Rolling Up the Welcome Mat

I think it's probably time to let you all in on a little secret: We have a new family member, here at Casa de Stopster. (No, don't even think it. Before anyone [cough, Nana, cough, cough] pees his/herself with excitement, I'm not pregnant again. Not even a little bit.) We've suspected it for a while, but it's now becoming quite clear that Two has really and truly moved in, and she seems to have no intention of leaving.

I hate to sound all Debby Downer here, but the thing is, we were fine before Two came along. Our unit worked, and everyone was happy with their place in the family. No one fought (much), no one yelled (not really loudly), no one cried at the drop of a hat (not too often). Sure, Two can be really cute and funny. She talks all the time and makes really silly faces, but she also causes havoc and chaos on a daily basis. Two yells at the cats for touching her toys. She refuses to talk to people and then cries inconsolably when they leave. She won't follow directions. She hits people when she doesn't get her way. She continues to climb on the coffee table after being repeatedly told not to, and to top it all off, she thinks time-out is a game.

Last week, in the morning before daycare, Two asked for some water. Even though I was already running behind and had five other things to do before loading her and Maddie into the car, I dutifully put Two's water in a sippy cup and politely handed it her, only to have it slapped out of my hand. "No! Nooooo! No, no, no!" Two shouted. She cried. She screamed. She threw herself on the floor, fists flailing, feet pounding. Exasperated, I threw up my hands (which I seem to be doing a lot of since Two moved in), put the water on the floor, and walked away. "Fine," I said. "I'm going to leave the water here, in case you change your mind." Thirty seconds later, Two sat on the floor, chugging the water, tears standing in her eyes. *Sigh*

How long will Two be staying, you ask? It's hard to say. Two has a transient life-style, but those who've had her in semi-permanent residence before say she can stay anywhere from six months to two years. Plus, I don't think she even has all her "stuff" moved in yet. There are still times when she goes, and we don't hear from her for a week or so, which is sort of nice, even though I feel bad admitting it. Sometimes I think "Poor, misunderstood Two. You're probably just frustrated with your lack of ability to communicate with the world. It must be hard to have people impose their will on you day in and day out. Perhaps I should try to be more lenient, more giving." Then I get smacked in the face again, and the feeling goes away.

Two, you have officially out-stayed your welcome! Please depart quickly, so the three normal, sane people who live in this house can return to their pleasant, peaceful lives.