Flying Projectiles

I hate laundry. I hate it so much that I will let it pile up all week until there is a huge mound of clothing that blocks the path from my bed to the bathroom. Then, in moment of pure disgust (usually on a Sunday), I throw everything in the washing machine at once and leave while it wobbles furiously from being overloaded. But I digress...

I had about a month's worth of Alex's clothes that I needed to put away, so I lugged her upstairs. She rarely spends time in her room unless she's sleeping, so she loves the opportunity to explore when I let her. So I gather the basket of clothes, and lay all the empty hangers around me on the floor.

Mistake Number 1: Choosing to sort the laundry on the floor. As soon as something is laying neatly, she feels the urge to pull at it (usually whatever is at the BOTTOM of the stack).

Mistake Number 2: Assuming that her room will keep her occupied for over ten minutes. I am dealing with the daughter of the poster child for ADD. After chewing on assorted blocks, pulling all the stuffed animals off the bookcase, pulling over the diaper hamper and climbing up the changing table, the whole "Alex's Room" situation was pretty much played out.

Mistake Number 3: Putting hangers within a one-year-old's reach. She is inexplicably drawn to hangers for some reason. Maybe it's the shape, maybe it's something new, maybe it's the taboo because Mommy constantly takes them away and says "no no."

But I knew exactly when she'd had enough of it, because it came hurtling at the back of my head. With a shriek I turned to regard my previously passive daughter, who obviously found the sound funny because she erupted into the beautiful sound of tinkly childhood laughter. I, however, did NOT find it funny.

"NO." I barked. "No ma'am!" With that, the laughter quickly stopped, the smile faded, and slowly the face transformed into the huge pout that always precedes the crying. Immediately I regretted my tone and did exactly what I swore I would never do. I gathered her into my arms and kissed her until the smile came back. A few moments later I was rewarded with another hanger in the back of the head.

So the true trials of motherhood have begun. She's only one; how do I teach her that throwing things at her mother is not socially acceptable (unless you have a horribly dysfunctional family) ? I know this is just one of many issues I will face in my life, but now that I'm faced with them, what I SAID I was going to do is going to be a LOT harder than I thought...