A few months ago I asked Stevie her name and she of course replied “Stevie”. I then asked her what her middle name was and she answered “Mess”. I guess she’s heard enough to stop messin’, she’s made a mess or just plain is a mess that it left an impression. She started causing trouble in utero with a miscalculated due date that had her test positive for Down’s Syndrome. Her reign of mayhem began when she arrived, much faster than I anticipated and a few hours later proceeded to turn blue. She was taken to the NICU, a little out of place at almost 9 pounds, and I went home without a baby. It turned out that she had made her entrance into the world a little to quickly for the natural process of clearing out her lungs to occur and thankfully I only had to spend one night away from my newborn. She has continued to confound, exhaust and frazzle me for the past two years.
The terrible twos are hitting her…well more me… like a ton of bricks. On Saturday after another rousing Paci fight and her bawling like a Banshee through the house and me continually sending her back to room until she was through crying I found myself telling my husband “I will not negotiate with that terrorist”. The terrible twos are about testing boundaries, pushing limits and asserting individuality but I think that has been Stevie’s modus operandi since day one.
She asserts “I’m just petting her” when told to stop bothering the dog. A few weeks ago she told everyone individually at the table with the point of a finger “You not the boss”. Whenever anything goes wrong, “Brenna did it, Jessie did it…NOT ME.” She touches absolutely everything she shouldn’t. When caught with her sisters make-up kit she gasped, realized it was me and not Brenna and conspiratorially said “Close the door!”
Yesterday was a jewel in her crown as Queen of Terror. She took it upon herself to leave the house, I catch up with her as she strolls down the sidewalk saying “Going to visit my friends”. I spanked her, and she had to sit in time-out where she asserted through her tears that Brenna did it. She knows that running around while I’m in the kitchen is a no go. So she added a chant as she went “I run around the house. Mommy tells me no”. At bedtime I thought after the bath a little relaxing lavender lotion was in order. The little anarchist must have known this measure was to calm her down so she took it up a notch. Normally bed time for her, after all the struggles of the day, is not an ordeal. Last night that was not the case. I had to take away a leapster, put pajamas back on, and remove high heel dress up shoes and tuck her back in 4 times between 8 and 11. Then she was giggling at me at 4 am. Back to bed. Around 5, Stephen got out of bed to find her on the couch using my computer. This afternoon as we walked in to the church for ashes, she announced to everyone “Jesus is in here!”. Not in an adorable baby girl voice either. More like Arsenio Hall. I think everyone in the pews was waiting for a “Whoop, whoop!” and some roof raising. While typing this Brenna alerted me that Stevie was spraying cleaner, as I approached Stevie put her back to the wall and pleaded “Don’t beat me!” I kid you not.
She is lucky to have a button nose and big blue eyes, but I think she’s using it to her advantage. I’d have strangled an ugly kid a long time ago.