Sweet Pea and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

"Because you can do everything right and still have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."

Hey Mama,

You have space for me to vent for a second? Ok. Cool.

So this wasn’t the post I had in mind for today. But in the spirit of transparency (and because this blog often serves as my journal), I need to get something off my chest. 

Yesterday broke me. 

Not in a dramatic way, but in the way that only a day full of toddler meltdowns can achieve. From the moment my Sweet Pea woke up at 6:30am to the moment she finally fell asleep over two hours past her bedtime—still crying—it was relentless.

Last week, her school was closed for a week for Christmas break. So she was home with me and with a bad cold that derailed all the plans we had. No family visits. No trips to the museum. No outings to see all the holiday lights and attractions. No way to burn off energy. And day after day, the tantrums only got worse.

Maybe it was because she wanted to go out. Maybe it was because she was bored. Maybe it was because she missed her friends and teachers. I don't know. All I know is that by yesterday, we'd both reached our limit.

She woke up crying.

In an effort to let me sleep in a little longer, my lover responded to Sweet Pea’s cries and went into her room to handle the morning routine. Only he practically had to force her out of bed and to the potty because she refused to move. Why? Because she wanted mommy. She wanted me. When she saw it wasn't me getting her up, she started wailing, "What happened,” “Where's mommy,” “I NEED MOMMY!" Oh, she even had a meltdown when she saw that her clothes hamper wasn't in the right place.

So I begrudgingly hopped out of bed and went into the bathroom where she was whining, asking for her big girl underwear, and requesting oatmeal. After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and giving her, her vitamin and cough medicine, I made oatmeal and sat down to eat with her. But after only a couple of bites, she told me she didn’t want anymore. She wanted waffles instead.

And in an effort to put my foot down and not relax my boundaries, I gave her a firm no. Because every time she asks for waffles, I make them, she doesn't eat them, and I end up throwing them away. And with the way inflation is set up, milk, flour, eggs, baking powder, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, butter, and syrup ain’t cheap. And well, neither is my time. 

After our failed breakfast, she asked to go into the living room and watch the third parent in our household, Ms. Rachel. I could tell she was getting bored after a while, so I suggested we put together the puzzle she'd been itching to do since Christmas. But then she whined because it took too long to open the box. She whined when I separated the edge pieces. And she got upset each time one of the pieces she wanted to put together wouldn’t fit. So, I did what any parent would do: I redirected. I stayed calm. I reassured her. I encouraged her. I clapped each time we matched the right pieces. Over and over and over again.

Then came the gingerbread house. 

She asked to decorate it, and so we did. But when the time came to actually assemble the house we'd just decorated? A full meltdown complete with kicks, flailing arms, and a river full of tears. My lover and I agreed that it was best to remove her from the table and clean everything up before the tantrum escalated any further.

When I took her to the bathroom to wipe her face, she told me she was hungry and asked for yogurt and granola. And to my surprise, she actually ate it. We played a little more. Then lunch time came. Only of course, she didn't want it. So we proceeded to do her naptime routine: four books and then the potty before bed. 

She then had a fit when I said she told her she could only take one book with her to the bathroom. And it quickly turned into a full meltdown when I told her she could only take one book with her to bed.

That's when her attempts at manipulating the system started. 

She needed to use the potty again. She needed water. She needed to eat (after previously refusing lunch). She carried on like that for an hour before she falling asleep.

After napping for a little over an hour and a half, she woke up crying. About what? Your guess is as good as mine. But the crying continued until she went to the potty. Then she cried because she wanted to take her pull-up off and put her big girl underwear back on. I then asked if she wanted a snack and she asked for an apple and crackers. Which, once again, to my surprise, she ate it.

While watching the The Magic School Bus and playing with her new toy school bus, my lover suggested we all watch a family movie. And that went well. We even had a dance party after the movie ended. Only for her to have a total meltdown, asking to watch it again. But by then, it was time to start preparing dinner.

She didn't eat her macaroni. She wanted to nibble on cabbage and drink milk instead. Then she spilled milk on herself and the floor. (And if you follow me on Substack, I’ve already shared the lesson on grace that we both learned from crying over spilled milk.)

At that point, I was approaching my limit. 

I calmly assisted her out of her booster seat and took down her hair. Then came bath time.

While Sweet Pea was in the tub, I explained that it was time to take her bandaid off. Before school was out, she hurt her finger, resulting in me replacing the bandaid every night for over a week, and she no longer needed it. But upon removing the bandaid, she lost it. She even called for her dad, trying to tell on me. 

Then she cried because I hadn't laid her socks out with her pajamas. She cried on the way to the bathroom to brush her teeth with her dad. She cried through story time. She cried when it was time to use the potty one more time before bed.

And then she cried for over two hours before finally going to sleep.

I put her in her bed around 7:45pm, and she cried until damn near 10:30. She cried because she wanted to sleep with more books, after I had already given her two. She cried because she wanted me to tuck her in again after she kicked off her covers. She cried because she didn't need one of her stuffed animals. She just cried and threw a fit and then cried some more.

By the time she finally fell asleep, I had nothing left. No patience. No answers. No reassurance for myself that I was doing this right.

I was angry. I could barely think straight. And I didn’t know what to do.

My lover and I did everything we were supposed to do yesterday. We stayed calm. We held boundaries. We validated her feelings. We offered choices. We were consistent. We comforted. We consoled. We coddled. And none of it mattered. She was still miserable. And we were still helpless.

And now I'm sitting here questioning everything: Am I being too strict? Not strict enough? Is this normal toddler behavior or is something actually wrong? How much longer is this phase going to last? Will it ever end, or is this just my life now?

I feel empty. Hollowed out. Like I gave everything I had yesterday and it still wasn't enough.

Thankfully, her school reopened this week. But she still woke up crying at 5:35 this morning. Still whining. Still fussing. Still asking something of me that I don't know how to give, and even if I could figure it out, I still don't know if it would be good enough.

But I have to keep showing up. I have to set the same boundaries and weather the same storms, even though I have no idea if any of it is working. Even though yesterday proved that sometimes, nothing works.

Now, here’s the thing, Mama, if you’re looking for a deeper reflection or lesson that I’ve learned from all of this, I just don’t have it, my love. I don't have a breakthrough, aha moment, or optimism for what’s to come. I'm just in it, struggling, barely keeping my head above water.

But what I can offer you is solidarity. 

If you’re a fellow toddler mom, or just a mom in general, who is seemingly getting their ass handed to them by their kid(s), and have had one of these days where you did everything right and it still wasn’t good enough, where you questioned every choice you made, where you felt angry and helpless and completely depleted, I see you.

I don't know how to fix this. I don't know when it gets easier. I just know we're not alone in how hard this is.

And that some days, just surviving has to be enough. Even when on days where it doesn't feel like it.

With Love,

Racquel