“LET’S GO TO THE PARK! I’m going to bring all my bunnies. Can I wear them in my backpack? I want little bunny on the outside. BUNNIES! WE’RE GOING TO THE PARK!”

#BunnyWearing #MultiplyingLikeRabbits

Nothing but smiles and giggles the whole way to the park, no complaints, no signs of distress, nothing but shiny happy toddler. She even found a big rock and declared it “…big enough and clean enough to be my rock.” Whatever, the kid loves collecting rocks. Just ask our washer and dryer. She collected a dandelion bouquet for me and we jumped over all the “hairy sidewalks.”

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PARK! SWINGING! SLIDES! MERRIMENT! JOY! Bark in my shoe. MORE SWINGING! UNDERDOG! SUNSHINE! PLAY PLAY PLAY!

Under Vivi underdog.

“Time to go.” You see, as the mother I am able to calculate the amount of energy needed for Vivi to make it home without a meltdown in the middle of the street or me having to carry her three blocks. Compound that knowledge with the amount of energy already used at the park and divide it by the previous night’s sleep as well as the fervor in which breakfast was eaten multiplied by how much water she drank compared to her last potty break, it was time to go. Parents? You know this math.

Something in my math was wrong and everything went to crap less than half a block away from the park.

You guys? We forgot the rock. The big rock that was clean enough to be hers.

Forget that I managed to keep Vivi alive, pull of 27+ flawless underdogs, and keep all three bunnies accounted for, the rock was somewhere all alone.

I knew we couldn’t go back for the rock, her little tank was emptying fast and if we went back for the rock there would be even more tears, sobbing and my arms full of 35+ pounds of sweaty terror in my arms for five blocks.

There was foot stomping. There was wailing. There were heartbreaking sobs when I wouldn’t let her pick up a decorative boulder from someone’s yard.

At some point during the first street crossing, we lost a bunny — only we didn’t realize it until half a block later.

“You sit here and watch me go back and get your bunny, okay?”

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*sniff sniff hiccup* “Okay.”

The sniffs turned to wild sobbing demands as soon as we started up again “I WANT TO SNUGGLE! I NEED A CUPCAKE! DADDY! MY SISTER! I JUST WANT TO WATCH MICKEY MOUSE!”

I tried to distract her with a dead fish, but she wanted to pick up the dead fish to replace her big clean rock so I had to distract her with a pile of rocks instead.

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With a rock in each hand and two bunnies under her arm (by the way she was PISSED when she saw that little bunny had snot and tears on him. LIVID. “THROW HIM AWAY!”) we were only two houses away from home, Mickey Mouse and snuggles. In an attempt to wipe hair from her tear soaked cheeks she ended up clocking herself in the head with one of her replacement rocks.

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By then she just gave up. Life just wasn’t worth living anymore. In one short walk back from the park she realized how cruel life can be and crumpled into a heap 20 feet from her own front door.

Basically it’s how every adult wants to act when life gets real crappy but we’re not allowed to because we’re adults.

Next time you see a perfectly sane adult lose their mind, think of the sobbing toddler inside them who just wants a clean rock to call their own and a snuggle with their mama.

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Comments

  1. Love this. Been there, and this was a magnificent description of the toddler breakdown process.

  2. This is my LIFE with two 2.5 year olds. Solidarity.

  3. I feel you. I really really do. Mine is 3 and he is exactly like this. Last night it was the nerf gun he left at Grandma’s…

    And yes, I feel this way myself sometimes. Being an adult isn’t easy.

  4. PREACH, SISTER.

  5. This is every day of my life.

  6. Alisa Empey says:

    Perfectly said!

  7. This sounds like a post for “reasons my son is crying.” (they take submissions for girls, too)

    Love the picture of Vivi. We used to have one of my sister when she was little, where she is crying and has her arms crossed. I don’t remember what the problem was, but I liked the photo. I’m a bad big sister. ;-)

  8. I love that she needed a cupcake. That’s my kind of meltdown!

  9. As a grown adult, I felt like this today. I feel your pain, Vivienne Jean. We all just want a rock clean enough to call our own. Casey? I get you. My non-toddler, must be an adult portion of myself gets you.

    Life is tough.

  10. This is a horrible thing to admit, but THIS is why I can’t leave my job right now, even though I want to and am financially able to. The idea of spending each and every moment with my 2.5 year old (who I absolutely adore!) is terrifying and exhausting. I tell myself that I will continue to work until he is 4, and then I will stay home. I just do not have the patience or energy for the meltdowns, and I am amazed at those who do.

  11. I laughed at the Meltdown Math, because oh yeah, I totally do that too.

    While it’s hard – and man, it is SO hard sometimes – it’s kind of oddly reassuring to know this is normal 3 year-old behavior. And this isn’t my first 3 year-old. But even still, I think we always wonder if we’re doing something wrong? So it’s kind of nice to know that everyone else’s toddlers are adorable tiny psychos too.

    Can’t remember who said it first, but the best thing about 3 year-olds is that eventually they turn 4.

  12. Like Cindy said, it is good to know that others go through the SAME thing. It always is good to know we are not alone, right? Fortunately (as I’m sure you know with Addie) they DO grow out of this… THANK GOD.

    I like your cute, honest take on it though. We gotta laugh at ourselves… :)

  13. That’s why I tell my 3 year old that the rock needs to stay there because it’s her home.

  14. I love this. Absolutely love.

  15. Hi!

    So I’ve never commented but I’ve been silently reading for a bit(found you via The Spohrs are Multiplying– your girls are adorable!).

    I HAD to comment today– although I don’t have kids yet, I worked at a daycare over my summer break, and I absolutely cracked up reading this. Toddlers are funny things.

    Your comment about not being allowed to act like that ’cause we’re adults reminded me of a video we were shown at a daycare training conference I went to this summer: “If Adults had tantrums like toddlers”. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZl_rCJtTsg

    The whole crowd of daycare teachers fell into laughter. One of the funniest things I’ve seen! (And I fully admit I have had the computer problem tantrum. Too many times).

  16. I had just such a meltdown yesterday. In the privacy of my own home. You see, my husband and I just renewed our vows a few months ago, with a professional photographer and everything. I had finalized all the pictures to be developed so I could get started on a beautiful scrapbook. Only…the hard drive crashed. It was looking unlikely that we could save the pictures. I lost my shizz…full on Vivi style.

    Husband came home. Took apart the PC and did his little technical wizardry. Was able to save all the pictures to a backup hard drive.

    *sniff, hiccup* “thanks baby”

  17. This made my day – it’s so nice to know that I am not alone in my toddler struggles. You painted the perfect picture of what days can be like with a little one. We must laugh, we really must laugh more often at this, even when it all seems like too much some days. I think my Stella would get along just fine with your Vivi :)

  18. Oh man I so understand. You make a plan, its going to be fun and carefree, we’re going to be in the moment.

    And then BAM! You left the rock, or in my case yesterday I went through the door before her, meaning I “won” the race and she “lost” the race??? What I did not know there was a race.

    I will admit when her tears are causing me tears, we have quiet time, she falls asleep. I calm down. And that night when daddy is putting her to sleep and keeps asking how she is still awake at 11 and not tired, I just shrug and praise those few moments of calm we both needed.

    Keep sharing your trumps and trials love your spin life.

  19. This is beautiful! Your writing takes us right to the heart of Vivi. Thank you for “sharing” her with us. :)