Let's Make a Deal??

My husband wants to know "what's wrong" with Little E.  I suppose because I'm the mother I should have all the answers.  After all, I spend the most time with her.  I carried her for nine months.  I should know the reasoning behind her tantrums.  I wish I did.  I would give anything for the magical solution while in the throws of one of those ear splitting moments when I feel my sanity is being stripped away from me. 

I was not home last night for bed time.  I was gone from approximately 8:15 to 9:30.  I came home to find Little E crying, working her way down the stairs.  My flustered husband informed me that he wanted to "trade her in," (jokingly, of course).  And I spent the next hour or so getting her and Miss A to sleep, which ended with the three of us having a sleepover on the floor.  Miss A went right to sleep.  Little E rambled for about 30 minutes more and I just might have fallen asleep before her.  I woke up around two o'clock and went to my own bed with a sore neck.

At approximately 4:30 am, we experienced maybe one of the greatest fits ever.  She came into our room upset so I let her come into our bed (which I regret I have done too much recently).  She kept insisting she wanting to "turn around" and neither of us could figure out what she wanted.  We tried.  Nothing we suggested worked. She got more and more frustrated.  Finally, though still screaming, she made her way to the bottom of the bed and insisted upon staying there.  She was like two centimeters from the edge of the bed, and was teetering with every flailing of the arms about to topple over onto the floor.  I kept trying to coax her onto a pillow next to me...she resisted more fervently until I was sure she was going to wake the neighbors.  Since we have a house guest, and poor little Miss A loses too much sleep because of Little E's banshee act, I offered to take her downstairs and rock her.  She was game, and even stopped crying.  I was relieved, thinking it was the end of the debauchery.  Then I innocently covered my legs with a blanket and she lost it.  She started kicking and screaming, so overly tired and so pissed off, I didn't know what to do.  I didn't see a way to quiet her, so I went out into the garage and we sat in the car.  At least then I knew it would be quiet for everyone else.  So there we sat in the drivers seat, staring at each other.  It was cold because obviously I couldn't start the thing.  She finally said to me, "I wanna go in the house mommy."  I told her we couldn't go in the house unless she would be quiet.  She agreed and morphed back into my little angel that snuggled up next to me the minute I placed her sweet head on the pillow.  Sigh.

So I laid there thinking about my Little E and trying to decipher this mystery that she is.  I thought of my husband's proposition to trade her in.  I pictured us on "Let's Make a Deal." (The old one...not the new one.)  My husband is dressed like a deck of cards and I am a bunch of grapes or some crazy shit like that,  and there we are standing there with Monty Hall.  Little E sits on the stage as we contemplate whether we will keep her or see what's behind the curtains.  And here's the thing about Little E...well there are lots of things actually.  Yes, she can throw the most mind-blowing tantrums you have ever witnessed.  She is short-fused and hot-tempered.  She is relentless when she wants something.  It's who she is.  But she also has the biggest, most contagious smile you have ever seen.  Her entire face lights up when she's happy.  She gives the sweetest, most tender hugs and kisses.  She laughs like everything she witnesses is the funniest thing she's ever seen.  She has more energy than that pink rabbit that sells batteries.  I swear she does.  And most of the time...she channels that energy into being a wildly entertaining happy-go-lucky, bouncing, running, jumping, spinning in circles and falling down, the world is her playground, kind of girl.  She is an amazing, wonderfully sweet girl.  She makes us laugh more than anyone we've ever known.  In fact, everyone that knows her, has this unexplained attraction to her.  People are drawn to her energy, and her ornery demeanor.  She is just "Little E."  Of course we'll keep her.  How could we not?

But then you know what happens next.  You still have to see what's behind the curtains.

Curtain number one opens up to reveal quadruplets. Healthy, beautiful, thriving, newborn quadruplets. Four times the diapers, four times the tears, four times the tantrums, four times the reward, I'm sure....but four times the work.
 
Curtain number two opens up to display a one-way trip to Malawi, where we will raise our family in an area where there is no access to clean water.  People are dying of AIDS all around us and we have none of the "necessities" we are accustomed to here.  We will struggle every day for life's most basic essentials and wonder how we will provide for our children. 

Curtain number three opens up to reveal a child that has been blind since birth. A child that will never see the love in his parent's eyes. One that will never know what he looks like, nor his family. A child that doesn't know colors or animals by sight. A child that is loved and cherished no less, but that faces challenges that we can't even imagine.

Of course we would never in a million years give up our Little E.  Though in the most trying moments we might actually entertain the notion for a split second, it's only a fleeting joke that gets us through the difficult times.  But if that were really an option, there are a lot more challenging situations than a two and a half year old who throws killer tantrums.  I mean, in the grand scheme of things...some frustrating moments and some sleepless nights are far less consuming than that which other parents go through.  I mean, it doesn't mean I won't still look for a little "me too" action on here.  Because let's face it, it makes us feel better as a parent to know that our children aren't completely unique in those little things that make us nuts.  I sincerely appreciate all the messages you send me to let me know I'm not the only one who might actually be the first person ever to say they're going to pull their hair out, and actually do it.  That's the beauty of this blog...and the beauty of parenthood.  We are all in this together.  Deal or no deal.