Chimpanzee/Kangaroo

I hate to admit this and yet I must face the facts. My 21 month old daughter has me (the mother!) very well trained. I feel like her pet animal that she has carefully and painstakingly groomed and trained over months of deliberate, yet secretive work. How in the world did this happen? Boy is she good! I am supposed to be the one doing the training, not her. She’s so sneaky…

I didn’t even realize this fact until just the other day. I was explaining to my neighbor what my daughter does and it hit me like a lightning bolt, she has me trained. She’s managed to teach me how to hold her for about 80% of the time she’s up and awake.

I lovingly (ok, sometimes after a long day not so lovingly) call her my little monkey because she literally clings to me like a monkey, a cute little baby chimpanzee. You can’t help but love one even if it destroys the house and throws poo at you. No, my daughter doesn’t engage in this behavior, thank God. But she clings! It’s surprising the amount of strength these little ones possess. Maybe she’s closer related to a baby kangaroo, always tucked safely and securely away in her mother’s pouch. If only I actually had a pouch to tuck her into so I could be hands free! (As a side note, tried the sling, she hates it).

My daughter, the chimpanzee/kangaroo, wants to be held by none other than her precious mama all the live-long day. I love her, I love her dearly, but man can she be exhausting. It’s to the point now where I almost feel naked if she’s not in my arms (ok, slight exaggeration). But you get the point, she’s in my arms way more often than not.

Here’s the part where she has me trained: if I dare to allow her dainty toes to touch the floor (heaven forbid!) she screams. And screams and screams and screams. Oh, and then just in case I didn’t quite get the message, she screams and screams again. If I fail to respond to this rational and polite request she will either 1. stomp her feet in place, crying and carrying on, 2. wrap her arms and one leg around my leg and latch on with a death grip, or 3. run over to the carpet and dramatically through herself down in complete and utter despair. Ay currumba! God save the poor lass. Woe to her and her pitiful state. If, after one of these episodes fails to get my attention, she will take turns and try each of them out, alternately.

She is my third child. I have experienced tantrums, belligerence and noncompliance many times before. This is nothing new. I’m a pro at ignoring, re-directing or disciplining unwanted behavior. I even wrote a book that touches on the subject. However, this particular issue is difficult. Re-directing, forget it, doesn’t work at all with this one. Ignoring, well I have, unfortunately to no avail. She’ll keep going. Disciplining, yes, she’s now at the age where she understands she is being naughty. I’ll have to explore this option further and see if it helps. I haven’t technically disciplined her yet because here’s the main dilemma. This is how I’m the trained mama: After removing her vice grip from my body and succeeding in setting her down, before I know it, she’s right back in my dang arms again! She’s like a reverse escape artist! She gets back in without me even realizing it. I tell ya, the girl has some skills. So many times I’ve been holding her and only after a few minutes realize that she’s right back up here after I set her down and said no more, mama needs a break. What the heck?

I think what happens is that in the madness of the moment I forget what’s going on and just pick her up again automatically, without consciously being aware of my actions. I usually go through my day at a hectic pace, constantly juggling all the differing directions I’m being pulled in. Within the chaos that is my brain I notice that there is a crying child at my feet and stoop to pick her up and soothe her. And viola! She’s back in my arms. Trained mama.

Of course the kicker is that all of the above scenario is completely null and void if she decides she’d like to get down and do something else on her own, such as ride her bike or play with the other kids. If this should be the case, then I better back off or suffer the wrath because she can do it by herself mama, thank you very much. Every so often Miss Independent decides to make an appearance and I get a break, well at least my arms do, the rest of me has to watch her like a hawk and make sure she doesn’t run down the street in the middle of the road chasing after her long gone brothers (yes, she’s done this), or climb on top of the freezer in the garage in order to reach the button that opens and closes the garage door (she’s done this as well, very nearly missing a nasty fall to the floor, got there just in time!) or rummage through the pantry in search of more fruit snacks (she would be one giant fruit snack if I let her eat all she wanted).

I know this is a phase. I know she’ll grow out of it. I know I’ll miss holding her later on down the road. I try to remind myself of this and manage without too much complaint, yet when you’re in the midst of hardship it can be a challenge to take such an objective stance, to remember this is temporary and in the grand scheme of things not even a big deal. In the meantime I’ll do my best to adequately care for my little chimpanzee/kangaroo.

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