Pushing my buttons

Tuesday was a bad day.  Bad bad.  I wasn’t home when Paul put Courtney to bed on Monday night but I’m pretty sure he put MY baby into her bed.  I don’t know what happened between the hours of 7:30pm and 8:00am but the devil woke up in her bed.

Courtney wouldn’t nap. She was hitting.  She was playing in the dogs water bowl.  She was playing in the dirt of a house plant.  She knocked a plant over and spilled dirt all over the floor.  She was beating on the dog.  And then not napping some more.  And I’d say “Don’t play in the water bowl” and she’d go right over and spill it.  And then again.  Wash. Rinse. Repeat.  “Don’t play in the dirt, Courtney” and she’d look at me and stick her hand right in the plant.  “Don’t play in the trash” and in her hand would go.  She may only be 14 months old but she knew exactly what she was doing.  Most of the time, she thought it was funny.

But Tuesday, buttons.  Pushing. My. Buttons.

Wednesday was better but not great.  She still wasn’t napping and was generally whiny.  I finally took her to the doctor, wondering if she had an ear infection.  Nope.  She’s just teething.  A LOT.  And slowly.  I guess all those teeth just transpire to sheer mysery.  How can we put a man on the moon but can’t come up with something to alleviate all teething pain?  I’m just sayin’.

And really, this was nothing compared to what will happen in the future.  Wait till she’s 2.  Or 3.  I shudder at the thought.

I don’t like how I handled myself.  I snapped at Courtney.  I’m sure I had a lot of frustration in my voice.  I picked up Courtney and removed her from the situation.  Over and over.  I said “no” at least 35 times.  She was hitting the dog and I had to grab her hands.  It may have been easier had she been older and I could have put her in a time out.  Maybe not.  There was all that, “We don’t hit.” “We don’t play in the dogs bowl.” “We don’t drop our food on the floor.”  Lots of “we don’t” and while she gets it, she doesn’t get that my buttons were being pushed and I’m Running. Out. Of. Buttons.

She just kept pushing.  And pushing.

She kicked the dog.  Two separate times.  I am so very, very, very afraid that she’s going to kick or hit the dog and the dog will have had enough.  His buttons will all have been pushed too.  I grabbed her.  I got in her face.  “We DON’T kick the dog.”  She laughed.  (Unfortunately for me, often times she laughs, and then I laugh.  Great authoritative figure I turned out to be.)

I get that she’s in pain.  I get that she’s over tired.  I get that she’s not happy.  I get that she’s only 14 months.  I get that she’s a toddler.  I understand all that.  I’m the adult here.  I understand.  Really.  I just didn’t handle myself well.  Buttons.

I’m going to have to learn.  There will be lessons in this for me.  I just need to be a fast learner.