Yogurt in My Hair

Friday. Oh that blessed day that finally rolls around to bring us the beautiful weekend! Well, this Friday not only marks the end of my week but also the beginning of my two week vaca. Two weeks of time at home. Two weeks of time to spend reading and writing as much as I want! Two weeks to wear cute clothes because I won't be subjected to slobber and yogurt all over me.

Baby, as cute and great as she usually is, has decided to be an eating terror. I sit her down nicely in her highchair, place a bib around her neck and present her the delicious food I have prepared. What does she do? Well, she used to eat it. As of late, it is one of two things--she either takes the perfect slice of banana and throws it on the ground or sticks her spoon in the yogurt, pulls it out and flings it around in circles. Covering herself, the walls, her chair and me in white goop.

I used to gently say, "No, that is not appropriate behavior for a young woman. Please stop." Which turned into, "No, that is naughty. Please stop." Which has now become, "NO NO NO. Don't do that! Naughty, naughty, naughty. Pick it up right now and throw it in the trash can. Time out. Time out."

Needless to say. I snapped.
Needless to say more. She still doesn't listen.

Various individuals have told me that when I make an attempt at assertiveness, I really just sound like a whiny preteen who didn't get her way. I don't know what it is, perhaps it is my overall timid demeanor mixed with a need to be in control that has led to an inability to make people listen. My dog doesn't even listen to me.

I know where I am going wrong. Problem is, I can't seem to figure out how to go right.

Sometimes I try the other approach, nonchalant and free-spirited. Then I just get trampled on. Thus, I decrease my voice a little, make a serious face and speak assertively. Obviously I am missing something, because I usually just get a sly grin back. Thus the snapping and my temper tantrum.

And I wonder why Baby whines and throws herself on the ground when she doesn't get her way. We want to be understood. We want people to give us what we ask for. But like I tell Baby, "you aren't going to get anything by talking to me that way." Big fat finger in my face.

To conclude, I am going to take these two weeks to re-compress. To hope that Baby's Mamma fixes her bad eating habits. And to remind myself that even if I get yogurt in my hair, throwing a fit is not going to solve my problems. If you can't beat em', join em'. Then clean up afterwards.