Speaking in Tongues

Let me preface this post by stating very clearly that I love my daughter. However, she has her moments when, despite all the love, she is tough to be around. Its a damn good thing she is cute.

See, she has turned three this month. And with it, all the bi-polar temperament that I thought usually hit at age two.
Example: she wakes up in the morning, singing. She sings in her crib, happily. She sings out “Mommy, I weady to wake up now!” (‘Cause, you never, ever, ever go into Maddie’s room without checking that she is actually ready to get out of bed.)
She is sunny, happy, giggly, smiley. She looks like this:

I mean, how freaking cute IS she? Adorable! Bouncing with delight!

But wait… in a matter of mere SECONDS, with no warning at all, she looks at you like this:

Uh oh.

And then, THIS:

There is no warning. There is no coherent reason for the switch. Typically, it is because her brother simply exists and got too close to her personal space.

The sobbing and wailing occur at such a pitch that my eardrums begin to bleed. And of course, she needs to be picked up. Now. There could be 500 of her closest personal friends in the room. Hell, Ariel and Sleeping Beauty could be standing next to her, but she NEEDS MOMMY.

(And while I thank the good Lord every day for her diminutive stature, my chiropractor both loves me, and lectures me for holding her so much. Talk about looking a gift preschooler in the mouth..)

And then, the speaking in tongues begins: “Mommmeeeeeeee….pick meeeee upppppp. EEEEE”. Dogs all around the neighborhood begin howling. Seriously. And we have a lot of dogs in our neighborhood. You see, she is speaking at a pitch that only dogs and other small creatures understand. All the small animals digging in a backyard head for the woods. Fast.

I do my best. I throw out all the mommyisms in my cache: “Honey, I can’t hear you when you talk like that”. “Mommy doesn’t speak “whine””. Until I finally reach the “Girlie, unless you talk in a normal voice, I’m not listening.”

Which, you know, of course, to a three year old means “repeat it again and again and again and again until Mommy’s head explodes”.

And, God bless her little heart, she is a talker. She talks and talks and talks. Which is great until the Whining begins. My favorite is “uhhhhhhhhhhhhh”.

Oh, and better yet? She whines, but doesn’t use words, and get this: she POINTS. And GRUNTS. “Uh UH UH”.

I know. I have a daughter, and this is going to go on for YEARS. Although, I’m assuming at some point the pointing and grunting will stop, and at least I won’t have to play 20 questions for relief. And yes, at some point, she’ll likely actually stop speaking to me. (Although this is hard to believe. I’m telling you, she is a talker.)

So, if you call my house, and I don’t answer, check the back yard.

The whining doesn’t echo so much out there, and its fun to watch all wildlife in sight scatter.


  1. the ruffhouse says

    So, has the lady at QB called you yet to see if we can use the picture of you (once again) holding her at the Valentine’s Dance? Too cute. You make me laugh every time.

  2. If the lady at QB is Renee Blue (ha ha) then yes…

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