The One Where I Ramble and You Just Smile and Nod

If looks could kill, I'd be the Guest of Honor at Ryan's next make-believe funeral.

What the hell? How come there's all this hype about the Terrible Two's and Three's, but not a word about the Fucking Fours???

This kid needs to eat Midol for breakfast or something. Maybe I should sprinkle some of my Prozac in her chocolate milk, 'cause it sure ain't helping me now.

Remember a while back I talked about Ryan's teenage ways? They just keep getting worse. I'm beginning to think there actually is no end in sight. Shit, at the rate we're going we won't have a damn thing to worry about come age 13. We'll have this attitude-on-legs issue completely under control. That, or we'll just go into hiding.

The kid is seriously getting out of hand. Every day, it's a glare here, a snicker there. Every day she randomly yells that she hates me, then 5 seconds later is all over me, clinging as though I was, like, her Mom or something. Her mood swings definitely leave mine in the dust (no small feat if you know me at all).

Right now she is leaning on me, whining about wanting to eat when, I kid you not, 3 minutes ago she said she would rather watch her new video from the library than eat. 3 minutes from now? She'll insist she's not hungry. She's like an insane human yo-yo.

Speaking of the library, I'm pretty sure we'll never go back, and for once it has nothing to do with Evil Librarian Bitch. Ryan just will not sit still at storytime. Every other kid in the joint, bigger or smaller than her, becomes mesmerized the minute the storylady starts until the very last reel on the projector runs out. Every kid except for Ryan. She's up, she's down, she's on her knees, she's on my lap, she's on top of Jax, she's on top of some other kid. It has become so stressful and such a big issue that today I had to pull her out early because she was hiding behind the curtains and whining that she was hungry (she had just finished a box of juice, a banana, a bag of Cheez-its and some Barbie fruit chews). She hadn't paid attention to ANY of the books that were read, but you better believe the moment I pulled her out into the hall, that story room was the only place on the Earth she wanted to be.

She kicked, she screamed, she cried. She tried to drag me back and when that didn't work, she ran in front of the stroller and tried to stop me from moving forward. Doors were quietly shut all along the hallway as we dragged each other along.

I've got a huge consignment sale coming up next weekend, and have selected some never-used toys to add to the clothes I'm sending. She of course spots the Barney Music book and has not stopped playing the music. As I'm writing this, she is in her room crying because I just took the damn thing and threw it out the window. I'm serious. Go look in my backyard if you don't believe me.

I've been thinking that maybe she is just bored, so we put her in Kids Day Out thinking she would love it, right? Well, yeah, kinda. She likes the idea of going but when we get there, she clings onto my leg and we go through the whole drama of wah wah wah --my brain is so overloaded I cannot think straight. Seriously, you have caught me at a "moment", so just sit back and be grateful that today is not your turn.

I am so proud of my brilliant daughter, until she throws her brilliance back in my face which you bet your sweet ass she does on a daily basis. Just now? When I threw away the Barney Death Book? She just came back in and informed me in her never-ending snooty way that I'm "not very good at sharing." I'm gonna kill her.

She tells me she doesn't like my attitude when I'm getting on to her for something. She must have brass balls hidden under that Cinderella dress, 'cause I'm the scariest thing since IT when I get mad, and still she calls me out.

And how come everything out of her mouth (when not sassing me) is in whine-form? EVERYTHING. I'm hungry. I'm sleepy. I'm boring (she means bored, but whatever).

Nothing is ever ever ever never good enough for this child, and when she does pick a moment to be happy and fun, she either goes so far off the deep end we have to call in the Lifeguard (Time Out), or she wants to pretend we're all someone else, and yes, mommy, you have to pretend or I will throw a tantrum and make you wish you were dead.

I am so tired I wake up ever morning feeling as though I got drunk the night before when, in fact, I haven't had a drink in weeks (hmmm...). Half the tiem she wants to be uuber-independent, and the other half she refuses to do anything without my help. "Pick my dolly up off the floor? It's too hard. But you must not even attempt to help me brush my hair or teeth."

She begs and pleads and begs and pleads to play with a friend, and when she finally gets the chance, she wants nothing to do with them I think it's a parallel to loving the "chase", except in her case, it's loving the "driving Mommy insane". And she's getting really good at it.

And don't think she doesn't know what she's doing, either. The other day, in an effort to kill 2 birds blah blah blah, I put a Hershey's Dark Chocolate Kiss in her lunch box. Know what she said? "Look what you did Mom, this is gonna make me craaaazzzyy!"

Every day is opposite day in the land of the Fucking Fours, and if you want her to do something you should really tell her not to do it, and all will be copacetic. Look at me, I'm not even making sense. I have a meeting at 1 pm, a kitchen to clean, lunch to make, and I am blabbering to you people who will inevitably tell me to suck it up or "make lemonade".

As God as my witness, if any of you leave a smart-ass comment like that, I will hunt you down and make you babysit.