greenrobin - Diva was just 6 months old when she came to us. Her brother little more than a year and a half.
I hate to even admit that because I fear judgement. My family although usually very supportive, is always asking how bad could a 1 and 2 year old really be? It's only recently, with us spending all of Thanksgiving day and then that following weekend with them that they've seen how truely hurt babies can be by what they've been through, and how tough it can be to care for them as a result.
Since then all I've gotten is why are you doing this to yourself - ugh. Comments like that aren't terribly helpful when I'm already wondering that myself at times!
I don't know. This morning was just my breaking point. A lot of people don't believe a baby Diva's age can tantrum with intent. Bologna. I couldn't put her down on the waiting room floor this morning during Rebel's speech therapy appointment because people were dragging in snow and it was all wet. Despite my best efforts, at one point she got so angry about the lack of freedom she turned towards me, screached and then proceeded to lash out and claw my eye. Temporarily blinded she then reached out and ripped out a CLUMP of my hair. Then she threw herself on the floor and I thought for sure we'd be on our way to the ER for a head lac. I actually contemplated requesting a helmet for her because her favorite thing to do when she's mad (which is nearly all the time) is to whack her head forward or backward out of anger. To date we've avoided serious injury but it still terrifies me when she does it - which at the least is 20+ times a day.
I'm still half blind, with blurry vision in my left eye. Driving home on slippery roads was, hmm, interesting and terrifying at the same time would be an accurate description. If it doesn't resolve by the end of the day I'll have to go in tomorrow and see if she did any damage to my cornea.
If that wasn't bad enough, when Rebel came out, we went to grab his coat off the rack and he saw someone's half eaten sandwich in a nearby trash can. You can only imagine what ensued when I denied him the leftovers. I'm sure we were quite a sight, me half blind and squinting, Rebel pitching the mother of all tantrums lunging and nearly pulling the trash can over to get to the sandwich as if he hasn't been fed for days, hair a pulled out mess, baby still trying to beat me up and my two following behind, but not too closely, likely in an attempt to not be associated with the drama.
It sort of makes me laugh now to imagine what others waiting there were thinking, but then there's another part of me that wonders what the heck is wrong with me and why on earth I continue to put myself in that position in the first place
