Lunatic Child surpassed himself in naughtiness last Friday, and on a playdate as well. Now we can never play with them again. The mum thinks I am a complete psycho, as I completely lost my sh*t and was reduced to muttering wild-eyed threats in Lunatic Child's ear as he shrieked while I held him down and attempted to clean plague cheeto out of his mouth.
Let me explain...
We met another toddler and his mum at the Central Park Zoo. Even though it was a lovely, sunny day and Lunatic Child normally enjoys the zoo, last Friday was apparently not our day. We started at the penguin exhibit.
"Don't like the penguins. Little bit scared."
Even though the other nice little boy was enjoying the penguins, we left. Apparently, penguins are threatening.
We went to the monkey exhibit.
"Don't like the monkeys". There was no reason given for this. He just doesn't.
He then sprinted up the hill and into the middle distance, with me puffing along behind, 5 months pregnant. I finally ran him to ground and wrestled him back into the push chair, which he didn't like either.
No one was happy at this stage, and I hadn't even said 2 words to the other mum as I had been wholly consumed by my recalcitrant child.
We went to the bird exhibit where he chased the birds around despite my increasingly shrill exhortations and threats of eternal banishment to the push chair.
Meanwhile, please note that the other nice little boy had been perfectly behaved, wanted to see each exhibit, walked quietly with his mum and did not chase the birds.
The other nice little boy's favourite thing is to watch the sea lions being fed, so we turned up early to get a good viewing space. This is really where it all went to pot. We gave the children snacks. Nice little boy sat quietly and ate his snack. Lunatic Child wanted to eat his snack and climb up the stairs. And down the stairs. And up the stairs. And down the stairs. And then sprint into the middle distance. By this stage I was red and frothing.
We were at the bottom of the stairs, and I was attempting to coax Lunatic Child back to our seating area. There were about 50 people standing around us. Lunatic Child spots a cheeto lying on the ground next to the sea lion enclosure. A disgusting, crusty cheeto which has been lying there for God knows how long, collecting who knows what kind of germs. He announces: "I need that". And before I can get to him, he picks it up, shoves it into his mouth and starts chewing. Cue crowd laughter.
I am SO CONSCIOUS of this other mum just looking at me while I try to scrape the plague cheeto out of Lunatic Child's mouth. He's shrieking. People are enjoying our impromptu show. I'm muttering that he is GOING TO BE SORRY. (He was not). It was just a complete disaster.
We left the zoo in complete disarray and retreated to the playground, where Lunatic Child played happily and quietly in the sandbox for 45 minutes. I know he's only 2. They are just SO NAUGHTY sometimes.
I didn't even tell you about the recent party we attended where he snuck behind the buffet table and climbed up on a chair and proceeded to stuff cupcakes in his mouth one after the other until Fun Daddy and I finally realised he was missing (we are negligent, bad parents is really the moral of this tale). I think he got through 3.
In any event, he suffered no ill effects, from either the cupcake overdose or the plague cheeto, so we will continue to persevere. Some days are good. Some days are...challenging. We all still love each other and that's all that counts!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Trouble...
Oh dear. Harried Mum hasn't posted in a while. This is for a variety of not particularly good reasons, the most interesting of which is that I'm pregnant. Yes. Lunatic Child is going to get a sibling on or about June 26. I'm already calling this one Trouble, as I suspect that's what I'm going to be in when trying to cope with 2 of them.
Trouble has provided a very different pregnancy experience than Lunatic Child. I sailed through pregnancy with Lunatic Child, including multiple overseas trips into my 32nd week of pregnancy. I had no morning sickness at all and generally felt pretty OK.
This did not stop me from CONSTANTLY moaning throughout my entire pregnancy with Lunatic Child. I don't enjoy pregnancy. I don't "glow". I'm not "blooming". I'm not feeling the high involved with creating life. For me, it's all about the fat ankles, ridiculous boobs and myriad indignities that pregnancy brings. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I mean, isn't it bad enough you can't get off the couch without saying "oof"? Do you really have to be constipated as well? It's all so UNFAIR.
Despite all the snivelling, I knew Lunatic Child was an easy pregnancy. In contrast, I had a miserable first trimester with Trouble. And by miserable, I mean that I felt a bit sick and tired. (See above, re: moaning). It was like I was constantly hung over for 3 months. If it was socially acceptable to subsist on macaroni and cheese, I would have. I also wanted to nap. A lot. Hence, no blogging.
I'm feeling much better now. I'm also happy I'm finally out of the "Has she just got a bit fat, or is she pregnant?" stage. I'm not happy about maternity jeans. I mean, seriously. Can no one make a pair that don't immediately fall off your butt the first time you sit down?
As I am older now and in the "decrepit maternal age" category, and also because I'm having Trouble in the U.S., I have been bemused by the differences in pre-natal care. I've given a lot more blood to the cause. I've peed in a lot more cups. I've generally been poked and prodded and tested a lot more. I see the obstetrician at every appointment as opposed to a midwife or nurse practitioner. Additionally, and scandalously, we are going to be hundreds if not thousands of dollars out-of-pocket with Trouble, and this despite Fun Daddy having "comprehensive" insurance through work. Seriously, US. Get your sh*t together on the healthcare front. It's ridiculous.
My obstetrician is nice, but very firm. After she weighed me on the second visit, she basically told me to lay off the cake, fatty. In pretty much those exact words. Sadly, she was probably right about this, as last week, I broke one of our kitchen chairs when I sat on it. I was leaning over to prevent Lunatic Child from some wanton act of self-destruction, when the whole front leg gave way. I told Fun Daddy, looking for some love and sympathy. Instead I've had a lot of "who ate all the pie" jokes made at my expense. Pregnancy. It's just not dignified.
Trouble has provided a very different pregnancy experience than Lunatic Child. I sailed through pregnancy with Lunatic Child, including multiple overseas trips into my 32nd week of pregnancy. I had no morning sickness at all and generally felt pretty OK.
This did not stop me from CONSTANTLY moaning throughout my entire pregnancy with Lunatic Child. I don't enjoy pregnancy. I don't "glow". I'm not "blooming". I'm not feeling the high involved with creating life. For me, it's all about the fat ankles, ridiculous boobs and myriad indignities that pregnancy brings. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I mean, isn't it bad enough you can't get off the couch without saying "oof"? Do you really have to be constipated as well? It's all so UNFAIR.
Despite all the snivelling, I knew Lunatic Child was an easy pregnancy. In contrast, I had a miserable first trimester with Trouble. And by miserable, I mean that I felt a bit sick and tired. (See above, re: moaning). It was like I was constantly hung over for 3 months. If it was socially acceptable to subsist on macaroni and cheese, I would have. I also wanted to nap. A lot. Hence, no blogging.
I'm feeling much better now. I'm also happy I'm finally out of the "Has she just got a bit fat, or is she pregnant?" stage. I'm not happy about maternity jeans. I mean, seriously. Can no one make a pair that don't immediately fall off your butt the first time you sit down?
As I am older now and in the "decrepit maternal age" category, and also because I'm having Trouble in the U.S., I have been bemused by the differences in pre-natal care. I've given a lot more blood to the cause. I've peed in a lot more cups. I've generally been poked and prodded and tested a lot more. I see the obstetrician at every appointment as opposed to a midwife or nurse practitioner. Additionally, and scandalously, we are going to be hundreds if not thousands of dollars out-of-pocket with Trouble, and this despite Fun Daddy having "comprehensive" insurance through work. Seriously, US. Get your sh*t together on the healthcare front. It's ridiculous.
My obstetrician is nice, but very firm. After she weighed me on the second visit, she basically told me to lay off the cake, fatty. In pretty much those exact words. Sadly, she was probably right about this, as last week, I broke one of our kitchen chairs when I sat on it. I was leaning over to prevent Lunatic Child from some wanton act of self-destruction, when the whole front leg gave way. I told Fun Daddy, looking for some love and sympathy. Instead I've had a lot of "who ate all the pie" jokes made at my expense. Pregnancy. It's just not dignified.
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