Near-Constant Screaming

"When in doubt or danger, run in circles, scream and shout. " -Laurence J. Peter

You know, most of the time on my blog, I get to reflect on these shining moments of wonder I have with Maeve.  I like to stick to the positive, make sure I'm getting down all the funny and sweet moments I want to remember.

But also, I sometimes have to tell it like it is, all of it.  And the new factor in our lives, irradiating from our little sweetheart, appears to be near-constant screaming.  Any time the slightest thing doesn't go her way, and that includes whatever plans she had in her imagination that she didn't tell me about, and her immediate reaction is to scream, as loudly as she can.

We don't go to restaurants anymore.

Sometimes the screaming is accompanied by hysterical crying, see naptime.  But mostly it's just a shriek because she knows I hate it, and because she has forgotten, yet again, to use her words to tell me what's wrong.  So when I'm on top of my game, I do two things.  I tell her that screaming is not okay, that it hurts my ears, and it communicates nothing.  I remind her to use her words, and then I walk away.

I come back when it's quiet, and ask again what it is she needs.  Usually, she has dropped a cookie crumb, or can't find a toy.  But it can be ridiculously hard to be a grownup and not just scream right back at her some days.  And some days, there's nothing for it but to throw up my hands, wait for the screaming to stop, then place the screaming child in her bed in a dark room and hope for naptime to cure all ills.

Yesterday, as I tried to get her to take a nap, while she screamed bloody murder at me, she screamed, "MOM FIX MY THROAAAAAT".  I can almost laugh at it now.  I sternly told her that only she could fix her throat, that the screaming was hurting it, and if she stopped screaming, it would stop hurting.  But she is such a typical toddler some days.  I AM DOING SOMETHING WHICH IS MAKING EVERYONE'S LIFE DIFFICULT AND I WANT YOU TO FIX IT, LADY. That's my girl. 

So, back to the old mantra: It's only a phase.  This, too, shall pass.  I know, someday she'll be a surly teenager and I'll be wishing she was actually communicating with me, however loudly and inappropriately.  But for now, I'm just taking an extra Aleve for the headache that happens every day by 3 pm, and waiting it out.  She has to stop, eventually.