The Terrible Three's...

The day starts with whining, and it ends with whining, and somewhere in the middle I send Dustin a text that says, "Started rough. The fussy land of lara. All is well now. I threw her out w/ the garbage."

Someone tell me what to do. I've tried to reason, I've tried punishing, I've tried a reward system, I've taken things away, I've sent her to her bed. I cannot, for the life of me, get this girl to stop being my Fussy Pants. I try to keep her busy, I try to play and laugh, I sit with her and pray, we watch a movie. With a fox. In a box. In the dark. On a train. In the rain. With a mouse. In a house. We've tried talking about our feelings-expressing things in words, to better help me ascertain if she is fussy because she is bored, neglected, or just has to poop.

I feel very frazzled. I've dealt with this bad attitude every day all day for the last week and a half, and as I type, Lara is crying in her bed at 9:57pm.

My neurosis is driving me to the end of my rope, and so much of my mental capacity is taken up with trying to understand the complexities of a three year old's mind that I've not been able to blog, do photography, read, or even follow a recipe to cook supper. If I even have a chance to do that uninterrupted in the first place.

It will work itself out. Every problem always does. But if you see her little legs dangling out of the trash can on Easter Sunday...you will know that I simply had enough of battling the superpowers of a three year old.