high maintenance

Children are high maintenance.  Or at least, mine are.

Example:  As what I thought would be a special treat, I took Rachel to see "Beauty and the Beast" in 3D at the theater today.  Here I thought she'd be thrilled.  And she was, until halfway through the movie, when she started complaining that
a) she was hungry,
b) she was tired, and
c) she wanted to play with her leap pad

She said she could finish watching the movie at home.

AHHHHHH!!!  I was really annoyed....and told her we had paid money to see the movie in 3D and we were going to stay until it was over, and she had to wait until we got home to have something to eat.  We had already bought popcorn, so I wasn't about to go spend another small fortune to get her anything else to eat. 

When we got home I told her dad what she had said.  He told her that he didn't care if she was hungry or tired, that she needs to learn not to say those things.  (How do you teach tact to a five year old, anyway?)  It'll be a long time before we take her to the movies again.  Ugh.

And then there's this child....

This one is the epitome of high maintenance right now.

Climbing, getting into things, constantly wanting to eat, doing things she knows she shouldn't with a grin on her face....  I don't remember Rachel ever being this much of a handful.  I count the minutes until naptime and bedtime, just because she'll be contained in her crib and can't bother anything.  Oh, I forgot to mention that last week she actually climbed out of her playpen.  She piled two toys on top of each other, stepped up on them, and somehow got over the top.  She landed flat on her back on the floor with a thud, screaming (I was drying my hair, and over the hairdryer noise I heard the thud, turned the hairdryer off to investigate, and then heard the screaming).  She was fine, just scared, and hasn't tried it since (I also took the big toys out of the playpen so she can't pile them to try it again). 

A handful.

But ohhhhhhhhh.....how I love them.  Last night Rebecca woke up in the middle of the night, screaming.  If she wakes up, she usually fusses a little and goes back to sleep.  But this was big crying.  I don't know if it was a bad dream or what, but she was obviously upset.  I went in, scooped her up, and she put her head on my shoulder, where she was quiet and calm.  It was so sweet.  As I got back in bed a few minutes later, I realized that I'd gladly put up with the daily frustrations for those moments of sweetness. 

And last night Rachel and I were baking cookies together, and we were joking about something.  "Mommy, you're so funny," she told me.  Or she'll sit on my lap in the mornings and say, "Mommy, I just love you so much!"  They are both so sweet, giving me hugs, kisses, and grins.  It makes the other parts worth it.  I just wish the balance was a little more even--equal parts sweetness and frustration!  Right now it seems like the frustration is outweighing the sweetness.  But I'll keep them.  I know there will be days where the sweetness wins out.