The Household of Sisterly Love

We have tried to get Sydney ready for Tyson's arrival. Do they have anger management classes for 2 year olds?

My sweet, pleasant little girl gets all the attention in our house. Having to share might put her on an anger bender similar to the late-night ravings of Amanda Bynes. Instead of Jenny McCarthey, it will be little Tyson taking the brunt of that anger.

I've told you before of her anger issues. And here. And probably a half dozen other posts. She is easily frustrated and quick to blow a fuse. Sound familiar? Yes, you got it….just like Brooke.

It is nothing for her to get mad at something -- say she wants to play with an object and I say no -- and grab it and squeeze it as hard as she can. She literally gets a look on her face like she is an Olympic weightlifter straining to set the deadlift record. I alternate between laughing and trying to explain how this is not acceptable behavior.

Just this week, she was enjoying the fan blowing air on her when she decided to touch it. I forcefully told her she was not to touch the fan. Her response was to grab the sides of the fan and squeeze it as hard as she could. Not sure what she felt like she was accomplishing, but she gritted her teeth, grimaced and blew off some steam.

Her middle name is intensity.

I don’t think she does this with other kids. I’m fairly certain her child care provider, the unflappable Miss Amber, would have 1) told us about it and 2) booted her from day care if she did it with any regularity. In fact, the only time I have seen her with other children for a great deal of time (outside of day care) she was downright passive when the others were aggressive towards her. (That led to her dad giving her boxing lessons.)

But she does it plenty with inanimate objects such as the fan, her food for some unknown reason – you should see her squeeze the hell out of a blueberry – and, occasionally, her dogs, if they knock her down or don’t get out of her way fast enough. Lucky for them, her squeezes are only strong enough to harm a, well, blueberry.

I’m fairly convinced she has a career in the roller derby awaiting her. I’m signing her up for karate classes as soon as she can walk for 15 minutes straight without falling.

So, I am worried about her demeanor when it comes to sharing her parents with another child. The other night, when Brooke and she visited with friends, some of whom had babies, she was NOT happy when Brooke took a little one into her arms. She immediately ran over, pulled at her mom and said “Help me!” which is her universal appeal for our attention.

J-E-A-L-O-U-S.

This is what little Tyson is facing. Hell hath no fury like a 20-month-old ignored.

We’ve tried to do what we did with the dogs when Sydney was coming. We have a baby doll we call Tyson and we ask her to hold it and feed it and even kiss it.

She throws it.

I have one book we bought about the arrival of a new baby and I read it to her, substituting Tyson for the name of the baby.

She pushes it away and grabs for the nearest Sesame Street book.

(By the way, did you know there is a character named Murray on Sesame Street? And Abby Gadabi (spelling?) I just learned about Elmo a couple of years ago and now I find out about these two and some orange female character with a name I do not know.  Progress, I guess. But the Street still looks exactly like it did on my grainy black and white when I was drinking from a sippy cup. Where’s the updated set?)

She’s not exactly warming to the Tyson factor. If anyone has any tips, I will take them.

We really won’t know until he gets here what her real reaction will be. She might suddenly develop a nurturing gene overnight.

I’m not counting on it. I remember the fights I used to have with my younger brother and sister. Until she was a teenager, I am pretty sure I had my sister convinced we found her in a garbage can and adopted her. As for my brother, I can remember my mom locking us in a room one day and telling us to SETTLE it. I am not sure what “it” was, but whatever it was, it cost my brother a bloody nose.

I’m fairly certain Brooke and her brother, Blair, had similar battles.

But of the few people on this earth I’d battle for, maybe even die for, my brother and sister are at the top of the list. We don’t always get along, but we are blood. That means everything.

If I can get that kind of commitment out of my two kids, I’ll put up with a few Olympic-like squeezes here and there.