Yesterday was a Terrible. Horrible. No Good. Very Bad Day.
Violet was fine, Aaron was fine, but I was a walking raw nerve. I was a caricature of hormonal bitchiness. I finally told Violet that I was in a VERY bad mood and although it was not her fault, she should probably obey my every command without complaint. Violet hugged me and then ran away.
Sigh.
After a hideous bedtime routine (complete with a few breaks for deep breathing), I fixed myself a drink and called it a night. I rarely stretch out an estrogen rampage to two days, so I figured going to bed was the best solution.
In the morning Violet began reconstructing the blanket fort that she has been obsessed with for three days. I was feeling much better and, at first, her whiny private speech didn't bother me. I offered words of encouragement and went about my business. Violet continued to grouse about the fort. It wasn't right. It was messed up. The cats wouldn't get out. It kept collapsing. I started taking deep breaths.
I tried to get Violet to work out her structural issues on her own, but she claimed it was too hard. I asked her to remember how the fort looked yesterday, but that was too hard as well. That's when she channeled Macho Man Randy Savage*, picked up a chair and slammed it down in an explosion of rage. I shouted, UNACCEPTABLE! WE DON'T THROW THINGS! and a few other embarrassing parental edicts before remanding Violet to the custody of the time-out chair.
Violet was seething. I would not have been surprised to see steam come out of her nostrils, along with the river of angry snot. I made an honorable attempt at leading her in guided meditation. For a moment Violet calmed down enough to tell me she was floating on a circle shaped cloud. Meditating has worked in the past, but this time it didn't take. She just couldn't keep it together and I was forced to abandon ship. I went upstairs and sat in my bed, while she threw a full body tantrum on the living room floor. My raw nerve was bubbling up to the surface again. It took everything I had to not start shrieking at the top of my lungs in harmony with Violet. I felt a primordial urge to out shout her.
The tantrum went on for about 10 minutes and then it got very quiet. Violet observed a full minute of silence before she started up again, this time with heart-wrenching pleas for cuddles and kisses. Such was my state that I couldn't just go to her. I shouted that she would have to be quiet. I couldn't handle the noise. She agreed and we sat down on the couch to watch an episode of Life.
The birds seemed to sooth her (and me as well), but I thought it best to leave the house and get some distance from the fort. We spent the rest of the afternoon having a perfectly lovely time at our favorite busy park. Violet found some playmates and was cool as a cucumber, even when it was time to leave. Once we got home, whatever grievous imperfections there were about the fort had been forgotten. I haven't got the energy to try and figure out what started this whole mess. For the sake of my mental health, I believe we will be avoiding forts for a few days.
*I have no idea if Mr. Savage ever threw a chair in a match. I couldn't think of any other name.
