While visiting with a dear friend, she pointed to her almost 3YO and confided, “I don’t know what’s going on with her these days. She’s been sullen and withdrawn and doesn’t want to play with her toys or even her friends anymore. I’m worried she’s becoming introverted.” As a self-proclaimed expert in the field of introversion, I assured her that it wasn’t something her daughter could contract at preschool and then blow into a tissue. No, what her daughter had was far, far worse. She was coming down with a bad case of The Threes.

The Threes are a sneaky series of viruses that never fully work their way through the child’s system. They infect toddlers on-contact and have been found to re-infect children who were once thought recovered. The Threes can be hard to detect at first, however, because the only thing stronger than the viruses themselves, are the parents’ levels of denial. And like most of us, my friend was resistant.

Fortunately, if you suspect that your child is hosting The Threes, there are some very clear indicators that can either put your concerns at ease…or prepare you for war. I’ve asked Dr. Naptime, a leading expert in the field of Threes research, who is currently working on her second PhD, to discuss them with us today.

CK: Tell me, Doctor, other than the general selfishness, speech regression, and strong-willed stand offs, what are some of the behaviors parents should look for if they suspect that their child might be three?

DR. NAPTIME: A lot of researchers will tell you that the behaviors are relative to the child’s disposition and chemical make-up, but I think it’s a lot simpler than that. The main symptoms you can expect to find are the sort of horrors you thought only happened with other, poorly parented children. Like public streaking, public screaming, and tantrums involving the trifecta of shrieking, flailing, and kicking. Also expect the rules to change every six minutes. Favorite foods become verboten. Threes will put on their own seventeen-point-harness seatbelt before you close the car door, but will take more than an hour to get into their clothes. And then the next day they’ll dress quickly but scream without cease about eating. Or getting into the car. Or walking or being carried or swinging or jumping or walking or hugging or sleeping or gardening or bicycling or digging or building or coloring or reading or brushing teeth or putting on shoes.

CK: My first child was always challenging, always very spirited. So when she turned three it was simply like an extention of two, which was a natural progression from the fitstorm that started at 18 months. But my second child was a dream…until she turned three. Now everything she does is far more dramatic than her sister. When I purchase a gift for her, I actually have to consider whether or not she can hurt herself with it when she breaks it during a tantrum. What are some of the other thoughts a parent might find themselves muddling through if they can’t keep their child from turning three?

DR. NAPTIME: Some of the more popular thoughts include: ‘If I can just make it through the next ten seconds it’ll be okay. Fine, if I can make it through the *next* ten seconds it’ll be…now if I can make it through just 3600 more of those moments, there will be peace and quiet in this house. For a few minutes. Until tomorrow morning. But then I only have to make it through ten seconds…’ Or  ’Is “paranormal” just for ghosts or does it apply to these antics, too?’ Or ‘How do most human beings make it to age four? How long before can I send this thing going to college? How long can I hide in the bathroom before this thing hurts itself? This behavior is clearly from my partner’s side. I’ll bet his/her whole family does this.’

CK: I’ve secretly wondered if I did enough resesarch on the hospital where I gave birth. At the time I was most concerned with whether or not they had private recovery rooms, because learning how to breastfeed with an audience sounded like the worst situation EVER. But after two months of my daughter being three, I’m starting to doubt how credible the hospital really was. I mean, how sure am I that they gave me the right child? What other secret, guilt-inducing thoughts might a parent expect to ponder when their child hits 36 months?

DR. NAPTIME: Are the gypsies still buying? What’s the going rate? What’s the limit for safe surrender at the fire station? If I can knock myself into a coma and leave a detailed note, will the doctors time it so I wake up when this creature turns 5?

CK: Any suggestions on how to cope? A big clock on the wall that keeps a tally of how many minutes until bedtime? An unlimited Starbucks giftcard? Putting the kids out in the cold until their lips turn blue so that they’ll be calm for at least the time it takes them to defrost?

DR. NAPTIME: Instead of falling into the natural trap of wondering where they went wrong, or what they did in a previous life to deserve it, parents should start with the long-overdue apologies. First to their parents. These should be dramatic and embarrassing. Then childhood friends and their parents. And finally to their neighbors for the noise. During each encounter, the parent should practice being confident and loving, so when the day comes that they feel that way again, they’ll already know how to act. But keep in  mind, these apologies all need to be done in front of the child. That way, when the child has a moment of clarity between fits, they can weigh whether or not the impending behavior is worth the apology later.

CK: As for the rest of you parents of Threes out there – stop counting down until they turn 4 or 5. Age don’t mean nothin’. Start the countdown to Kindergarten. I’ve got 941 days. How ’bout you?

© 2011 CEK & Christine Harkin. All Rights Reserved.

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ONE: “Mama, guess what?”

ME: “Tell me.”

ONE: “ANOTHER boy is in love with me.”

ME: “Really. I had no idea.”

ONE: “Yep. Wants to marry me and everything.”

ME: “Interesting. Does he know you’re only 5?”

ONE: “Maaamaaa…”

ME: “Because he’ll need to check with Daddy first, and nothing breaks a heart faster than the father of a 5 year old.”

ONE: “It’s okay because he’s also in love with my FRIEND and she’s always trying to kiss him.”

ME: “Really? Like, where? On the hand, or something?”

ONE: “NO. On the lips. And he burps.”

ME: “REEEEEEEALLY? Out on the playground?”

ONE: “In the cafeteria.”

ME: “Interesting. Does she know she’s only 5?”

ONE: “Maaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaa…”

ME: ”Well, I guess it’s nice of you to share your boy…I mean, your friend. Or whatever. I guess.”

ONE: “You know I don’t love him. I’m in love with someone else.”

ME: “Interesting. Do YOU know you’re only 5?”

Kindergarten is fast becoming a quagmire of romantic intrigue. Who loves whom. Who’s getting married to the other. Who knows and who doesn’t. The “being in love” part I can deal with. ONE has been in and out of love since she was 3. But the kissing. Man… I actually have to go into the class today to speak with the teacher about a problem ONE is having with a little girl who won’t stop trying to kiss her on the lips. “I guess she’s in love with me, too,” was ONE’s (very modest) assessment of the situation. But that was a few weeks ago. Now she’s getting upset. AND there’s so much more to the drama that I can’t share because I’ve been bound by my very first, “You can’t tell anyone, Mama. OR write about it.” (BTW: I was late posting this morning because I had to wait until my source woke up so I could verify my permissions on the above information. Everything checked out.)

The funniest part to me is that when I ask her what she thinks it means to be “in love,” she just shrugs. Nothing. It means nothing. Just another game, like dress-up or princesses or lame-o Barbie-o. I try to laugh with her about it instead of making a big deal, lest I reveal that I think she’s waaaaaaaay too young to even be speaking like this. What, being only 5 and all. But these Kindergarten influences. So many kids with older siblings. People letting their kids watch trashy nighttime dramas or trashy daytime Disney. It makes me sad and a little bit angry because each morning I send her off to school knowing that she’ll leave just a little bit more of her childishness there at the end of the day. Sometimes I deal with it better than others.

ONE: “So I played with my friend again today and she said she’s in love with–”

ME: “Seriously. WHERE is this coming from? Who’s talking about being in love?”

ONE: “You, Mama.”

ME:…

ONE: ”You’re always saying how much you’re in love with Daddy.”

Oh.

Well.

I guess there are worse things than a romantic child…

©2010 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER

ME: Are you sure?

ONE: Yes, Mama, please hurry. I don’t want her to catch up with us.

ME: What happened?

ONE: Nothing. I just don’t want to be her friend anymore. I want to make new friends.

ME: That’s okay. Sometimes we need space from our friends. But maybe you should consider thinking about that before you say anything to her. You know, just in case you change your mind.

ONE: Maybe…

I know I let the conversation drop after that, you are only five after all, but just in case something happens and I can’t tell you when you’re older, there will always be the desire to play with someone new. Someone cooler. Because there will always BE someone new and cooler. But they won’t always live up to the standards of your true friends. Look around you when you feel the very best about yourself. THOSE are your people.

And just in case we don’t get to discuss it later: ABC. Always Be Compassionate. You can be kind without being weak, and funny without being disrespectful. You can also be a gossip. And no matter how funny you are about it, you’ve marked yourself.

And just in case you’re feeling angry and spiteful, be as gentle as you can anyway. It will hurt less when it’s thrown back in your face.

And just in case you find yourself confused about what’s okay and what’s not, it’s ALWAYS okay to stand up for yourself and for your friends. But it’s never okay to cause your friends to have to stand up to anyone else. Especially you.

And just in case there is something separating us later and we can’t chat over tea and hot chocolate, I know that right now you only tease and taunt because you feel safe. But you won’t always get the chance to make it up. And then you’ll be alone with the words you didn’t even mean, wondering why you needed to say them in the first place.

And just in case you don’t believe me now, someday you’ll understand that the decisions you make really do matter. You may be forgiven, but you still have to live with the consequences. If you break a friendship and sell it for its parts, it may remain weak after you put it back together, even if you retrieve all of the pieces.

And just in case you lose sight, let me guide you: The cool kids only look cool from where you’re standing. Several paces back, you’re the cool kid to someone else.

Deserve that.

ONE: Mama? I forgot to tell you. I decided that I like my friend again.

ME: What happened?

ONE: Nothing. I think I just needed a little space. I’m glad I didn’t tell her I didn’t like her. Because I was wrong and she might not have wanted to be MY friend anymore.

And I’m glad I kept all my thoughts to myself. Because you are your own person, not an extension of me. And you’re doing a wonderful, wonderful job growing up.

©2010 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER.

Naked Dinner (Then):

Billie Holiday, tea light candles on a plastic table, cheap wine, some kind of chicken, a salad, maybe a side, paper napkins across bare laps, trying to eat with a straight face.

Smiling.

Abandoning dinner.

A+

*          *          *          *          *          *

Naked Dinner (Now):

WordGirl theme song, pendant lights over the kitchen counter, expensive milk, some kind of chicken, no salad, maybe a side (though it won’t be appreciated), plastic place mat, giggling 4 year-old trying to keep a straight face.

ME: ”I asked you to turn the TV off before…where’s your dress?”

ONE: “What dress?”

ME: ”Where’s. Your. Dress?”

ONE: ”On the porch.”

ME: ”You’d better have your panties on.”

ONE: ”Why? I don’t need panties to eat.”

ME: ”GO PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON.”

A jump. A whoosh.

Shrieking.

Abandoning dinner.

F

©2009 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Five years ago I started blogging as a way to cope with how discouraged I felt by motherhood. I loved my children with all of my heart, but I was overwhelmed on a regular basis, lonely although I was never alone, and really, really tired. Blogging connected me with moms all over the world and brought laughter and insight into my life. But it also wound up becoming such a convenient distraction that I often chose it over what I was supposed to be doing. Like playing with my kids, or keeping them from smearing Desitin all over each other…

Author Chris Kuhn over at kuhnstories.com asked me to write about my experience as a mommy blogger for Mother’s Day. And in looking back, I realized for the first time just how blogging shaped me as a mom, and how far I’ve come since I started. Until now, when I’ve thought back on those hazy years it’s always been with a sense of regret, like maybe if I’d figured out how to do things differently I wouldn’t have struggled so much. But though writing this I realized that my dreams were so consuming that it took years of brokenness for me to truly embrace the life before me, and my role as a mom. Which was a completely unexpected Mother’s Day gift. (And nothing beats a meaningful present I didn’t have to shop for, wrap, and nag my kids to make a card for.)

Chris’s Corner Welcomes Guest Blogger Cindy Kane: Remembering Mama

Happy Mother’s Day to all of my fellow moms out there. We did it! We made it through another year. And a special hug to all of you new moms just beginning the journey. It’s a wonderful, sweet, fulfilling, life-changing, painful journey filled with laughter, tantrums and second guessing – but growing up always is, isn’t it?

©2013 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER

Descending the stairs used to lead to good things. A living room lit by the Christmas tree, a prom date, the first few seconds of summer vacation…

Now, not so much.

Because it doesn’t matter how much fun I hear my kids having with my husband while I’m in bed, the moment I descend the stairs they lose it. And forget it if I’ve just returned from an activity that left me smiling and relaxed. Happiness is gone before I put away my purse.

It baffles me because there’s no pause or warning. They abandon whatever activity they were enjoying to moan and complain and ram into my legs because apparently my presence reminded them that their lives were about to end.

I shared my discontent over this series of most unfortunate events with my mom, who remained unusually quiet. When I finally paused so she could shower me with sympathy, she raised an eyebrow.

EYEBROW: Would you mind if I took my jacket off and had something to eat? I’ve only been here for five minutes, it was a very long drive and my blood sugar dropped in Delaware. I’d like to sit down, maybe see the girls. How about a hug?

ME: Don’t judge me, eyebrow.

As I sulked to the car to grab her things I felt just like the little kid who used to sit on the stairs and wait for her to return from wherever she’d been. I remembered the emotional release as soon as she walked through the door and how quickly her smile was replaced by, “Just let me go to the bathroom and then I’ll help you.” It always took her a long time to pee.

I guess she was working up the will to come back out.

Which I never understood because even as an adult I was so anxious for her to walk through the door that I never thought about how she felt to enter the house. All I thought about was how the pressure to be a mom would lift when she arrived and I’d be safe. Safe to zone out. Safe to stop paying attention. Safe to not feel guilty as my brain wandered away to the happy place where it was all about me again.

And as I stood there, I realized that it would be a long (looooooooong) life of relieving my kids from selfish angst at the bottom of the stairs, so I’d probably better sneak out of the house for some “alone time” before they noticed me standing there…

©2009 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER

It’s not that I enjoy being dumped, I don’t. But I’ve always preferred it to being the dumper. In fact, my high school breaking-up skills were so poor that if I couldn’t relinquish a relationship in note-form, or manipulate the guy into ending things, I’d just pretend we never went out.

ONE, as I learned last week, has none of these issues. Because just minutes after leaving a playdate, before she was even buckled into her car seat, ONE dropped a friend. And I mean, flipped-the-switch-cold-hard abandoned her.

I’m still reeling from it.

She wasn’t rude to the girl or anything. She was pleasant. But as soon as I started the car, she waved good-bye to the girl and announced to me, “I’m done being friends with HER.”

ME: “What?”

ONE: “I just can’t play with HER anymore, Mama. I don’t like her. She’s boring.”

That’s it? It’s over? Just like that?

I guess it’s not just like that. She’s known this girl for several years now and never really liked her. In fairness, they didn’t really any have common life interests and were clearly growing apart. But this particular girl had a great mom. Making friends with moms is an art form. Another one of my seriously limited “skills.” So when I connect with a mom, I’m happy. And when I connect with a mom who has a kid her age? Awesome.

And now it’s over.

I know it’s really over because even though I pretended ONE never shared her heartfelt sentiments, when I mentioned getting together with them later on the week ONE nearly lost it. She freaked out that I didn’t listen to her. I DID listen to her. I just didn’t suppose that she really meant it…

So not only am I disappointed, I’m left to clean up her mess. It’s not like she was the one making phone calls and setting up playdates. Or emailing during the week or texting when something funny happened. No. That was me. What is the protocol for these situations? Is a clean break what’s best for all? It’s not like the kids will ever see each other on their own and maybe reconnect.

I mean, this is pretty much it for the mom and I, isn’t it? We can’t hang out behind our kids’ backs. It would be awkward. Two moms get together and not talk about their kids? Especially ones who used to be friends back in the day? Sure. For like, 10 minutes. Just like in HS again. Can’t keep the family when you dump (or are dumped by) the son. It’s so sad. Especially when the family was far more awesome…

(On a related note, does marriage nullify ignored high school relationships? If not, I might still be dating someone from freshman year who had a skinny head and chlorine breath…)

©2010 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER

“Oh my dear, will you marry me?” She put her arms around the neck of her beloved, closed her eyes and leaned in for a kiss. Her “beloved” pushed away.

“What did I tell you about this?” I asked.

“What?” she said. “I’m pretending to be The Prince.“

“Well,” I said. “I haven’t been a maiden for a really long time…”

“Mo-om! I’m just pretending.“

For the record, I know the difference between pretend making-out and real making-out. And she’s been going after me, Disney-style, for the last month. Maybe it’s her G-rated movie collection. Maybe it’s because I was so surprised the first time she did it that I gave her more of a reaction than she was expecting. Maybe it’s because I laughed at Country-Fried Mama when she Tweeted about her daughter doing the same thing.

I’ve tried to work with ONE on this. I’ve asked nicely. I’ve repeated sternly. I’ve exhausted everything I could think of to curb the behavior without squelching the spirit, lest she accidentally get to first with one of her little friends.

There have been discussions, time-outs, tantrums and flashbacks to when she was 1 and trying to learn how to pucker her lips for a kiss. She eventually got it (after slipping my husband the tongue and freaking him out) but has since given up the appropriate parental kissing style.

But at least back then it wasn’t intentional and it didn’t happen to me.

Until the other day when she yanked at the the bottom of my bikini to get my attention. I grabbed her hand before she could expose me. She saw my reaction and tried again. I caught her hand and brought her over to the side of the pool to impress upon her the importance of bathing suit decorum.

She wrapped her arms around my neck to give me an “apologetic hug” and as soon as my guard was down she changed tactics and leaned in for the freeze-frame kiss.

I can’t keep up. She just shrugs off my rebuffs with the air of Gaston. I’m constantly on guard, waiting for the next time I’ll have to swat her away. I haven’t been pursued like this since college. And while she does have some of the same physical characteristics of the man who won me back then, she just doesn’t have any of the same…appeal. This of course matters not to her.

And the worst thing is that I just know it’ll be one of those, “Hey, remember the way mom used to freak out when…” stories that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

My mom warned me that my kids would know how to push my buttons. That they would even go as far as to find “buttons” I didn’t know I had, just to push them repeatedly. She never specified that one would be the “Mom with Benefits” button, though.

Woulda been helpful, Mom. Woulda been helpful…

©2009 CEK. All Rights Reserved.

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER.

I don’t like it when you smear yellow on my chin just to see if it “works.”

I don’t like the way you “can’t hear me” when you race off to the areas of the field to get flowers for your “wedding.”

I don’t like finding pollen in my pocket or petals melted to the walls of the dryer.

I don’t like pulling long, twisty stems out of the beater bar of the vacuum.

I don’t like cleaning water off of your dresser when the paper cup vase you used disintegrated.

I don’t like how damp and sandy they always feel, regarless of the time of day.

And I don’t like wondering if I have to keep holding them, or if I can toss them in the grass after you seem to have forgotten.

So I always hold them. I always bring them home. They always die on my counter and make their way under furniture.

Because I know that for the rest of my life, as I walk through the park and see dandelions and “peanut-butter cups” dotting across the tops of the fields, I will think of you.

And as you grow older and your taste in flowers matures and you bring me gifts of lilies and roses and tulips, I will love them. I will arrange them in beautiful vases and smile at you over the tips of their petals.

But weed bouquets will always be my favorite.

©2009 CEK. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WANT SOME DAILY AFFIRMATION THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY BAD MOMMY OUT THERE? FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER,INSTAGRAM, OR COME VENT ON FACEBOOK. WE’LL BAD-MOMMY IT TOGETHER.

I’m super excited to introduce you all to my wonderful friend Marianne at White Peach Pottery. I told her of my love of weed bouquets and how I’ve never been able to find vases the right size for them, and like the artist she is, she just went and created a line of Mommy Vases. (I love being around artistic people – they’re so inspiring!) She’s selling them at the Mom’s Night Out in Shrewsbury, NJ on Sunday night, and will be putting them up for sale on her site after that. They’re all unique and handmade and she’s selling them for just $7.00. The perfect springtime gift for the mom–or little girl–in your life.

Remember Amanda from Parenting By Dummies –  the sweet and funny mom of three (no longer small) boys who’s been charging around the blogosphere for the last four years? Well, she’s all grown up and Dude Mom now. And last year she joined me for the Mother’s Day show and shared the story about her struggle with her body after having kids, which culminated in her appearance on What Not To Wear. Which, can you even imagine? (I can’t.) But with her trademark honesty and good humor, Amanda shared her heart with us.

And now I get to share it with you. 

Amanda Rodriguez tells true story at the SpeakeasyDC ensemble performance “Bad Mommy Moments.” from SpeakeasyDC on Vimeo.

Be sure to check out Amanda’s revamped blog: Dude Mom. You can also find her on Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, Instagram