I'm Raising a Jerk

Let me preface this entry by stating that I undeniably, 100% love my kid, no question about it, that said, I don't know how much I actually like her sometimes.

Trust me, I am VERY aware that this is NOT something you are supposed to say, if the mommy thought police get  a hold of this blog I will probably be black listed from the PTA before she's even in school and forced to turn in my fanny pack, (no, I don't actually own a fanny pack)

What I'm trying to say is, even though I totally love my kid, I am so not into her/parenting sometimes. She is incredibly bossy and demanding, a trait i was able to overlook when she was unable to speak and just flailed her arms and babbled at me adorably. But now that she has mastered the art of demanding cookies, and requiring them immediately, coupled with an almost diva like ability to whine, fall on the floor and stomp, I am just down right sick of hearing it.

She interrupts, not just me, but others, phone calls, doctors, animals, she's and equal opportunity annoyer, yesterday she woke me up from a dead sleep to ask if it was dark outside, we were in a car, it was clearly not dark.

She is super needy, requiring my undivided attention while she explains for the 100th time the rule for the made up game, "Kitty, Witch, Princess and Queen" a game in which I always end up being the kitty, capturing her, and putting her in the microwave. The princess always escapes, and the kitty always dies, did I mention she cheats too?

My kid pees her pants, screams and babbles incessantly, and is constantly dirty, if she were 20 years older, she'd be in a home or a corner in Seattle wearing a tin foil hat.

As it is, she is four and despite all evidence to the contrary, reasonably sane. I can't help but wonder why mom's put up with this nonsense?

I would never allow a co-worker, or even a close friend to hit me and tell me that they would prefer to live with their auntie because I won't get out of the bathroom this instant and make them some chocolate milk.

If I fell to the floor saying my legs hurt too bad to do my spreadsheets, my boss would either fire me, or commit me.

But for a four year old, we make concessions, a gentle reminder that patience is a virtue, a not so subtle bribe that if you let mommy pee in peace, she will put marshmallows in your cocoa, or when all else fails, a time out, the most major of all pre-school punishment options, sometimes, I would KILL for a time out. So what about next time? Another tantrum? Perhaps a return to the days of biting? I can't help but wonder, am I raising a jerk?

I am aware that adult punishments are not appropriate for a four year old and that screaming "just shut the hell up and get your own damn cocoa!" would probably damage her budding psyche, but all the love and gentle reminders and counting to three  cannot erase that stink of dislike I feel when she tells me that SHE is the boss of her shoes and if she WANTS to wear them on the wrong feet, she will!

I find myself looking back at her and quickly losing my grip, reverting back to my days of preschool terror. I have what some would call an "out of body experience", watching my adult mouth, generally so composed and level headed, actually form the words "NUH-UH!"

As I stamp my very grown up feet, clad in sensible shoes, and she stamps her, clad in tiny pink and white-flowered sneakers, we stare each other down.  I see us, both red faced, locked in a battle of wills, she determined to convince me, me, determined to not give in. Three feet tall or not, she could take down Goliath with her angry face.

Most of the time, I cave, and it makes me dislike myself as much as I dislike her at the moment. I am encouraging the tiny jerk inside her, feeding it, making it stronger than the sweet baby I still see somewhere behind the overpowering need for string cheese.

I like to tell myself that I am picking my battles, and in the long run, she'll be better adjusted if I only fight her on the important stuff, the interrupting will go away with time, the tantrums are only a phase, this string cheese, right now, will solve every problem and the demon will lose possession of my baby and all will be right with the world.

Right?

Or maybe she'll be the bitch cutting me off in traffic and dominating the sales meetings while she berates her husband for buying the wrong diamond. I guess a little bitch can't hurt a woman in today's world, lets just hope she knows when to pick her battles too.