"I'm feeling annoyance and frustration, but also tolerance." "I feel validated by that."

Friday was rough. I spent most of the day battling Abbie, trying to stop her from engaging in bad or harmful behaviors, or, as she will likely explain to her therapist in a few years (assuming she learns to talk), force her to do what I wanted her to do. The days are fast disappearing where Abbie, without an idea in her head, will go along with whatever I want to do, much like Paris Hilton listening to an off-camera producer on her reality show. Now that she realizes how exciting interacting with the world can be, an activity will lodge itself in her brain making her insistent that she completes that activity. When she can’t get what she wants, she whines. I’m sure this behavior will only increase as she ages and develops a more sophisticated idea of what she wants, progressing from a rock, to a new toy, to a trip to the zoo, to a new car, to parents who have a clue.

Yesterday’s fun started early, as in 1:30am. She woke up screaming, which is very unusual for her. She typically sleeps the whole night through without a peep, conserving her energy for more effective whining during the day. Last night, however, she woke up and was not happy about it. She might have just woken up in the middle of the night sleepy and was expressing her displeasure about the situation. She might have had a nightmare, though I don’t know what could scare a 15-month-old besides the thought of being cared for by a neighbor. She might have wanted some overnight attention, in which case I played right into her hands by rushing into her room to sing her back to sleep.

She fell asleep again fairly quickly, which was good because we had a full morning of rummaging ahead of us. At least I had a full day of rummaging; she had a full day of tromping around strangers’ properties. She squirms too much for any man-made device to hold her while I find the onesies with the fewest holes, so I let her wander. Usually the biggest problem with this strategy is keeping her from doing a little rummaging herself, pulling things out of boxes, chewing on them, haggling with the proprietor over the price. I don’t worry about it too much because I figure if these people are selling toddler clothes, they understand my situation. On this day I ran into an additional problem of people with very steep driveways, the kind where drivers need to hit them going about 20 mph to make it up the incline, and if there’s snow or ice on the ground they just give up and park on the street. At one such slanty-drivewayed house, I let her go, and five seconds later was running after her for fear that if she stopped, she’d tumble face-first onto the pavement, or worse, if she didn’t try stopping she’d run at super-toddler speeds right into the streets. The owners asked if she’d be happy sitting with them while I looked, as if Abbie were ever happy sitting still. That home had a limited baby clothes selection meaning I only had to return Abbie to the sale once before following her out the driveway and into the car, but another house with a heavily slanted driveway had name brand remains of three boys at rock bottom prices. The owner, perhaps indulging her fantasy of having a child who doesn’t want to be a bulldozer upon growing up, kept her entertained while I perused, even giving her a container set to abuse until I scavenged through everything with the name “Carter.” I didn’t buy that container set, but I didn’t feel too guilty since I did free up enough space in her basement to store a food dehydrator and a Gazelle.

Speaking of frustrating, Abbie is awake from her nap, and I have a ton of stuff to do, so I’ll finish reliving this frustrating day tomorrow.