Little Divas

Huh. Who knew?

All this time, we’ve been stressed out about traveling with the World’s Worst Travelers (seriously – they are terrible). I’ve been breaking out in hives before and during air travel. Yelling during and drinking heavily following car travel (hand to God, there were two years in a row when Blair puked in her carseat. Have you ever tried to get puke out of a carseat in a hotel laundry room. Because I have. Twice.).

And then. And. Then.

We’ve been lucky enough to hitch a ride on a … how do you say … smaller airplane the past few times we’ve been to Longboat Key. And, um … the girls were perfect. Like, legitimate angels. Like, to the point where their Nani went out on a limb and complimented them MULTIPLE times on how they were acting. Which, in normal cases, would guarantee they would start acting like assholes immediately following any sort of nice comment about their behavior. But in this case, it just seemed to make them reach for the stars – and fall asleep. IN THE MORNING! And then sleep almost the entire flight.

Maybe it’s the access to unlimited snacks. Maybe it’s the fact that they can sit facing me and know my eyes are constantly on them. Or maybe they are just messing with me.

Probably that last one.

Either way, it just seems to make sense that this would be the answer to all our prayers.

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Proof. See? I’m not lying.

Watch, next they’ll start requesting drivers and servants. Oh wait – they have one already, and they treat her terribly and tell her how to drive.

Divas.

Am I Being Good?

Oh, Blair. Blair, Blair, Blair. Why do you do it?

For the past, um … forever, Blair has been able to go from happy to full-on tantrum in an impressively short amount of time. Like, literally in the blink of an eye. I’m not exaggerating – ask someone who has been around her longer than a few minutes.

Now, I can deal with tantrums. As a seasoned veteran of throwing them myself, having a twin brother who was an AMAZING tantrum thrower, and obviously being Paige’s mom … well, I’m no stranger to trying to diffuse a situation. But with Blair? Things are a little (a LOT) different.

You see, mid-fit (mid-EVERY. SINGLE. FIT.), Blair will turn to me and say in a relatively calm and sweet voice, “Am I being good, Mommy?”

What the what?

(The first time Nani heard her say that, she literally laughed out loud and may have spit out her water. The first time her Aunt EJ heard her say it, she said “Is that a joke?” The first time I heard her say it, I knew that homegirl was messing with my head. Per usual.)

I generally begin by ignoring the question. You know, turning up the radio if we’re in the car, walking out of the room if we’re at home (grabbing her grubby little paws and dragging her out of the store if we’re in public…). However, in her typical Honey Badger style, the question only gets louder and MUCH more aggressive. “MAMA!!!! AM! I! BEING! GOOD?!?!?!?”

At some point  (typically 2-3 minutes into said fit), I snap my patience runs out and I turn to her and ask, “Blair, do YOU think you’re being good?” That question used to quiet her for a second or two, and she would respond with a “No. But I WANT to be good!” Now, after months of this dog and pony show, I usually end up just saying, “Nope. No, Blair. You are not being good. You are not being good even one little tiny bit.” (Other moms, I hope you’re taking notes here – because there’s no way you’re going to win any mothering awards unless you parent just like me. Wait. The opposite of that.)

This quickly devolves into her crying loudly, and following me around yelling “I WANT TO BE GOOD, MAMA! I WANT TO BE GOOD!” To which I inevitably end up saying (in an above-normal-volume), “THEN. JUST. BE. GOOD!!!!”

And thus begins what sometimes can be 40+ minute tantrum (her record is 59 minutes – yep, I time them for evidence to be used against her at an unspecified future time). It’s pretty ridiculous, and at some point I usually end up laughing out loud at the insanity of the situation.

Then I usually cry into my coffee or wine, depending on the time of day (or, let’s be honest – depending on what I have on hand).

Living the dream here, people.

Living. The. Dream.

See how sweet she looks. Nope. Just worn out from "wanting to be good."

See how sweet she looks. Nope. Just worn out from “wanting to be good.”