Oh no. I tell you about MM entering kindergarten last week to remind all of you that she is only 5. Five. The number of fingers on one hand. One more year than is between Olympic Games and presidential elections.
I know that it's biologically impossible, but I swear my daughter has PMS.
For the past few months, drama seems to happen wherever MM is. Either her brothers are committing some act of fraternal oppression against her, or they're not paying enough attention to her. Her socks are either too tight or not tight enough. The other day, she complained there were not enough bubbles in her bath; when I poured more in, suddenly, there were too many.
I just can't win. We. We just can't win.
She also seems to be having all the food issues that go along with PMS. She's 43 inches and 38 pounds...a tall, slender girl, but she alone can eat me out of house and home. I bought Hershey bars and marshmallows the other day for a recipe (BTW the chocolate chip smore cookies going around Pinterest...totes yummy), and I swear her head spun around and fangs came out when I refused her request for both.
Do they make Midol, Jr.?
|That better be STRAWBERRY, Mother. G'ah!|
Monday, she pitched a mega-fit because Larry Potter dared to turn on the television before she did. There were alligator tears and pounding fists, all with the battle cry of "I haven't watch TV all DAY!" She then demanded her brother turn off his show and turn on hers instead, to which he essentially told her to suck it. I suggested she go downstairs to watch TV, and you would have though I'd offered her generic peanut butter. She was indignant. Five minutes later, still with tears streaming down her face, she asked me to buy her soccer shoes for her first practice. And then happily marched downstairs to watch Spongebob.
I have new appreciation for my husband (and JDub's husband Vitamin P) during those few days of emotional instability I may experience from time-to-time (months at a time for JDub).
I don't know what to do but ride this out for the next seven years or so. And buy her copius amounts of chocolate and marshmallows, because DH and the boys and I are all a little scared of her.