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  • Writer's pictureKristin Woodward

worst. mommy. ever.

prefacing this one by saying that Spy is in Italy. Italy!!! for a week!! Miss Girl and i are holding down the fort here with terrible twos officially kicked in (right on schedule, as my perfect daughter would ensure).

so. this is the first night ever in 2 years and who knows how many nights of reading (sometimes multiple) bedtime stories, that Miss Girl was sent to bed with no story.

i wore her out on a post (2.5 hour) nap walk that was just supposed to be a quick jaunt. she kept insisting this way, this way. and amazingly knew how to get to the playground without any prompting from Mommy. an hour and a half later, we arrived back at home. after a quick dinner, she was practically falling asleep in her big girl chair, and i felt like i had totally aced single mommy-hood for the day. she even went upstairs willingly at 8:15.

then it soon fell apart. bath, okay. jammies, okay. storytime? hell, no.

she’s gotten good at manipulating Mommy (apparently these shenannigans don’t happen the twice a week Daddy puts her down). but tonight was rare form. she refused to pick a book and wanted apple juice, instead of the water i’d brought up to stave off that particular diversion tactic. i refused to indulge her in a pajama change after pajamas were on. the refusal to choose a book continued, so i chose Click, Clack, Moo. she screamed, but refused to choose anything else. there was a lot of running in and out of the room screaming, and at one point actually throwing herself down on the ground. i suggested If You Give A Dog A Donut. she spat hate at me.

so i pulled the i’m bigger than you are card. swooped her up from the hallway and into bed sans story for the first time ever. she was standing in her crib screaming when i left the room. i told her i loved her and to have a good night. downstairs, i immediately drown my guilt in a glass of Sauv Blanc and wanted to cry.

and you know what? the whole thing was over in about 9 minutes. seriously. 9 minutes of sheer gut-wrenching guilt, listening to her screaming upstairs and watching the monitor, knowing she was so irate that she was standing up yelling at me. and then she stopped. and laid down. and went to sleep.

apparently, Mommy is the softie in the house, and i just need to get over her tirades. but wow. wow. can’t wait to see what issues come up in therapy 20 years from now, all because of Mean Old Mommy. sigh.

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