Vivian the Menace

You guys, I need to talk about Vivian for a minute.

The girl is crazy.

This morning, Vivian asked for a bagel because Julia asked for a bagel. I toasted a whole bagel, buttered both sides, gave each child one half of the bagel. Vivian screamed at me for 5 minutes straight because I gave her a bagel. After 5 minutes, she nicely asked for her bagel, dropped it three times because she insisted on holding her own damn plate (not her words, but if she knew swear words, she'd freaking be a pirate with them), and finally ate part of the bagel and threw the rest on the floor.

 After the bagel drama, she went into the back room, scooped out some cat litter, put it on our futon, and then apparently ate some because she came out whining and holding her tongue. Cat litter, people. Thank the Lord we use the natural stuff made of corn and cedar, but I feel that the fact that the cats use the litter box to urinate and poop negates the thankfulness that the litter is natural.

Obviously, I lost my mind when I realize what she'd done. I screamed jibberish that in my mind sounded like "UUUUUUUGH! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! YOU CAN'T EAT THAT!!!! YOU ARE THE GROSSEST PERSON ON THIS PLANET!" But, according to Julia, I basically just kept saying "Ugh!" and "Noooooo!".

I sent them upstairs to get dressed so we could go to the Y and I could dump Vivian off on unsuspecting caregivers. I cleaned up the mess, texted Evan that I was quitting being the mother of his children, and headed up to get ready myself.

I go upstairs into my room and realize upon entering that Vivian has already been there before me. She had swept everything off of Evan's nightstand, emptied my sock drawers, and was starting in on the contents of our sweater chest. Upon seeing me, she smiled a very ornery smile and said, "Mommy, I pooped." I chased her out of my room, texted Evan again, and tried to think of positive thoughts about Vivian. None came to mind, so I angrily picked up the mess and hurried to change. The quicker we got the Y, the more of a guarantee that I would not just leave Vivian on the stoop for the gypsies.

 I would like to say this is out of character for Vivian, but it is not. The child is crazy. She spends most of her time standing on our kitchen table (which we never let the other two do), trashing a room like a tornado, screaming in a voice so shrill I worry our wine glasses will shatter (and Lord knows I NEED those wine glasses to drink!). She requires more patience, more use of the phrase "be careful!!", more physical activity than the other two. She is our emergency room visit waiting to happen child.

But, oh my goodness, the child is adorable. She is stingy with her hugs and kisses, but we all trip over ourselves trying to receive them. She is the worst sleeper in the house, but can be so cheerful and pleasant in the mornings. She likes to cuddle on the couch and adores her older sisters (even though she totally tries to boss them around as if she was the boss of the Bonnett girls).

I guess that, even though there are days where I need a large "I am the mother of Vivian" glass of wine, I truly would not trade her in for the world.

Of course, I can say that now since she is quietly playing and not wrecking my house so my view is not skewed by her antics...