "Seriously?" and Kate has begun to cry because the van isn't in motion and she knows it.

No matter what I say or do Harlow won't calm down and press the button to unlock the car or open the door back up.  She is blocking Wyatt's path to help me, so he instead starts playing with the baby. I don't know what else to do other than continue to calmly tap on the window and try to encourage one of them to unlock the door.  I don't want to leave them and I don't see anything I can use to break a window.  

So when I see a woman walking by with her two kids, I calmly ask if she wouldn't mind calling the police because I have a two-year-old, a twenty-three-month-old and a five-month-old all locked in my car.  The look she gave me didn't make me think she was going to nominate me for mother of the year, that's for sure.

After a little bit a police officer on a bicycle showed up.  He tried talking Harlow or Wyatt into helping.  Harlow continued to scream, "NO!" and cry.  We thought we may have convinced Wyatt to help but then a fire truck and a cop car showed up.  So instead Wyatt climbed onto the back seat of the van and was happily pointing away yelling, "Jess!  Truck!  Jess!  Truck!"

I had made it very clear to all of the officers that if they needed to break a window to just go ahead and do it.  But they said it wasn't hot out (55 degrees), the kids were obviously fine and that they saw no need.  Instead they were going to be continuing to try and get Harlow or Wyatt to help while we waited for another person to arrive who had something that could unlock the car.

Finally an officer managed to get Harlow to calm down and pick up my keys.  He was getting all excited praising her and telling her to "Press all the buttons sweetheart!  Press them!"  It was comical because at that point you could either cry (which I had already done) or you could laugh.  Plus, Harlow was the perfect person to "Press all the buttons!" she was already an expert at pressing all of my buttons.

Finally she pressed a button that opened the trunk of the van.  I immediately scrambled in and unlocked the van.  The officers were really sweet and helped me buckle in the kids.  They took down some information from me and even gave me a hug.  The bike cop told me he had three kids ages 2, 4, and 6.  He understood what it was like and that accidents happen.

Head strong, authority adverse two-year-olds.  The struggle is real.

1 comment:

  1. I happened to call your dad this afternoon and he told me the story. Your version is much more descriptive!!. I know you don't think so now but this too shall pass and when your write that book --- you will make enough to pay for all the therapy you're going to need :) (just kidding about the therapy) You are a good mom and your kids are gonna be great. Terrible two's only last a couple of years at most.

    Love you


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