Someone Hit Me With a Tranquilizer Dart

It may sound conceited to say that I almost never get angry at my daughter.  That I can count the number of times I've been really and truly mad at her on one hand.  Believe it or not, but it's the honest-to-god truth.  She's an extremely sweet kid, and I'm more prone to anxiety than anger, so for the last three years and eleven months our home has been reletively peaceful.

Today, though...  Well, let's just say that I might have to start up a second hand for my counting.  Grr.

Last week we got a membership at the Y, and I loved it.  The gym was amazing, I could take all the classes I want for free, and the best part was that they have free childcare for up to two hours a day while parents work out.

Up until this week, Sydney loved going into the playroom while I worked out.  She'd cry when I came to pick her up because she was having so much fun and didn't want to leave after only a half an hour or so.

Fast forward to now.  For some reason, Sydney has done a complete one-eighty and absolutely refuses to go in there.  I'm not even sure how many times now I've gotten all ready to go, gotten Syd ready, and driven to the Y only to have her let loose a torrent of rage the second we begin walking to the playroom door.  Screaming and kicking and thrashing.  Yet somehow, the second I tell her we're leaving, she stops and says "Okay!" with a big smile.

Mergath, you're probably saying, just stick her in there anyway and she'll stop once you're out of sight!

Oh, how I wish I could.  But their policy is that if your child is crying for more than a minute or so, they come and get you to pick them up.  So if she decides she doesn't feel like going in there for half an hour, all she has to do is begin the screaming and I can't drop her off.  Whether she really doesn't feel like going or this is some sort of power struggle on her part, I don't know, but it's really, really making me mad.

I'm getting mad all over again just typing this.

So now it looks like I may as well cancel my membership, because with the hubby working a million hours a week, there's no one that can watch her while I go and work out.

I'm trying to calm down, to ground and center and breathe and go to my happy place, but it's just not happening.  All I can think about is how my me-time, the three or four times a week I get to run on the treadmill and watch House Hunters and destress, is done, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Aaaaaarrrrrgghh.