Something I’ve realized about becoming a parent is that it really highlights the dominant elements of my personality. If I was introspective before, now I’m an absolute naval-gazer. A curious web-surfer? Now a total research junkie.

There’s just all this pressure to Get It Right. The French are doing it right. And so are the Italians. In fact, everyone is doing it right but me. Or you. Or anyone who is actually doing the naval-gazing at the time.

These new chickens are a-okay with Sadie.

Parenting Sadie is hard freaking work. She’s the most awesome kid I’ve ever known, but she can be a real handful for me a lot of the time. I do my best to convince myself that it’s no big deal that she hits and kicks me when she’s mad. That it’s normal that she nearly always does exactly the opposite of what I ask her to do, unless she’s in a magical mood. She doesn’t listen to me. She couldn’t sit through a meal at the table if her life depended on it. I can’t take her into any store without almost certain meltdown. She yells and screams at me, flings her Sadie-sized furniture over onto the floor or even strikes out at the dogs and cats when she doesn’t get her way.

And I’m no peach, either. I speak too sternly, raise my voice, lose my patience, forget to look at things through her eyes. There are a hundred-and-one answers to the “problems” I have with Sadie, and I’m not using them. In the moment, it is unbelievably hard to remember the tricks to making your “no” come out like a “yes.” Nearly all of the time, I’m winging it.

But you know what? I don’t sweat it like I could. Yes, I worry about what it looks like from the outside when people see me “not having a handle on her” at Target. And absolutely, I am SO TIRED. But I don’t worry about my parenting, and I don’t worry about Sadie. Why not? Because every single time I share Sadie with the other adults in her life, her behavior is nearly immaculate. She spent Friday night at my aunt and uncle’s house (her Mimi and Papa), and when I picked her up Saturday morning, my aunt said that I’d left her with a “perfect child.” Okay, nobody’s kid is perfect, so don’t think I took that literally. But there is a recurring theme to the reports I get back from family members who have helped take care of Sadie. It’s that she’s well behaved, well mannered, pleasant and easy.

Whether or not I’m Doing It Right, whatever I’m doing (and Trevor, too, of course) is working.

The all-important phase of lining things up: one of my favorites.

No, I don’t love how hard it is sometimes to parent Sadie. But I love her with every fiber of my being, and I want her to be a happy, successful person. So If I have to take one for the team and be the person Sadie tests every single limit (I mean every single one) so she can be well behaved, well mannered, pleasant and easy for the rest of the world, I’ll do it. Because it’s working. So far, at least.

Well, I managed to buy some $91 worth of groceries, yet made it out of Kroger without a single meal to prepare for the week. Sadie screamed (and hit and kicked) for at least five minutes before I made it through the checkout line, because I wouldn’t go back to the candy isle. Dinner was a total hodge-podge: I’m pretty sure Sadie had five olives, a little yoghurt, some mustard and a couple of bites of “burrito.” Must get back to meal planning and solo shopping on Sundays.

But I can’t even tell you how glad I am that bedtimes are mostly smooth. Pajamas, medicine, brush teeth, good night to Daddy, read three or five books, quick bedtime nurse, scratch back, scratch belly, scratch armpits (I don’t even know what that’s about), I Love Yous, kisses, cuddles, sleep. It’s such a good mending time for Sadie and me when we’ve had a rough spot. And it’s SO much less work than it was even a month ago, as hard as that might seem to believe.

Not all evenings are so rough, mind you. Yesterday was one of painting and goons, whatever that means. But this toddler thing sure kicks my ass sometimes. Oh, and Kroger, would it hurt to have the peanut butter on a different isle than the candy?

To all the people out there who told me Sadie wouldn’t want to be patted and shushed to sleep forever: You were right. It only took two years and nine months.

First, a special shout-out (not that they’ll ever read this) to the ladies at Vintage Socialite in Hillcrest. They were so kind to let a pleading Sadie not only try on some shoes, but they also didn’t kick me out when I (reluctantly) helped Sadie try on this big, beautiful red dress.

But, really, what I have to get off my chest is that I am completely worried that Sadie’s brain is being consumed by Princess. By our design, not any particular princess, but princess and pink to be sure. I do hope this is a phase, and it’s not something we’re discouraging, but I can’t help but worry (hey, I’ve got to do something my free time), especially when I listen to an interview like this.

For now, I’m focusing on things that are attainable, like learning ballet like her 13-year-old cousin, who is an all-around great role model for Sadie to choose.

We took Sadie to a drive-through holiday light display tonight. It was amusing, to say the least. When we finally hit The Line, Sadie started her stoplight chorus of “TURN GREEN!” (Oh, yes. Trevor has her believing that if she yells at the stoplights they will turn green for her. She’s hated stoplights since before she could hold her head up on her own.) And then, when we finally got to what was “the holdup,” turns out we were $4 shy of the $5 entry fee (oops, thought it was free). So a big Thanks to the folks in North Little Rock who gave us quite the holiday discount. We’re good for it next year.

All dressed up and ready to go!

There were a number of odd ducks on this holiday trail of lights. How a crocodile fits into the season, I just can’t say. My favorite part, though, was when Sadie saw a pair of gingerbread people. She called them “Cookie Pants.” I SO wish I hadn’t corrected her. She quickly took to “gingerbread men,” ditching what may be the best Sadieism of all time. I even tried to get her to go back to calling them “cookie pants,” but it was a no-go.

I asked Sadie where she would go if she could drive the car.

“To the store to get some more candy.”

Clearly Halloween season is upon us.

Nope, that’s not just Sadie watching a little TV. That’s Sadie reenacting the beginning of Alice in Wonderland. I didn’t grab my phone quickly enough to catch the start of her performance. Ah, well.

Sadie’s just discovered the joy of back scratches. I’m in for a long few years.

I took off a bit early today and picked up some bakery cookies on my way to get Sadie. She’s really become enamored with the Arkansas state capital building, and we drive to see and go through the tunnel two or three times a week. So we finally went while it was still open and had our cookies on the front steps. We went inside, but there wasn’t much going on, with it being a Friday afternoon. Sadie liked climbing the marble staircases and thought it was all very big and pretty. Maybe she’ll be an architect… Or governor.

Want to know what not to get your kid to celebrate no more diapers (!) and being 2 and a half (not two and ever, as Sadie would tell you)?

A fish in a tank.

Sadie loved the idea of the fish, who she named “Daddy Fishey.” But she pretty much flipped her shit yesterday when I tried to explain she could not, under any circumstance, hold Daddy Fishey. Not even just a wittle bit moore.

So now Trevor and I are keeping Daddy Fishey safe, way up high on the wardrobe in our bedroom. I guess until Sadie can understand that Daddy Fishey will be asleep forever if we take him out of his water house. And can agree not to bang on the tank when told such news (guess a larger, heavier tank would have been the better choice after all).

Oops.