These tantrums go to 11.

Marley Joy is a delightful three-and-a-half-year-old most of the time.  And then there are the tantrums.  She shrieks long and loud (actually rendering herself hoarse for the next two or three days), runs in tight circles, and literally, cannot contain herself.  She's a mess.  I took a picture the other night because I have a plan to make a tantrum slideshow accompanied by Daniel Powter's "Bad Day."  Um, is that wrong?

We do time-outs.  We teach her to take deep breaths.  We do not give in.  We have sticker charts for good behavior.  We ignore them.  We, apparently, make slide shows.  But really, I think she needs to grow out of them.  She needs to get enough sleep, enough food, and enough attention.  She needs to learn that things will not always go her way, and she needs to accept imperfection.  Pretty much every time I see her pediatrician, I ask about the tantrums and Marley's need to do things 1.) by herself, 2.) in a privately predetermined order, 3.) without error.  She will begin a ridiculous task over and over again, and it's painful to watch.  But when I try to help, it only sends her further off the edge.  Marley's doctor told me to model flexibility.  Uh-oh.

The most recently photographed tantrum occurred because Marley wanted me to turn on the hot and cold water while she was on the toilet.  She then wanted me to leave the bathroom so that she could hop off the potty, get dressed, close and lock (!) the door, and wash her hands in private.  All of the things up until the washing would probably take at least five minutes.  I told her that I didn't want to waste water that way.  I told her I'd turn on the water when she was really ready to wash her hands.  BOOM!  TANTRUM!  Lasting over forty minutes.  I wouldn't give in.  Neither would she.  I took a picture.  Todd paced worriedly outside.  Eventually, Todd pleaded with me to turn on the water; he reasoned that we could explain that we were afraid she would make herself sick.  He said she could face some other kind of consequence.  I think he's just not able to tune out a screaming toddler the way I can.  It's a skill I have acquired with meltdown experience.

This morning, Todd got Marley dressed for school.  This needs to happen early, otherwise we're late.  I mean, later than usual.  As he left for his job at the high school, Marley was already screaming about how she wanted to change back into her nightie.  I think it was because she didn't want to eat her breakfast in an actual outfit?  C'mon, Bean.  Loosen up.  Please!  I spent the hour before school tuning out Marley's screams, feeding Rudy, cleaning up two piles of cat vomit and several foul Similac-spit-ups, and wishing the latte fairy would pay me a visit.  Mere drip brew was not enough to lift my bedraggled spirits.  Marley climbed into the car in a state of undress because she was still trying to get into the nightie as we left.  Her backpack was missing a change of clothes, too.  Which was unusual because I've had the same shirt, pants, and undies in there since the first day of school.  In case of an accident.  I think I meant to swap them for larger sizes this weekend and never got around to it.  After dropping Marley off, I rushed home because I was expecting my third visit from the cable guy in two weeks.  (I need to be online, man.  What's Barack Obama doing?  Which celebrities are being douches?  And God forbid I'm unable to update pretty much no one on my mundane little life.  Speaking of which, when I told Todd I was blogging and twittering, he told me that, "It's like you're so lonely you're talking to yourself on the internet."  Ha, ha.  And when I told him about a mom at the library who defied convention by asking me my name after we went over the usual kids' names and ages, claiming that she wanted to think of herself as a person again, Todd said that was, "Cute."  I looked at Rudy.  "Do you hear that?  Your dad thinks it's cute when moms lose their own identities."  More on that later, probably.)  Anyhow, the cable guy.  And when the phone rang (My cell phone, because my home phone hasn't worked reliably in the past two weeks.  See cable guy, above.), and I saw that it was Marley's school, I knew:

She peed herself.

And of course it was the one time she was missing her change of clothes.  I hustled back to the school with new undies and tights.  Looking back, I guess I should've brought the flippin' nightie.

But look at me now.  I'm obviously online, Rudy's nap has overlapped with Marley's Quiet Time for almost a half-hour, the dishwasher is running (I love it when things clean themselves), and a delicious latte is in my near future.  Also, odds are that Marley will be delightful for most of the rest of the day.  I love that kid.