Momma said there'd be years like this.

Some days this parenting schtick kicks my trash. Or maybe some weeks. I'd admit to some months, but let's not ruin my reputation. We've survived sleep deprivation, tantrums, hitting, teething, destruction, messes, and various other catastrophes, and we're still alive and kicking. But I think Madeline just hit puberty and it's going to kill me. Seriously, when she actually becomes a teenager, just hit me over the head with a stick and wake me up when I have grandchildren. I was expecting a few more years of complete Mommy adoration before she figured out I'm not perfect and started exploiting that. The defiance levels at our house are code red. When I'm not being ignored completely. Or hit. Or breaking up fights among the peasants, mostly instigated by Miss Three and a half, because Kimberly is a pretty smart baby and rarely begins a confrontation she knows she is going to lose. Also, Kimberly is easily distracted by just about everything, whereas Madeline has learned to hang on to her grievances with a scary tenacity which I blame on Jessie (but he'll tell you it's all my fault, and he might be right. Just don't tell him that.) Basically, I have not the first idea how to balance independence and obedience, and affection and discipline. Last year I was pretty sure I knew at least a tiny bit about these subjects, or was confident that through study or trial and error or some other process I would learn. I'm pretty sure in the last two weeks I've become a disciplinary agnostic. If that's a thing. Madeline is probably going to grow up to be a homeless bum. Or a politician. If I had any energy left I'd be thinking up plans to negate these outcomes, but instead I've accepted the inevitability and am consoling myself with Ding dongs and the hope that I get a Parenting for Dummies book for Christmas.

Also, on a somewhat related but mostly random note, I'd like to register my alarm that everyone on television gives birth naturally. And screaming. Seriously. Also, labor on television takes an average of twenty minutes to two hours. As a pregnant women, this makes my hormones unhappy. Not all laboring women, drugged or not, are raving screaming monsters. I have enough parenting esteem issues raising a three year old. Please cut me some slack and start showing more women on epidurals happily watching CSI and eating green jello. That's all I ask.