Devil child

I kind of pride myself on being a "non-yelling" parent. If anything, I'm more of the goofy kind. I like to use humor and silliness to get done what needs to get done. It used to work. Here's how my day went on Thursday and how I was on the verge of tears ready to exchange my broken child for a new one that works.
We went to the mall with Aimee and Rylan and had a great time. We ate lunch together, and things were going just fine. I had a couple of stores to go in, so we said our goodbyes and did our shopping. Melody asked ever so sweetly if she could go on the carousel. I told her she could, especially since she was such a good girl the whole day. She was wonderful in the stores I had to go in, and I even bought her a special book. So we go to the carousel right before we go home.
I get closer and see the big CLOSED sign hanging on the ticket counter. Uh-oh... so I crouch down eye to eye with Melody to break the news to her. Her little chin dropped down, her eyes got wide and she looked at me as if I had just broken her heart. I actually may have, but this is one situation that I truly cannot do anything about. I tell her all the things you would say to comfort a kid that can't go on a ride they wanted.
Melody ponders all this for about 2 seconds, then starts yelling at the top of her lungs (in the big echo-ey mall) "NO MOMMY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY MOMMY!!!" She then walks over to me and starts punching me in the leg. Now my blood is boiling, as all the Mom's in the play area are looking at me to see what I'll do next. I firmly tell her that we do not hit, and we do not behave like this and now we're going home. So now the screams go from words to just plain screeches of painful noise. She is still punching me, and has now added kicking and attempted biting. I grab her by her midsection in a football hold and start to carry her out of the mall as quickly as I can. I get to the door, and I cannot control the stroller and the screaming child, so there is a very nice woman that offers to hold the stroller for me while I try to wrangle her into it. I get her in the stroller so I can race her to the car, while she's still screaming with all of her might. I thank the woman as she tells me she's "been there" also. That's comforting for about 10 seconds, and I run to the car. I barely get to the car and my little Houdini has managed to wriggle herself out of the stroller straps and decides to jump out of the stroller in the parking garage. I drop everything I have to grab her (while she is still screaming, hitting, kicking, attempted biting, and she has now added scratching). There is a woman wrestling her 3 kids out of the car next to me on the side that Melody's car seat is, so I open the other side back door and "throw" her into the back seat while I go and pick up all of my belongings scattered in the parking garage. I now take a minute to catch my breath, and call my sister to vent/get advice/let Melly chill out.
Carol helps me out by telling me all the things that I know, but it helps so much to hear. "She's testing you, she's pushing the limits, she's trying to get a reaction out of you, you need to put her in her place and let her know this doesn't work" All of these things that you hear people say or read them in a book, but it is still amazing how different, and unprepared you are when it actually happens. I swear demons had taken over my child, and she may have actually spit fire at me and had daggers come flying out from her eyes.
Ten minutes go by of Melody freaking out in the back seat of the car. Then I attempt to get her in the car seat. She is still trying to win the featherweight title on me, and I'm holding her down with one arm, grabbing her hands with another, trying to pull the straps out of her death grip, I even used my teeth to hold a strap while trying to buckle it. After 10 minutes of that, a gallon of sweat pouring from my face, I got 3/4 of the straps on. Her face is so red I think it might explode, so I leave her to her screeching for another few minutes before going back in to finish the job of buckling the seat. This would make the total time in the parking lot 20 minutes so far. Now, 30 minutes in, she's still freaking out, I go back to get that last buckle (even if it kills me), and I'm successful. I get in the car and drive home, while yelling at my child from the front seat. Now that I have her without the judging eyes of the parking garage, I yelled, and yelled, then yelled some more. I yelled until my face was red. She cried, I yelled, she cried louder, I yelled louder. All the way home.
We get home, and now she's crying and screaming to stay in the car. Lucky for me, it's easier to get her out than in, so I football carried her once again into the house, direct deposit into her room and close the door. She still hasn't figured out how to open a doorknob yet, so this tactic still mostly works. I tell her she's stuck in there until she can calm down and talk. Well, my little stubborn demon child screamed in there for another 30 minutes! This would make the total scream time about an hour and a half. She really is determined!
She eventually calmed down, I chatted with her, told her she's old enough to have a punishment for acting that way. No TV or shows for the rest of the day, and no story before nap. That brought on more tears, but there wasn't the same passion behind it. I could get her into bed and she cried herself to sleep.
Then, miraculously, the demons went away while she slept, because she woke up and told me, "Mommy, I forgot to tell you something." I ask her what that was, and she says, "I'm sorry and I love you!" Now that's the Melody that I know!