A really, really, REALLY bad day.

I read once that little girls are all energy and determination. Which is a nice way of saying they want to get their own way and they have the stamina to make it happen.

Evie came out of the womb this way. The nurses all joked about it being too late to put her back and I laughed politely. It took a few months to realize the joke was on me.

My daughter has never been a good sleeper. Ever. When she was a newborn, she had reflux that kept her up at night and caused these horrible choking fits...which meant that even when she WAS sleeping, I wasn't. I was too busy staring at her.

She's gone through phases over the years, but none as bad as what we're currently dealing with in her "terrible two's." An insufficient alliteration if I've ever heard one.

Evie gets out of her bed at night. A lot. She used to come out of her room right away, until she figured out that was the quickest way to get busted. Now she stays in there for up to fifteen minutes at a time (which is as long as she can stand to be contained anywhere) before finally opening her door.

At first, she would make a lot of racket while she played, but (again) she quickly learned that noise alerted the parental units that much sooner. Now she's sneaky-like.

And I use the term "play" very loosely since she doesn't actually have toys in her bedroom. So what does she do to entertain herself, you ask? Well, at various times I have burst into Evie's room and caught her:

• Standing in the middle of the room, completely naked.
• Standing in the middle of the room, wearing a dress or some other outfit she pulled out of her closet (as opposed to the pajamas I laid her down in).
• Sitting in her rocking chair "reading" a book that she had somehow retrieved from the top shelf of the hutch over her very tall dresser.
• Pulling the last piece of bedding from her mattress and throwing it on the floor.
• Hiding in her closet.
• Hiding behind her rocking chair.
• Pouring the entire bottle of lotion (that somehow got left in her room) onto the carpet.
• Standing on the edge of her bed railing and jumping to the floor.
• Standing on the edge of her dresser and...well, just standing there.
• Kicking the wall.
• Emptying the contents of her closet.
• Emptying the contents of her dresser.

The list goes on and on, but suffice to say that my daughter has found many creative ways to pass the time in a relatively empty room. And if that's all she did, I might be able to handle that. The room is super-baby-proofed, so I'm not too concerned about her hurting herself. And if I were to walk in the next morning and find her asleep on a pile of bedding on the floor wearing nothing but a dress that we bought for her church dedication at six months old...then who am I to complain? At least she SLEPT!

But no, she has to actually come out of her room. Sometimes she makes a mad dash before I can get upstairs and I end up searching the entire second floor before I find her rifling through the drawers in the master bathroom. And if you think that's bad, imagine what she could do with the rest of the house! I'll give you a hint...I've had to call poison control for Evie no less than FOUR times in her short life.

Off the top of my head, I can name at least three culprits: baby bath soap, children's sunscreen (which, apparently, contains Aspirin of all things), and a small packet of Tylenol from a first aid kit. And that's not counting the toothpaste she gorged on or the Windex she squirted in her own eyes.

Obviously, this child cannot be left unattended for a nano-second.

Today was day three that Evie refused to take a nap, following literally months of bedtime battles. And believe you me; Evie Grace needs her naps or else Evie-zilla makes an appearance by 5pm.

So I decided to make my stand this afternoon. Remember the Alamo? I didn't.

I told Evie that every time she got out of bed, she would be punished. She nodded in clear understanding. A few minutes later, I heard some banging around. I went back in to see her putting on a completely different set of pajamas.

So I disciplined her and laid her back in bed.

A few minutes later, I heard her banging around. I walked in to see her reading a book....in the buff.

So I disciplined her and laid her back in bed.

A few minutes later, I heard her banging around. I walked in to see her running laps around her room...in the buff.

So I disciplined her and laid her back in bed.

Etcetera, etcerera.

Finally, I decided to bring in a pillow and lay on the floor next to her bed, reasoning that she would be too intimidated by my presence to disobey. Riiiiiight...

That didn't work, and she was starting to get hysterical from crying. It had come down to a battle of wills.

"I wanna go pee-pee on da toy-wet!"

"No you don't, Evie, you just want out of bed."

"I WANNA GO PEE-PEE ON DA TOY-WET!!"

"Just go in your diaper like you do all day. You're NOT getting out of bed."

"Don't wanna go pee-pee in my diaper. I wanna go pee-pee on...da...TOY-*deep breath*-WEEEET!"

"No."

Every "no" made her angrier and angrier until she was screaming at the top of her lungs and flailing her limbs. And getting out of bed.

I decided to squeeze next to her in bed, thinking I could cuddle her and calm her down enough to start being reasonable. Riiiiight....

She kept demanding to use the toilet, but I stood firm. She started getting more agitated than I'd ever seen her, thrashing around in bed like some pint-sized lunatic, screaming at the top of her lungs and still trying to get out of bed. It was as if she were incapable of holding still for even a fraction of a second.

My determination settled in then, and I decided I would win this battle if it (she) killed me.

She was flailing so badly, that I eventually had to hold her hands at her side in an effort to settle her down. This is when I learned that an upset toddler has 2.5 times the strength of a full-grown adult.

She got even more out of control, so I did the only thing I could think of. I turned her on her side and pulled her back into my chest. Then I wrapped my arms and legs around hers and gently, but firmly, held her still.

She completely lost it. Not sad, mind you. Just furious.

She strained against me, screaming and grunting until her voice was hoarse.

After having to do this a couple of times, she finally agreed to be a good girl and told me (rather rudely) to "Get ow mah bed."

When I finally left her room, she immediately fell asleep. I'd take credit, but I'm pretty sure she simply exhausted herself.

I immediately called my husband at work and told him what had happened. As always, he was a beacon of wisdom.

"It sounds like she's possessed!"

(sigh)

When he pulled into the drive an hour and a half later, she was still sleeping.

"So how's Linda Blair doing?"

"Will you stop calling her that!"

I went upstairs to wake her and she seemed to be her normal, sweet, slightly-groggy self. She cuddled in my arms all the way down the stairs.

Chris started in right away...

"Evie, say 'Jesus'." He looked at me, "Demons hate that."

Of course, Evie was still feeling contrary.

"No."

"Evie, please just say 'Jesus'!"

"No."

I tried to help..."Evie, sing 'Jesus Loves Me'."

"No."

Chris looked like he was actually starting to believe his little joke, so I went along with it. "I guess I shouldn't have let her play with that Ouija board yesterday."

"Very funny, Steph." He paused..."Should I rebuke her in the name of Jesus?"

I shrugged. "It couldn't hurt."

I love messing with his mind.

He held her by the shoulders. "I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ."

She blinked up at him.

"Now say 'Jesus', Evie."

"No."

Then, out of sheer desperation...

"If you say Jesus, I'll give you some chocolate."

"Jesus love me, this I knooow..."

So we might or might not have had an exorcism in our house today. Only time will tell...



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