As if having droopy tits down to my belly button and having no money wasn’t bad enough, my child has now decided to throw tantrums. Mother of god I need a break *shakes fist at universe.
It has been building up all week, she has been mastering a variety of new skills. She can turn her bones to liquid and and she will slither out of your arms like a slug.
Her aim is perfect, she nailed an old lady in the face with her dummy when we were in a lift.
She has an iron grip, so if she wants it, she keeps it.
My favorite is something we all know, she loves to look at herself when she cries, it’s great, I spent the ages 12 through to 16 doing it, so I get it.
Trying to dress her is insane, she arches her body and twists and screams, it’s like we are tasering her.
And if we displease her, she runs. Which is super duper with my elephantiasis cankle.
Tonight was kind of amazing to watch, we went for a lovely walk in the park and when we got home I made the worst mistake ever…. I dared to mention PIZZA.
Isla is mildly obsessed with pizza, to the point where she will sit in a trolley and hug a box of frozen pizza, stroking it and mumbling pi-taaa pi-taaa over and over again.
So the mere mention of the word resulted in an absolute meltdown. She clung onto the box, I had to pull out two little squares, and threw them into the oven. Then I wrestled the box away from her and she did that little march on the spot tantrum. And then she stood at the oven holding onto the handle with a full on snot running down the lip wail cry for the full 8 minutes it took the pizza to cook.
I thought I was only supposed to get a shit child when they turn two? I’m going to take her back to my gynae and put on my best southern suburbs mom voice and ask for a refund, mine is clearly faulty.