Poor behavior

I've always subscribed to Woodrow Call's philosophy on the subject: "I hate poor behavior in a man", he said. "I won't tolerate it."

The baby has been bad all weekend and it's only Saturday afternoon. We started off fine yesterday, and the nice county lady met us all at the house and observed us, interviewed S alone, and then interviewed the baby alone. After she left and S had to go back to work, I took the baby down the street to Tito J's library. While in the car, I asked her what did she and Ms. E talked about. The baby said, and I quote verbatim: "Daddy good, Dita good, my mommy bad, and my Curtis bad." I was very surprised. I wondered later to S if indeed he believes that's really what the baby said. He said he's sure she did say that.

I must interject here for anyone who's even wondering, do I or S coach the baby to say these things? Absolutely not, and here's my un-impeachable explanation for not doing so. While growing up myself, my father was absentee and exemplified poor behavior and uninterested parenting. However, in spite of this I don't recall my mother ever saying negative word one about him. She, and other wise parents, know that that is not their place to do so, and that children almost always figure out what's going on eventually, which, of course, I did. So I refuse to do this as well to the baby b/c my other fear is that when you speak negatively of a child's biological parent, no matter how worthless and trashy they are, you risk harming the child's self-esteem. Like I said, the baby will know one day what an unfit BM (biological mother/bowel movement, either one) she had the misfortune to be associated with. This I know in my heart of hearts. The baby is the one who, on her own, called the BM "my other mom." The baby is the one who calls the BM "my mean mom." Now, I will say that I don't discourage this, and maybe that's bad of me to do, but as far as I'm concerned, better the baby figure it out sooner than later. Because she will absolutely figure it out, just like I did, just like all children eventually do.

Anyway, so we went to the library and had a good time as always. I read The Secret Garden to her twice, and we visited with Tito J. Then we went home and she helped me make enchiladas for dinner--she sprinkled the cheese and spooned in the black olives. But then she started to be mischievous. She took a rock that I had and didn't put it back when/where I told her to after I'd decided she was done playing with it. She used her scissors to cut up a kleenex, and put the shredded pieces IN MY PURSE (I didn't find this out until later). She didn't eat her food and kept eating chips and queso and I had to take the chips away from her. She cried like a crybaby when she burped and subsequently I made a game of trying to keep her face away from mine ("Stinky burpy!!!") and I drew a picture of her burping. Uh, she had been laughing not milliseconds before that! Schizo! She went to pee and didn't wipe and I made her pull her pants down and wipe before being allowed to wash her hands and leave the bathroom. Then S got home and he ticked me off by coddling her and cuddling her. Still, he does follow my orders when I tell him to tell her to do something. I made her some cereal to eat instead of the enchiladas and when she was finished, I told her that she knows where the cereal bowl goes (sink). She took the bowl to the kitchen, then she and S went upstairs to watch Batman. Before they did I told S he needed to tell her to apologize to me for being bad and putting trash in my purse, and she got quiet and shy and did. But even though I was obviously upset with her, she kept asking me to come with them and telling S she wanted me to come with them, but he knew by that time I needed my time alone! She insisted on S carrying her up the stairs (I hate it when she wants to be carried all the time like some kind of invalid child). I went to the kitchen and saw her cereal bowl ON THE COUNTER. Ooooh! I yelled up the stairs for her to get downstairs immediately. Instead S came down and was going to put her cereal bowl away in the sink for her, but I said no way, tell her to get her butt down there. He said, "I don't want to have to carry her back upstairs!" Oooooh again! I said, "THEN DON'T!!!" She came down and I made her put her bowl away. Good lord!

This a.m. I asked S why he thought she might be acting out all of a sudden when usually she is so good. He said that she must have had a traumatic day, talking to the county lady and all. Oh please, I said, that wasn't traumatic at all, and she was in daycare all day long before that! I hypothesized that maybe she is starting to wonder if soon she indeed is coming to live with us from now on, and wants to test us and push us and see how much more "fun" it might be to live with us. I said, "If that's what she thinks, she is sorely mistaken!"

So today at lunch I called my mom to see what they wanted me to bring them for lunch. My mom said the baby had made her count to 3 three different times. Oh, that makes me so mad, especially after S and I told the baby this a.m. she had to be good! So I got her a Happy Meal, and one for my mom, which means 2 toys and when I got over there I confiscated both toys right in front of her as punishment. We had a good lunch, and had some fun, but she did not get her toys. I also told S on her and he spoke to her on the phone about being good.

S said last night that he was planning on taking her to work with him on Sunday. Silently, I protested and wondered if I could get him to change his mind, but now, (and I mean this as lovingly as possible) good riddance! Let him deal with his daughter tomorrow. Mama needs a break.