I love my half birthdays.  Yes, I said my HALF birthday.  I don’t get any presents but I do get a song.  My mother calls me up and will sing to me “Happy Half Birthday to you.  Happy Half Birthday to you.  Happy Half Birthday dear Angie.  Happy Half Birthday to you!”  Sometimes she forgets it is our half birthday and so my siblings and I have to call her to remind her to sing to us.  We are silly that way.

Today is not my half birthday.  (It is next month in case you are curious).  Today is C’s.  She is 2 1/2.  I try to continue my mother’s tradition and sing to my girl’s on their respective half birthdays.  When they are little like C they just look at me strangely and then inquire about cake and presents, not quite getting the sentimentality of the little song.

Although I like my own half birthday, I do not like it when my children reach theirs.  I have never had any experiences with the “Terrible Twos,” but rather the “Terrible Two and a Halves.”  It never fails.  They reach their half birthday and they become a little less fun to be around and more trouble and cantankerous.  Take today for example, I can not just pick something out for C to wear gladly.  No.  She has to pick it out herself and if the shirt that she wants is in the wash?  Watch out.

My biggest frustration and hers is when C is trying to tell me something and I don’t understand her.  This. Drives. Me. Crazy.  So many times she will just cry and scream at me instead of trying to tell me what she needs, wants, etc.  This behavior ultimately gets her a one way ticket to time out land.  She does pretty good in time out, meaning she stays put and is much better when she is “released.”  I just wish I didn’t have to put her in it as many times as I have to sometimes.

Parenting is hard, yo.