Flip Flops


If there’s one guarantee of parenthood, it’s that things will change. Normally, when you’ve gotten a manageable hold on one of their phases, that’s when their little brains seemingly say, “oh yea?? You think you know what you’re doing? How ’bout …… NOW?!”

And just like that, you find your normally difficult argumentative independent seven year old sitting outside the bathroom waiting patiently for the newly insecure and anxious three and a half year old while she poops. … telling her a story.

If I hadn’t been here, I don’t think I could have believed it.

The three year old has flip flopped so largely with my son that it’s driven me to a Positive Discipline Parenting class…. god help me.  In all the difficult rollercoaster moments i’ve been through with my son, i’ve never been driven to a parenting course.

I’m sure this fact shows if you’ve read even a paragraph of any of my parental rants.

Driven to therapy? Yes. Absolutely. But ‘training’ ? Never.

It makes sense, and i’m a big enough person to completely agree that i’ve now just begun to feel like i’m out of my element. If I could have gone while my son was younger, I would have. Since the brain-scramble i’ve been through the past seven years with my son, my Mom Tank is just empty when it comes to ideas and patience with the child that began life as an angel. The kid that used to do what I asked … the first time I asked.. has been snatched and was replaced by a typical screaming, arguing, foot-stomping, hand-on-hip challenging, scratching, kicking imp of a girl.

I’ve been reliving and ruminating on the fact that my kids are getting older and the baby stuff is all out. .. and what all this means. Sippy cups are gone. The kid character cups are fewer and fewer. I think there’s only one small character fork left in the drawer and it was left over from my son. My daughter has been using a Lightning McQueen fork for the last two years, but could care less. I threw away two sectioned toddler plates the other day and found myself looking in the cupboards to take inventory of what’s left. It wasn’t much.

People I know are having babies and pregnant celebrities are all over the place. I’m fine with that. It’s just a foreign feeling to transition things to bigger kids.

My daughter is only 3 1/2. I’m in no way delusional that i’m not needed or they are 100% independent. She’s still a small kid, but the fact that all the baby stuff has made it’s way out of the house for good is just strange. For seven years i’ve had stinky sippy cups rolling around my car. I’ve had pieces and corks and lids rolling around drawers. I’ve had stacked and separated baby plates and silverware.

It’s freeing in a way. I find that I get nostalgic sometimes when I pass the baby aisles, though.

So for this moment in time, my big kid is actually the mature(ish) one and my three year old is acting accordingly.

Strangely, it still all makes me want to go raid a bar and try staying out past 10 to enjoy myself!

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