Tiger Mom...how about Taser Mom?

"Don't taze me, Mom!" I'm totally kidding. Recently there has been some controversy about some parenting book called 'Tiger Mom' or something. I wish I could tell you more than I heard people thought it was extreme, but I'm too busy wrangling my own toddler to listen to more than what is discussed in the news segment on Howard Stern. It sounds good though, lately my little angel has been pushing me to the limit. I knew the toddler years wouldn't be easy, especially after having an easy infant, but whoa, I'm ready to sterilize myself with a melon baller. So, I'm wondering if there's a chapter in the Tiger Mom book that can help me with my wild little lady.

Take for instance, grocery shopping. It needs to get done. We need to eat. My husband isn't home regularly enough and hates shopping with me. We always walk out with a cart full of juice boxes and Oreos when he comes, so it's just Haley and me. Well, Haley decided she wasn't going to sit in the cart anymore. She wanted to ride in one of those unwieldly car carts. That's fine. It worked for awhile. Then she would unbuckle herself and jump out. Next, she insisted on sitting (standing) in the big part of the cart. That would be fine if a)she wasn't 40lbs and 39" tall and b)I never have to buy anything that can break/explode when she launches it out of the cart.

This week I was desparate. We had tried shopping yesterday, and I let her bring in her tape measure, her current favorite toy. Well, she decided to pull out about 4 feet of tape and start tapping our fellow shoppers. We left quickly without getting most of our groceries. Today I needed to get things done. I did what any good mom would do. I bribed her with pastries. A bagful of munchkins to be exact.

That actually got her into the top part of the cart and I belted her in, rushing through the store while she chomped away. Finally she announces, "I'm done" and hands me the crumpled up bag. Her face and jacket are coated in white sugar powder. I reach for a napkin in my purse and bam! Here comes Crazy McSatan. "LET ME OUT! I WANT TO GET OUT!" She starts screaming at the top of her lungs. I tell her no, and she starts screaming and crying very real tears. People are now turning to see if I'm beating my kid when I'm just trying to clean her up. I don't get to wipe her down, because she has unbuckled herself and is now standing in the top of the cart. I grab her and set her on the ground. Making her promise to help me push the cart and we take off, me with one hand on her, one on the cart, and trying to prioritize my remaining shopping list. I make the decision to just grab my milk and head for the checkout. Now we're at the cooler. How can I open the case, grab the milk on the top shelf, and hold onto Haley? I can't. I make her put two hands on the cart and try to quickly grab the milk. It doesn't happen. She lets out a wild giggle and takes off, cutting to the right and sprinting down an aisle. I throw the milk into the cart and sprint after her.

Imagine this: Haley covered in white powder, giggling like a maniac and yelling "Mommy, chase me!" as she races down the aisle. Here comes Mom running after her. I imagine this is what it must be like to hang out with Charlie Sheen. Mom is wearing Uggs and skinny jeans, which are not really conduicive to getting some good speed. I finally tackle her (yes, I grabbed her and we slid onto the ground)threw her under my arm and trekked back to our cart. My adrenaline rush has worn off and I realize there's no way I can carry her and push the cart. I hold her hand firmly and tell her we're going to head home and if she ever wants to see her precious Elmo video again she will hold onto the cart.

We make it out to the car. I am loading her into her seat when she leans over and cries, "My tape measure, my tape measure." I was smart enough to leave it in the car this time, but dumb enough to fall for her next move. She rolled over the car seat onto the seat and starts jumping around the car. I shut the door and just stand back for a second. Haley is now jumping from back to front. I make my move as she's climbing onto the front console. I hustle her into the seat and buckle her in. I've lost it. I've lost control over my own child. And I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose my mind next. I take a few deep breaths and we drive home.

We unpack the groceries and have lunch. Haley starts asking to go to the Bass Pro Shop to see the bear and the turtles (where her father had offered to take her before he was called into work). I must have had my mind erased by my lunch, so I agree to take her with the hope that it will tire her out enough for a long nap. We have a pretty uneventful trip. She didn't even try to jump into the trout stream. Then we get back upstairs to make our exit and she's off again. Now I am sprinting though the bows and arrows and wishing I was in the section with the giant fishing nets so I could contain this little wild woman. Hmmm....do they have any blowdarts here?

We make it home and Haley passes out. I catch up on some housework and then peek in on my sleeping girl. She looks so sweet and precious. I lay down beside her and I fell asleep too. A few minutes later Haley is shaking me awake. "Good boy, Mommy Cow" she says as she pats me on the head. "You were a good boy today."