I Blame the Banana


This was written yesterday before I got home and pretty much laid down on the couch for the rest of the night:

My throat is sore and my head is throbbing with that stuffed up can’t-think-straight-for-longer-than-five-seconds feeling. Really, passing out would be the best option at this point, except that I’m not home and I have to pick up Zoey soon and jeez, would it be really bad if I just curled up in a ball on the floor right here and covered up with my jacket? Just a little snooze. Can’t hurt anyone, right?

This whole yucky feeling started at some point in the middle of today–after I dropped Zoey off at my mom’s house this morning and made grandiose plans of going grocery shopping after work (I won’t be too tired to get groceries and then pick up my teething toddler from Mom’s house before going home and helping Greg make supper while our idiot dogs take turns whining to go outside every fifteen minutes. Nope. I’ll still be on my A-game at that point. God, I am SO stupid) and before someone left a freakin’ awesomely good chocolate cake in the break room with a sign to help yourself to a piece. Somewhere in there (by the way, the cake was good). My throat got a little scratchy and then my head felt like clouds were starting to gather inside. And now we’re into full-on my-neck-aches-and-my-sinuses are-screaming mode.

And this is great–JUST GREAT–because I have groceries to get, pies in a jar to figure out how to make by this weekend (gah!), Christmas cards to send out (IF they ever come in the mail, thank you very much, Shutterfly.com. Ugh) and nonstop stressing to do over bills, homemade Christmas presents and WHAT IF ZOEY DOESN’T LIKE THE MR. POTATO HEAD I BOUGHT HER?!?! And now this. Seriously (oddly enough, two packages of Ricola cough drops arrived at our house yesterday via UPS for a review I have to do over at www.parentpalace.com. Talk about good timing).

But thankfully I didn’t come down with this last night before Zoey decided to throw what will forever be known in the history of The Preble Road Crew as The Tantrum To End All Tantrums. Oh my gosh, you guys, it was SO bad. I mean, she’s at that age where a tantrum here and a tantrum there is EXPECTED. She’s feeling us out; testing her boundaries and all that . But last night, she basically decided those boundaries were for crap and who’s in charge around here anyway? Not Mom and Dad for sure.

So, I picked her up from my mom’s house after I got out of work–like usual. We got home and while I started dinner, Greg gave Zoey an Oreo (if you offer her any other kind of cookie, she WILL cut you) to tide her over. I was making tuna and noodles, y’all, so we’re not talking hours until dinner. But after Zoey ate her first cookie, the water was just starting to boil on the stove. So, I gave her one more and told her that that was it until dinner.

No problem. She happily walked around the kitchen and munched on her cookie.

Then she spotted the bananas on the counter. Her absolute favorite other than mandarin oranges. She saw them and then it was all, MUST HAVE. So, she pointed to the bananas and in baby talk (which Greg and I are getting to be absolute pros at deciphering) asked me for one. I told her no. She started whining. I told her no again and explained that we were about to eat supper in just a few minutes. She plopped her butt down on the floor and started crying.

I’ll be honest, I ignored her for a few minutes while I stirred the pasta. After all, the baby books tell you to do that–as long as they aren’t near anything remotely dangerous, let them work through their tantrum on their own. So I worked on dinner and then after she had been complaining for a while, I went over to where she was lying in front of the refrigerator, pulled her into my arms and lovingly told her that we were going to eat dinner in a few minutes. she laid her head against my chest like she understood and settled down. I held her for a minute until she pulled away.

And she pointed to the darn bananas again.

I told her no again.

Greg suggested putting the bananas in the microwave–you know, out of sight out of mind? Except, they weren’t out of Zoey’s mind. She completely flipped out. So thinking that maybe she only needed to sit with me in the living room for a little bit, I left Greg to finish up dinner and I took Zoey into the living room to settle her down.

She continued to fuss. She squirmed off my lap so that she could lay on the floor while she cried and threw around our freshly-washed-but-not-yet-folded laundry that was piled in one of our chairs. She screamed and she cried and I tried talking to her. I tried sitting next to her and redirecting her with a Curious George book. I asked her if she wanted me to hold her–she pushed me away, which shut my mouth, let me tell you. She NEVER says no to Mommy cuddling with her. But she didn’t want Mommy and she didn’t want Daddy and she just kept finding more clean socks to throw around until she finally just wore herself out.

I picked her up and cuddled with her while Greg and I debated in quiet whispers about whether we were good parents and she can probably have a banana with her tuna and pasta (gag) for supper, right? We wanted to make her understand that just because we say no to something it doesn’t mean that the answer will be forever no. Maybe it’s just no for right now. Unless she wants be a stripper. That is a forever no. But you see what I’m getting at, right? I mean, we’re still learning the whole ‘be strong, yet understanding parents’ crap. And there are some days, like yesterday, that Girlfriend really puts us through our paces. We just wanted her to see that there was (sort of) a method to our madness.

So anyway, there I was, cuddled up with my baby in our recliner while Greg finished dinner. I was gently rocking while I held her close and it didn’t even dawn on me that this might be problem until Greg came in the living room, took one look at Zoey and announced, “She’s sleeping.”


So, let me just sum this up: Girlfriend is teething and she had had only about a half an hour nap at Mom’s house during the day. The banana debacle pretty much just sent her over the edge until she was too tired to stay awake for supper. And she refused to wake up. Greg and I changed her diaper and put pajamas on her–but Zoey just whined in her sleep without even opening her eyes. She was done. If she couldn’t have a freakin’ banana, she wanted to sleep. Jeez.

She slept mostly through the night until about three in the morning when she decided that it was time to whine until Daddy went in her room and gave her a binky. Then she reached out of her crib for him, his heart melted and in they both come to our room. Zoey ended up sleeping between Greg and I, cuddled up to both of us on our pillows.

When I woke up the next morning, she was curled up down by our knees, laying with her feet pointed towards our heads. Apparently, that was comfy because she was softly snoring. The cuteness factor was ridiculous.

Lest you worry about the banana situation, I put one in Zoey’s lunchbox for her to have at Mom’s house for breakfast today. I gave it to her right before I left Mom’s house this morning and Zoey got a big grin when she saw it. Then she tried to eat the peel.

What have we learned from this whole sordid affair? KEEP THE BANANAS OUT OF SIGHT FORTHELOVEOFALLTHATISHOLY.

I don’t know what this hold is that bananas seem to have over her, but I guess we should at leat be happy that she’s eating fruit.

And now, friends, I need to find some tissues and cough medicine so I can simply pass out like a normal person.

P.S.–please don’t tell Zoey about the Mr. Potato Head. It’s a surprise for Christmas. She’s also getting Mrs. Potato Head.

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About cdhoose

I'm a mom to an amazing little girl and have another little one on the way. I live in Upstate New York with my fiance and daughter, 2 big, crazy dogs and a 3-legged cat (who has an attitude). I hate know-it-alls, Lindsay Lohan and socks with holes in them. I always seem to get myself into trouble (which entertains my fiance to no end), but I try hard to be a good parent. Also, I occasionally work on scrapbooking the fifty billion pictures I've taken of my kid. And I like ice cream. The end.

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