July 3, 2002
I want to sell my kids.
My neighbor offered to take them off my hands, if I paid her, but we're broke, so that's out. I offered to throw in all their toys and clothes for free, clarifying that she could get several hundred dollars on ebay for them, but again, she expected cash to take them.
Genny's two and a drug addict. I realize she's a Monkeybaby, at the very least, but after this weekend, I think she's got a brick of crack hidden in an empty wipe box in her room under her toddler bed. Mike and I tried to sleep Sunday afternoon because we were exhausted after hours of chasing her all over the house and I ended up getting up and putting her back (up and) down for an hour and a half while Mike slept. After which, Mike finally got up and dealt with her, but then I was too tired to sleep if that makes any sense at all.
I know she's a toddler and that that's just the age, but Russell wasn't like this. If you told Russell no, he stopped and maybe he cried, but he stopped. You tell Genny no, she defiantly says,"NO!" and runs away with her prizes. If I finally get to where I'm threatening her with spanks, she will on a half-time basis stop doing whatever she's doing. The other half of the time, she'll go ahead and light that stick of dynamite she's located and attempt to blow up the house.
And then when she goes to light that match, I have to follow through and give her a pat on her diaper. She whines and fusses, even though we both know it doesn't hurt. But she hates it, so it's effective. Threatening sucks though and I have been trying everything else. I take stuff away. I've got piles of things that are unstably just out of her reach. I've got so much stuff tossed behind my monitor that I'm pretty sure it poses some kind of fire hazard. I have sat on the floor holding her on time out, petting her hair and telling her she can't pull the silverware, dishes, and glasses off the table while brother is setting it. I have spanked her. I have yelled. I have tried distracting, but she totally doesn't fall for that. I think that that ability to remember what she was after 5 minutes ago, when I've nearly forgotten myself, is what makes me think she's probably not ADHD.
The problem is that she is into everything and I'm worried about keeping her safe. I want to give her safe places to explore, but just when you think you've got everything put up, she finds something she can rub together that will indeed light her crack pipe and blow up her meth lab.
She scares me half to death between her finding Russell's ritalin and pulling the dresser on herself, for a starts. I constantly feel like I'm chasing after her to protect her from being hurt. By far, the scariest thing in the world is silence. When either Mike or I realize it's quiet, we both panic and look at each other and ask, "Where's Genny?" quickly followed by, "Genny, where are you?" to which she usually responds,"Air Are OOO?"
Whereupon we start looking for our favorite crack-smokin' baby and get into her stash of trouble. We spend our meals telling Russell to "Be quiet and EAT!" and telling Genny,"Sit down and EAT!" Russell I expect to have to do that because by dinner time his meds have worn off a lot and he's back to his ADHD pain in the butt self. Genny, however, apparently in ever other venue in her life is a chow hound. However, make her mac and cheese at our house and she turns up her cute little nose and splatters the floor with it.
To her dismay, when she doesn't sit down, I simply say,"Oh, you must be done and not want any dessert" and then I take away her plate and put it in her sink. You'd think it'd get through, but the next night is always the same. I think some of the issue that Mike is a softy and assumes that our toddler will die of starvation if we don't allow her to graze at will, but I've had it with succumbing to the ever-changing will of our resident crack addict.
She has to eat in the kitchen when the rest of us do. Period. It's the only place with linoleum and I can clean linoleum.
I'm exhausted and wistful for the days of yore, where a warm fresh boob stuffed in her mouth would settle her down in a heartbeat and peace would reign supreme. I wonder if there are drug rehab programs for toddlers or rest homes for their exhausted parents.
Mostly, I keep wondering how normal this is. It's hard to gauge after Russell. I keep asking myself...is she ADHD,too? Is the normal state of a toddler equivalent to smoking crack? Short of benadryl and a sledgehammer, how do I keep this little precious Monkeybaby safe?
|