So earlier this week I decided to pick Evie up early from daycare and take her to Baskin Robbins for a special treat. Yay! Fun! Some mother daughter time, just the two of us!
No. Evie wouldn't have a bite of the ice cream. She pitched a fit every time I offered it to her so I was stuck nibbling on a banana split, with my feelings ridiculously hurt because Evie didn't want to share it with me. Also, my mocha drink I ordered was foul and I ended up throwing it away. Pout.
I put her in the car seat to head home and she got mad at me for that.
I put her in her pack-n-play so I could let the dogs out and she got mad at me for that. When I went to pick her up to comfort her she batted my hands away, shook her head at me, and went wrahhhhhhhh!
Finally the Zoo brochure that came in the mail seemed to distract her and make her happy. That is until I noticed her eating it and had to take it away. It sounded like the damn air raid in my house.
Too much dinner! Not enough dinner! Put me down! Pick me up! Ugh. On and on it went until I pulled out the big guns: DIEGO and her bouncer. Ahh. Sweet sigh of relief. I texted my friend Libba and this is how out conversation went.
Yup. Pretty spot on Libba. About five minutes later banshee baby started again. Le sigh. Definitely bath time (which is also known as insta-happy-baby) and bedtime. I knew it was early but she was clearly exhausted. So we, of course, happily played in the bath and had a tickle attack while I was drying her off.
Then after, when she was all sweet baby smelling and calm as could be, she let me feed her a bottle, cuddle her, sing to her and rock her to sleep. I was all like what.just.happened? Toddlerhood is like a total emotional roller coaster.
She might be a total drama queen bipolar diva, but she's my total drama queen bipolar diva.