It's that time again. The terrible threes. Kind of. Jordis will be three in July. It starts in the twos and sometimes even the end of the ones, but let's get real here. The threes are the height of the terribleness. When I wrote Totally Desperate Mom Lydia was three. I was not planning on writing a chapter on The Terrible Threes, but there was just so much inspiration. I had to write it down. The irony is I love three year olds. They are so darn classic. And when they're in a good mood (i.e. getting what they want) they are edible. So sweet. So cute. So fun. Such great things come out of their mouths - unless it is puke, like was the case with Jordis this week. But watch out if you ask them to use the potty and they don't feel like it. Or be cursed if you put their shoes on when THEY WANTED TO DO IT! Take a hike if you try to talk to them or ask them questions when they are in a funk.
Here is an excerpt from Totally Desperate Mom. It is the closing for the Terrible Threes chapter. Hope it gives you a little encouragement if you too are dealing with a moody pregnant lady, I mean, a two or three-year-old. Almost the same thing, right?
Making Hard Days Worth It
Yesterday was not a “beautiful day in the motherhood.” It ended with my husband going in the room to have a talk with Elijah about his poor attitude and rebellious behavior that day. I sat at the top of the stairs and put my head in my hands in frustration, exhaustion, and sadness.
Lydia came over to me in her kung fu silk pajamas “of the very best quality,” as my mom was told when she bought them for Lydia in China. They’re the same ones that all the buttons fell off of the moment Lydia breathed on them. So with her classic silky shirt hanging wide open, Lydia approached me and rubbed my shoulder ever so gently. “Mommy, what’s wrong? Why are you sad?” She stroked my hair and hugged me.
That moment made my “hard” day all worth it. All the whining, all the disobedience, all the discipline, the multiple pee “accidents,” the cat throw-up in the hall, Jordis’s poop in the bathtub, the marker on the wall—it was all worth it. I guess the threes aren’t so terrible after all. I’d like to end this chapter with a prayer said by Elijah when he was three years old. It could very well have been said by a Totally Desperate Mom of a three-year-old.
Dear God, Thank You for our friends. Thank You for everything we do that’s right and everything we do that’s wrong. And God, please help us. Amen.
What say you? Have you had a harder time with the twos or the threes? 
Welcome friends, family, randoms, lurkers, blog addicts, fellow desperate moms, and Bono. This blog consists of mostly funny stuff that will make you feel better about yourself. Lots of mom comedy, non-Kodak moments, and un-fashion tips. On Wednesdays I write about my life as a former childhood actress complete with posts about how the entertainment business works, actors I met (or stalked), people and animals I worked with, my Hollywood friends, and photos of former teen heartthrobs. And if that’s not enough to draw you in to follow me . . . I have done some amazing giveaways. A rubber chicken, millions of doll hairs, and unlimited supplies of air. Come join the party.
