It’s Her Party… and She’ll Wail if She Wants To

Last week brought the Epic Easter Virus (EEV) to over half of the people I know. It didn’t matter what state you lived in – chances were you had it.

Luckily EEV took the form of a mild stomach virus, where you felt like hurling, but didn’t actually empty the contents of your stomach every time you thought of food. It struck down my husband, Bobbi, then Lil Diva.

That’s right, the adults fell victim first – not the adorable disease carriers I gave birth to.

The Tackler somehow escaped (thank god) and I continued my inexplicable immunity to anything stomach virus related (someone has be left standing to clean up the puke and go to the grocery store when the nasty viruses hit).

Knock on wood.

But EEV had an unforeseen side effect in Lil Diva.  It flipped a switch, transforming her into a creature capable of sending even the most easy going and capable parent running for the nearest dark room with a lock.

The Wailing Whining Diva.

Similar to the Screaming Banshee from the Era of Teething, the Wailing Whining Diva needs little to no provocation to toss her head back, opening her mouth and voicing her discontent at near ear splitting levels.

Gone is the girl with smiles capable of melting the hearts of those who don’t like children. Gone are the happy giggles. Gone are the hilarious conversations with dolls and stuffed animals as she puts them in time out or down for a dozen consecutive naps.

The Wailing Whining Diva spouts demands, often in grunt or whine form, completely unintelligible to adult ears. Forget sentences or words. Failure to decipher and respond immediately results in increasing volume, as tears accompany the whine into more of an overly dramatic cry.

Independent mobility is eschewed for demands to be carried from point A to point B.

Altitude is of utmost importance.

If one succumbs to the classic “pick me up and hold me” gesture to silence the wails then dares sit down on the couch to rest one’s arms, the cries begin anew.

There are glimpses of the angel she once was.

Bits of moments, sometimes minutes spring from the gloom, reminding me of my old Lil Diva.*

Perhaps the most frustrating thing of all is preschool.

Because between drop-off and pick-up she returns to her delightful, charming self – the Wailing Whining Diva invisible to her adoring teachers.

Hiding.

Waiting.

For the walk to the car.

* * *

*UPDATE: No sooner did I hit post, and she freaked out about her new dress being untied, but became angrier when I tried to retie it. I brought out the camera to photograph it in case it does not survive school and she completely freaked. “You don’t take my picture right now!”

The new normal.

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About Kelly K @ Dances with Chaos

Kelly K has learned the five steps to surviving of motherhood: 1) Don't get mad. Grab your camera. 2) Take a photograph. 3) Blog about it. 4) Laugh. 5) Repeat. She shares these tales at Dances with Chaos in order to preserve what tiny amount of sanity remains. You can also find her on her sister blog, Writing with Chaos (www.writingwithchaos.com) sharing memoir and engaging in her true love: fiction writing. It's cheaper than therapy.
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19 Responses to It’s Her Party… and She’ll Wail if She Wants To

  1. Annie says:

    Sorry EEV hit your house! Princess had it too…in the form of pneumonia. 😦 Blah…
    Hopefully your little beastie is back to normal today!

  2. Kate says:

    Kelly – I can see myself in your shoes at the store with everyone else on the couch waiting for the next wave of sick to hit. This weekend, it was me that was out of commission. My first sinus infection his immediately following Easter and lasted until this past Sunday. Since it was my first, it took a while to know all the drug/natural remedies I required in order to function. Also, both of my children act out like Lil’ Diva rather frequently at home with me. Teachers and the outside world (minus grandparents) rarely see the full-out meltdowns like the one my daughter had today just before the school bus came. I’m praying with you for the return of Lil’ Diva’s preschool persona for you.

    • They do reserve the over-the-top meltdowns for us, don’t they?

      Ouch on the sinus infection – nothing quite like the feeling of an ice pick shoved into your sinuses. I hope you’re fully recovered now.

      • Kate says:

        They sure do. Love your sense of humor. I am nearly recovered. Didn’t try the ice pack remedy. I found antibiotics, cold/sinus tablets and hot showers to be the best treatments.

        • I turn to hot showers whenever the allergies skyrocket. Long showers.

          Especially when my husband is watching the kids.

          The gym’s steam room is also a godsend, because antihistamines do nothing for me.

          I firmly believe life without humor would be unlivable… especially as a parent.

  3. John says:

    It sounds like our divas are very very similar (we’ve taken to calling her DQ for Drama Queen). Leila will be incredibly sweet one moment . . . but as soon as there’s something she wants or sees that she can’t have . . . or even thinks that she can’t have . . . or is slighted in any way, she’ll scream.

    She’s gotten so good at it that she can tear up (she’ll actually poke herself in the eye sometimes, if her typical methods don’t work . . . but then those are pained tears and entirely different). What’s worst is that, when she’s like this, if she’s not in the mood to be consoled, she, simply, will not be consoled. This means that she’ll launch her body in a random direction and/or go “wet noodle” on you, so that she flings herself to the ground.

    Ain’t parenthood grand?

    • John – you’re right. DQ and Lil Diva are practically identical twins separated at birth. Can you imagine the drama if we got them together? I think they’d be awe of each other and taking notes.

      You’re right about the consoling – sometimes there is nothing you can do.

      Though in desperation (post nap time funk that occurs), a quick episode of Little Einstein or Chuggington works wonders.

  4. Sigh. Been there, done that . . . except I was praying to the porcelain God too.

  5. Update to the update: Her mood lasted until we got to her preschool. The Tackler tried to tell her teachers “She’s been really whiny all morning” and they stared in disbelief.

    Example of exchange with Lil Diva:

    “I need to put your socks on or you can’t go to school.” (She tries to kick me. I carry her barefoot to carseat. I attempt to put her socks on again, she kicks her feet.)

    “OK, but you can’t go to school without socks and shoes.” (I attempt to close car door, she screams louder, demanding I put on her socks, even though I’d just tried that 5 seconds prior. This time she lets me put on her socks and shoes.)

    Perhaps Contrary Queen would be a good new nickname for her.

  6. ~C3 says:

    I think your Little Diva and my Squishy have to be related somehow. Or are sharing thoughts about how to torment us mommas telepathically. As much as I don’t want him to grow up too quickly, I can’t wait until he’s out of this stage. I’m really hoping it doesn’t last until he’s 18.

    • How old is Squishy?

      I’m pretty sure children do possess a certain degree of telepathy – for torturing purposes.

      I’m told (by those who have been there) it never ends, it just morphs into something different.

      As long as there is no whining…

  7. Poor baby – both you and her! I hope for all of your sakes this phase passes quickly.

  8. Those last photos are too much. I can HEAR her!

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