Call the FBI. (Updated)

I think I am being held hostage.

Ok, mabye not hostage, but definitely against my will.

I have been stuck inside all day with Little Miss Crankypants, a.k.a my Beautiful Daughter. Her mood is not her usual bright and cheerful one that we all have come to love. Instead, it is dark and pissy. She does not want to eat. She does not want to sleep. She does not want milk, or juice. She only wants to cry.

I feel like I have a newborn again. Even the very minor of offenses are making her explode into a roar of tears and wailing. She knows how to speak to be understood, yet she is refusing to use her words. In turn, this has made me feel like the worst mother alive. I am doubting all remaining bits of parental self-confidence that I have. As a result of all this bitching and moaning, I am drained. Perhaps I should try to lay my head down while my daughter spends some quiet time* in her crib. Everything will be better later. It has to be.

*Quiet time in her crib is actually not so quiet. She does not want to nap, so she is supposed to stay in there until I feel that her whimpers and cries have turned into non-stop fury. Yeah. Mama needs a break.

Update:

Mama did get a break, sort of. She never actually laid down for a nap. She finally cranked up to full volume and I had to go get her out of the crib. I popped a cup of milk in her hands and turned on Elmo while we chilled on the couch. Fortunately for the both of us, she fell asleep in my arms, where she stayed for about an hour. I turned the TV off, and sat in silence. All was ok for those brief moments. Now it’s back to the real world.