Why I Watch "Toddlers and Tiaras"

With the updates to the house almost complete, Peanut due to arrive any nanosecond, and temperatures reaching the high 80s (we don’t have central AC, but I’m sure you guessed that), tensions have been running high in the C household.  Apparently, my husband and I aren’t the only ones coping with copious amounts of stress.  A few days ago, Minnow asked me to get her coloring books and crayons so she could color at the kitchen table.  I obliged, and as she sat coloring I scrubbed some dishes in the sink.  A few minutes later I turned around to find her methodically peeling the wrappers off each crayon. 

“Minnow, why are you doing that?” I inquired.

“Because it helps me feel better.”

Interesting.  When I’m stressed I usually make a list or go for a long run, but, you know, different strokes for different folks.

I mean, can you blame the kid for feeling a little frazzled lately?  According to Baby Center, toddler stress is real, and can be brought on by the following:

“…having too many planned activities, the lack of a stable routine, feeling sick, a move, a separation from a beloved caregiver, or the arrival of a new sibling.”

In the last three months Minnow has been through two moves; has gone from living with her beloved grandparents and favorite dog, Harry, to spending the majority of her days with just me; and is anticipating a new baby to disrupt the only-child lifestyle she has enjoyed since birth.

Rationally, I understand what’s going on but, emotionally, my stressed-out toddler is making me feel like I am failing miserably at motherhood. Her usually cheerful and cooperative personality has been replaced by someone who, in her own words, “[Doesn’t] want to do ANYTHING!.”  Our mornings usually start out well, but unravel after she has finished her breakfast.  For example, on Tuesday I wanted to bathe Minnow before her swimming lesson at noon.  First she screamed because she didn’t want to get into the tub.  Then she screamed because she didn’t want to get out of the tub.  She refused to use the potty, then she refused to put on her swim diaper.  She fought me with feet and fists as I struggled to get her into her car seat, and sobbed during the five-minute drive to the pool, “But I don’t want to go to swim lessons!  I don’t want to do ANYTHING!”

Then when she got to the pool, she said, “Mommy, can me pick out my own goggles?  I want the pink ones!”

Every day has been like this since we moved into the new house.  It’s like living with someone who suffers from unmedicated bi-polar disorder, which I guess most toddlers do, in a way.  My days are spent dreaming up ways to keep Minnow happy, and those ways usually include too many Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies and too much time spent watching “Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood" on the iPad.  At times like these, when I’m feeling like just about the most unqualified mother in America, only one thing will lift my spirits:

“Toddlers and Tiaras.”

Confession: There are few things I enjoy more after putting Minnow to bed than kicking back on the couch with a bowl of Edy's Slow Churned ice cream (or a Shake Shack shake, if my husband is so inclined) and watching two or three episodes of this TLC gem.  The mothers of “Toddlers and Tiaras” help me realize that even on our most out-of–sorts days, I could be making far more questionable decisions as a parent.  After all, I can honestly say that I have never:

- Spray-tanned my toddler;

- Fed my toddler Pixie Sticks, Red Bull, or something called “Tinker Tea,” which is, evidently, a concoction comprised of Pixie Sticks, lemonade, and soda (soda!);

- Called another person’s toddler “ugly;”

- Suggested to my toddler that “stripper” is an acceptable career choice, as long as she does it “fabulously;”

- Criticized my toddler for not having (or doing- I don’t know what the correct terminology is here) “pretty feet;”

- Allowed my toddler to ride in an ATV, with or without a helmet;

- Put false eyelashes on my toddler’s eyes, false teeth in my toddler’s mouth, or makeup on my toddler’s face (Although I have, on occasion, painted her toenails the same Essie color as my pedicure, so we could match);

- Told my toddler, in either a positive or negative way, that she looks like a “prosti-tot;”

- Allowed my toddler’s lunch to be spoonfuls of mayonnaise (mayonnaise!) straight out of the jar;

- Threatened to “kick the shit” out of another parent in front of my toddler (or ever!);

I don’t mean to criticize other people’s parenting styles (cough, cough); after all, being a parent is, by far, the most challenging thing I’ve ever done, and I went to law school.  I don't doubt that the parents on "Toddlers and Tiaras" genuinely love their children, even if they have a funny way of showing it.  I’m just saying that the next time Minnow wants to lament her misfortune because I insist on washing her hair or giving her something other than carbs for a snack, she might do well to think about little Mackenzie or Brooklyn, who certainly have more stress in their lives than she does.

Catharsis

After the movers drop the last box in our new home (and I do mean "drop;" several Crate & Barrel wine glasses are sacrificed in the move), I walk from room to room, surveying the job ahead.  It is overwhelming.  My in-laws have agreed to watch Minnow until 8 p.m. that evening, and I quickly realize that we will not be finished unpacking by the end of the day, or even the end of the weekend, as I had naively hoped.

I can't decide which I find more loathsome: Packing or unpacking.  Wrapping everything we own in multiple layers of bubble wrap and entrusting their fate to the storage gods is draining- no doubt about it- but I am having a difficult time unpacking because I don't yet know where anything goes.  We went from too little space to too much space, it seems.  This box of cleaning supplies could go in the linen closet, but it would be just as at home it in the laundry room.  Should that framed photograph of the Natural History Museum hang in the living room, or the den?  This vase would look equally elegant in the dining room or in the foyer... Also, there are some rooms in which we cannot unpack at all because the painters- God love them- are still painting.  They're going on four weeks now.

"I don't know where to begin," I say to my husband as I pry open boxes and then push them aside.

"Start in one room," he suggests.  "Do as much as you can in there, and move on to the next."

But in which room should I start?  The nursery is a logical first step, because I want to ensure that Peanut's room is ready, should she decide to move in early.  Then again, maybe I should start in the kitchen, the hearth of the home.  But the idea of spending an afternoon filling old, decrepit cabinets with my gleaming stainless steel cookware saddens me, so I decide to seek solace in the most cheerful corner of the house: My master bedroom closet.

In a home this old, it is rare to find one spacious closet in the master bedroom; it is absolutely urban legend to find two.  I feel like my husband and I hit the Power Ball with our equally-sized His and Hers closets.  Having a place to hang my clothes in the bedroom is certainly an upgrade from our first New York City apartment, where my closet was in the living room.  Here, we kept the antique bronze doorknobs- an homage to the former owners- and added fluorescent lights to each closet and the double light switch outside.

Obviously, a new closet calls for new hangers.  A few days before the move Minnow and I find boxes of these fun hot pink hangers, which would perk up any closet, from Bed Bath and Beyond.  They are slim and space-saving, which is important because  I am using them to hang my silk blouse collection, which is sizable.

Like a hoarder, I am big on saving shoe boxes.  I use them to store my most precious shoes, including a few pairs from the J.Crew collection.  Luckily, this closet has adequate shelf space to hold numerous boxed shoes, as well as a laundry basket packed with handbags.

I've had the shoe rack below since my freshman year of college.  It couldn't have cost more than $10 at Bed Bath and Beyond, yet it has proven to be one of the most useful closet organizers.  I've removed the top rack so that my clothes have more room to hang.  To maximize the remaining space, I stack shoes one on top of the other and plan to switch them out seasonally.  Hello, espadrilles!

Because we don't yet have master bedroom furniture, I am temporarily storing folded items in these stackable hot pink cubes from Ikea.  This cube contains all my running gear, which is washed and ready for my first post-partum run in about eight weeks.

Focusing first on the master bedroom closet is cathartic for me.  After my wardrobe is organized, balance is restored to the universe and I feel energized to tackle the rest of unpacking- room by room and box by box.

Of course, we all deal with stress in different ways.  While I am busy getting reacquainted with the clothes that have spent two months hanging in a cedar closet in my in-laws' attic, my husband works on this:

Aside from ample closet space, another benefit to owning a home is having a little land on which to plant a vegetable garden.  The tall plants are Beefsteak and Sweet 100 tomatoes- perfect for summer!

Never again will I need to buy parsley at the grocery store, thanks to my husband's green thumb.

Thyme and rosemary: Two of our most frequently-used cooking herbs.

I've got big plans of preparing jars and jars of fresh basil pesto in my ugly blue kitchen...

...which is probably the room I should work on next.