At a loss what to get the children in your life this holiday season?

Try the latest toy craze— Zhu Zhu pets, fuzzy electronic hamsters that mimic the intelligent responses of live animals. Said hamsters love to play and explore the house, making 40 different noises, purring when you stroke them.

My 4-year-old periodically asks for a kitten, so perhaps a Zhu Zhu is the next best thing— playful affection without any mess or work. Simply press the OFF button when you tire of it, and the creature shuts down.

Lately I wish I could turn off my two-year-old. Just for a few hours—or a few days.  

In the past month she’s become the poster child for the Terrible Twos, a phrase I’d previously believed was false advertising.  Her older sister was relatively docile at age two, or maybe I was so sleep-deprived and brain-addled from the screams of newborn colic that her contrary behavior didn’t register.

Now our house has become a war zone. Combat recurs daily at the Battle of Naptime. Invariable, the toddler wins. All napping has ceased and I am a worse mother because of it. Other people’s children may go down for regular, blissful two-hour naps until age five, but I’ve had to let go of that peace and quiet.

One friend described her grief when her daughter finally dropped the nap. “Naptime was like church, man,” she told me, her voice heavy with emotion.

The sleep books say that it isn’t normal for two-year-olds to stop napping. But when has anything Carmen’s done been normal? From walking at nine months to diving headfirst into the kiddie pool, this child charts her own course. I may have prayed during pregnancy for a mellow, even-tempered boy, but genetics or God gave us this fiery girl, this fearless lion cub— little Leo with Aries rising and a Taurus moon.

When my husband drew up her astrological birth chart, she was three months old and howling hard. Stunned, we realized she’d been born under the three most stubborn signs of the Zodiac. “The Lion, The Bull, and The Ram,” we sang to her, a half-apprehensive, half-proud lullaby.

“Well, what did you expect with a name like Carmen?” friends asked us. Perhaps a name can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, determining a child’s temperament. Now she is physically strong and sturdy, with muscled deltoids beneath her baby-fat. In the house she leaves a swathe of destruction in her wake.

Recently, Carmen has broken or lost: three digital alarm clocks, three TV remotes, one cordless phone, five Max and Ruby DVDs, one “phone list” of essential numbers, numerous prized sibling art projects, and several of her mother’s cooking creations (among other things). She recently ruined a batch of freshly made applesauce—pink, sweet, still warm—by dumping in half a jar of mayonnaise.

“Carmen, NO!” I yelled, discovering her stirring mayo into my sauce with a decidedly naughty grin.

Her face crumpled and she erupted in screams, throwing herself to the floor.

“BAD MOMMY!” she wailed. “NOOOOOOOO!”

Clearly my own yelling only makes matters worse, whether she’s ripping up books, cutting her own hair, pulling the colorful tails off her sister’s handmade shooting stars, or leaving a trail of paprika on the rug.

But is this a discipline problem or poor babyproofing? One parenting book suggests that I rearrange the entire house so she has no access to anything naughty. I should vigilantly transform every room into a child-friendly zone, putting a lock on one, adult-only door. But I’m too lazy to go to such extremes, and part of me refuses to adjust the family’s lifestyle to her developmental stage. She needs to learn about the social world, discover that the universe does not revolve around her 30-pound desires.

For reassurance I pour over my favorite book on toddlerhood, written in 1976 when parenting expectations were far lower. In Your Two-Year-Old, Terrible or Tender, Louise Bates Ames describes Two as a time of developmental disequilibrium. Apparently, many two-year-olds are “rigid, oppositional, negative, and generally difficult” little people.

Ames explains that Carmen acts “imperious, bossy, and demanding… because the world seems big and dangerous to her, and it helps her feel secure if she can command even a small part of it (her mother).” Ames also suggests: “Conflict with the parent may be so extreme and frequent that it may be wise for someone else to take over, at least for part of the time.”

What a relief! After hours of tantrums, NO’s, and BAD MOMMY’s— after her insistence that absolutely everything be done “BY MYSELF” (zipping up her jacket, buckling her carseat)— I’m ready to turn Carmen off or turn her over to Daddy. Father and daughter exist in harmony lately. He gives her free rein and lots of relaxed attention, two things I can’t manage in my state of multitasking, motherly distraction.

“How can I miss you if you never go away?” quips one marriage manual.

This maxim holds true for me and my toddler. She loves me best when I’m gone, and I start to miss her impish smile and contagious belly-laugh before too long. Our reunions are sweet, before the battles rage anew.

Tags:   discipline · toddlers · two-year-oldNo Comments