My sweet, innocent, helpful, and obliging little girl seemed to turn into a deranged monster overnight.
Last night, out of nowhere, Nya went into a full on fit after dinner. After an already challenging few weeks, and very little sleep, I felt like I was about to lose my mind.
When I sensed a fit beginning in the past, I would calmly tell her, "It's ok to be angry", and walk away, completely ignoring her. That has always stopped the fit, usually before it even happens.
But not last night.
And not tonight either.
Last night, I felt at a complete loss as I watched my sweet little girl hurl herself to the floor, wailing at the top of her lungs. She was MAD.
I tried ignoring her.
I tried consoling her.
I tried reasoning with her.
I tried distracting her (which helped temporarily), but nothing fully pulled her out of this rage.
I knew I needed to get moving...fast. I had to get her upstairs, bathed, and into bed as quickly as possible. For both of our sanities.
Nya finally calmed down when she climbed into the bathtub, and my happy little girl appeared to be back.
Momentarily.
After handing me one of her wash cloths, voluntarily, Nya immediately went into hysterics about it. She began flailing herself in the tub; screaming tears as though I had just committed the worst act of motherhood.
I felt completely helpless, concerned, and dumbfounded as I watched my little girl unravel before my eyes. I was not prepared for this, and could only draw on the little patience I had left to make it through the evening.
I had moments of sadness to see Nya so unhappy. Moments of confusion as I couldn't justify the cause. And moments of sheer exasperation as I prayed for it to stop.
Luckily, we breezed through the bath and I got her into bed happily and without protest. Thank GOD.
So ok, maybe Nya was just really, really tired, I thought to myself.
But unfortunately, that independent mind of hers is beginning to exercise its freedom, test the boundaries, and explore my limitations. Great.
Tonight, I was prepared.
After we played in her new kitchen, I asked Nya to help me pick up the pasta (she has her own bin of uncooked pasta she plays with) that she had spilled everywhere. She flat out ignored me. It was as though I was not even speaking. I asked her 3 times to pick up the pasta.
Nya finally began to pick up the pasta...one by one. She would pick up a piece, exaggeratedly lift her arm up over her head, slowly bring her hand down toward the bin of pasta, turn her hand over and open each finger one at a time, before dropping the single piece in. Everything was in slow motion. ONE. BY. ONE. Then she simply stopped and went back to doing what she wanted to be doing... Which did not involve picking up.
I asked Nya to help me pick up the pasta. I told her to pick up the pasta. I gave Nya her last warning and counted to 3.
This is really going to happen.
Without another word, I picked Nya up and placed her on a spot against the wall for her very first time out.
Immediately, the wails began. I proceeded to pick up the rest of her toys, while trying to ignore the high pitched screams and intense stare I felt at my back. Twice she got up. Each time, I simply picked her up and put her right back without saying a word. Finally, she calmed down and sat there quietly. Time out lasted two minutes, but it felt like forever.
I went back over to her, explained why she was sitting there, and told her I still loved her. She gave me a big hug and kiss, and I asked if she wanted to help me finish picking up the pasta. She did, and we quickly, and happily, cleaned up the rest of the mess together.
Thankfully, the remainder of the night managed to go fairly smoothly, but I can only imagine what tomorrow will hold...
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