Hug it out

A handful of facts about Lila that make my life interesting right now:

1) She does not like to wear a diaper.

2) She does not like to use the toilet.

3) She does like to wake up every half hour throughout the night, wander around, and sing her guts out.

These facts existing seperately are unfortunate, maybe even annoying. These facts occuring simultaneously make me want to walk outside every day and hit myself in the nose with a garden shovel, if only for a breath of fresh air.

She is so so so so so so so tired because she truly does, wake up all throughout the night and wander the house. I found her sitting in the bath, washing her hands, reading books, closing doors, going through all her hair clips, and most of all- SINGING at the tippy top of her little lungs. Anabelle of course wakes her up at five am to get the daily party started. She won't nap in the bunk bed. I put her in the pack n play, desperate for her to nap because she turns into a bit of a monster. She poops. She spreads it. Then she wipes it. Then she smears it. Then she rolls and rolicks in it until she is sufficiently covered in every crack and crevase. Then she lays back down and laughs her face off at what I will now spend my afternoon cleaning. Okay fine, I've never actually seen the laughing part but....it seems plausible.

It's a sick thing that I can't understand but it doesn't make it less of a reality for me. It's happening more and more all the time, whether in a bed or not. I have a set of toothbrushes that are just for poop removal of hard to get corners and cracks-this just shouldn't be necessary. Last week while cleaning just such a mess out of the pack n play, I angrily reasoned that if she is big enough to realize her discomfort in diapers, she is big enough to be potty trained.

There are those out there that would have you believe that you cannot force a child to potty train if they are not ready. Well, do I have a message for them! That is the dag-gum truth, unfortunately for me. She peed on the floor five times in a row. Each time, as I would tell her no and explain where she was supposed to go, she would immediately lay her head on my shoulder and hug me in order to avoid eye contact and confrontation. I fold my arms and stare at her, refusing to hug her. She pries open my arms, lets herself in, then re-closes them. It's so hard to maintain anger in that warm, cozy environment.

This is her approach to all uncomfortable situations. If there was a national hug campaign, she would be the captain. To her, there is just nothing a gentle warm hug can't solve. You just can't ruffle her feathers. She goes for the hugs, but even when I am successful at maintaing a fierce & businesslike demeanor, she just really doesn't care. We have disciplined her as much as is appropriate for pooping and waking up- she is totally unaffected. In the moment, she apologizes repeatedly and never argues or throws tantrums. She simply says sorry, looks sorry, and says she won't do it again. And she doesn't. For at least 2 minutes.

I must give myself some credit by acknowleding that I have worked very hard at developing a stern and frightening Mom face to instill fear into my childrens souls at the appropriate times. It might be more effective if my husband didn't laugh at me every time I try to use it. I'm truly doing my best. But even in these most fustrating of moments, Lila is just so funny. I find myself walking away in the middle of it to regain composure because I can't contain my laughter. It's unexplainable; she's just so funny. The words she says, the way she says it, her quirky faces. It's all too much.

She grabs my head with both hands, pulls me in, kisses me, nuzzles me, then she pulls back with a coy smile that says 'See? Now don't you feel better?'. And I would, if only she was tall enough to push the steam cleaner around.

I bought a gate to at least keep the nightly concert corraled in her room. It has helped. At least I know I won't find her singing in the bus stop down the street.

We are two months into this mess and I feel I have exhausted all possible solutions. I fear that time will be the ultimate hero here. Oh man, if I disassemble one more piece of poopy furniture in order to scrub it down, so help me Lanta....