For the most part Ellie has been doing really well with the new baby.
By really well I mean completely uninterested, apathetic and indifferent. It's like the baby doesn't even exist. Doesn't she know I did this all for her?
Ok, really I did it for myself - giving her a little playmate means I get to watch more uninterrupted daytime TV. I'm just hoping this investment pays off sooner rather than later.
I'm not complaining because it could be way worse - aside from Friday's Day O'Tantrums she hasn't really acted out or sucked TOO bad. I've seen how quickly a kid can go from good to suck when you throw a baby in the mix and she's holding up pretty well.
But yesterday I had to lay the smack down. Which was a really inopportune time for her to start pushing my buttons because Lila has a cold and had been screaming for like a billion hours straight and there were several times throughout the day that I almost called the child abuse hotline on myself because I could literally feel her onesie leaving my fingers as I threw her out the upstairs window.
Anyhoo, every time I found myself incapacitated (mostly the moment the baby finally latched onto my boob) Ellie would toddle into the kitchen and open the party drawer. You know, the drawer that has all the party supplies - wine and bottle openers, lighters, matches, oxycodone, midgets, etc. The one drawer that's off limits and (not that I'm pointing fingers) the one drawer that Nick has yet to put the child safety latch on (again, not pointing fingers but PUT THE FREAKING LATCH ON THAT SHIT!).
Every time she did it I would follow her in there, take her hand off the knob, sternly say "no!" and she would merrily scamper off in another direction.
But yesterday... after hours of screaming baby and no lunch or bathroom breaks I was quickly losing touch with sanity and when I saw her run in there and heard the drawer slide open I decided it was time to break out the big guns. I had to peel the baby off and the subsequent screaming only fueled my fire as I stormed in there ready to put a hurtin' on.
I clapped my hands as loud as I could and screamed "NO!". Then I got down on her level and screamed "NO NO NO!" in her face. For a split second I felt guilty because I thought I had gone too far and scared her good and she would be terrified of me from now on. If anyone would have yelled at me like that at her age I would have shit my pants and gone mute for a year.
But that split second vanished when she looked at me... and laughed. Hysterically. Not only was she not phased but she was mocking me.
Oh HELLS no.
All I could think was WWSND (what would Super Nanny do)? She has those kids eating out of the palm of her hand by the end of every episode and I've never seen her beat one single kid's ass.
I remembered something about time out so I dragged her over to the corner, all the while she was cracking up. I set her on the floor where she happily sat for the entire time I fed the baby, missing the whole point.
How unfulfilling for me! How can she not be afraid of mad mommy? That was my trump card... I've got nothing left.
I guess it's time to make her go cut her own switch from the backyard. Pretty sure Supernanny would frown on that but I can't have her eating the party drawer peyote.