MOVE IT!

One of my biggest pet peeves of parenting is the lack of urgency my daughter has. She has none. Of course I don't blame her at all. Really why would she? She doesn't care about time. She's 3...but that doesn't mean it's not unbelievably frustrating. I'd like to think of myself as calm, patient, and even keeled. But I'm a natural work now, play later sort of person. I'm a first born and I act like it. I like organization, multitasking and getting ish done. It's very easy for me to 'get in the zone' whether it's prepping to leave the house, tidying up a room or completing a jigsaw puzzle (don't you judge). So when little miss lalygagger interrupts my flow, it sends me through the roof.
I can actually feel my blood pressure rise and choke the sense out of me...and it takes so much self control not to boil over. I generally have three reactions once the first attempt at movement is lost, not necessarily in this order:

The ventriloquist. This is usually done face to face. The volume level of my voice is barely audible but the tell tale sign is the lack of movement of my lips. Oh, I'm speaking alright. But the clench of my jaw is so forceful so as to restrain the explosion of irritability that would otherwise be spewing out onto surrounding surfaces.

The clap. Generally a secondary method and more of a scare tactic, the clap allows me to emphasis
EVE-RY.
SIN-GLE.
SYL-LA-BLE.
CO-MING.
OUT.
OF.
MY.
MOUTH 
with a corresponding thunderous conjoining of my hands (don't mistake this with applause).

The Mariah Carey. The piercing shriek of my own voice is enough to make me want to roll over and die. Much like the feeling I get listening to the sound of my own voice on someone's voice mail. Ugggh. The shrilling desperation I hear ringing in my eardrums while I max out my vocal cord range, pleading with my toddler to MOVE IT, is sometimes more embarrassment than I can handle. Yet I still do it...and it doesn't sound nearly as good as Mariah Carey.

Did you laugh? Did you smile?
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