I know. I know. I already have the job of Mommy. But I tell you what. Harried Mum has been longing to return to the safe confines of corporate law, which is easy to do compared to negotiating with Lunatic Child over the wearing of coat, hat and gloves EVERY MORNING, or convincing Trouble that he needs to nap longer than 20 minutes at a go. I am losing what is left of my mind, people.
To that end, I suited up to go to a second interview yesterday. This was a disaster. Lunatic Child, who is no dummy, instantly knew something was up and responded by making as huge as fuss as possible over getting changed, getting dressed, wanting to have a second chance at breakfast, leaving behind his toy car when leaving for school, not taking one bite out of an apple and leaving it in the fruit bowl, etc... The babysitter, who is usually so placid, was getting a bit wild eyed.
Meanwhile, I was discovering that my suit no longer fit (who knew that eating Halloween Candy every night since October would have such negative consequences?). I couldn't find any stockings. The shirt I wanted to wear wasn't ironed. What, lack of preparedness has consequences? Unpossible.
Trouble, catching the general vibe of barely controlled panic, started to wail. Babysitter was wrestling Lunatic Child into his coat, hat and gloves, which basically involves sitting on him. I was reluctant to pick Trouble up (poor baby) as I had finally shoehorned myself into the blasted suit, and Trouble is a guaranteed vomiter whenever you lift him up from a prone position.
And I thought to myself, "I bet Kate Middleton will never have to put up with this sh*t." Which, of course, she won't, since her only jobs are to look pretty and produce heirs to the throne. Sadly, no one offered me an interview, second or otherwise, for those jobs, so off I schlepped.
After all the sturm and drang, I was not feeling my professional best, but future employer seems to be willing to overlook my slightly disheveled appearance and I am shortly going to be starting as the new General Counsel for Mitsui Precious Metals. Hooray!!!
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
My baby...
Fun Daddy and I took Lunatic Child to nursery school on Friday. The teachers were a bit late so we were all waiting outside.
All the other nice children were standing holding their parents' hands. Waiting quietly.
Lunatic Child would not hold our hands. He ran up the ramp to the door. Then back down the ramp. Then back up the ramp. Etc. A nanny kept commenting, "He sure has a lot of energy."
Then he spotted a little boy he likes. He got about an inch away from his face and yelled, "Hi Pooper!!!" The little boy's name is actually Cooper, but Lunatic Child mixes up his Cs and Ps. They are, for example, Mini Poopers and Cupcapes. Also, he is a personal space invader, but we're working on it. I explained this to Cooper's father, but he didn't seem to see the humor in it.
Then one of the teachers shows up. Lunatic Child announces to everyone, " I don't like Miss K."
The doors opened and Fun Daddy and I slunk away before Lunatic Child offended anyone else.
I Iove him so much. He has so much personality. Whatever he is, or whatever he's going to be, Lunatic Child is never going to be shy about letting us know.
All the other nice children were standing holding their parents' hands. Waiting quietly.
Lunatic Child would not hold our hands. He ran up the ramp to the door. Then back down the ramp. Then back up the ramp. Etc. A nanny kept commenting, "He sure has a lot of energy."
Then he spotted a little boy he likes. He got about an inch away from his face and yelled, "Hi Pooper!!!" The little boy's name is actually Cooper, but Lunatic Child mixes up his Cs and Ps. They are, for example, Mini Poopers and Cupcapes. Also, he is a personal space invader, but we're working on it. I explained this to Cooper's father, but he didn't seem to see the humor in it.
Then one of the teachers shows up. Lunatic Child announces to everyone, " I don't like Miss K."
The doors opened and Fun Daddy and I slunk away before Lunatic Child offended anyone else.
I Iove him so much. He has so much personality. Whatever he is, or whatever he's going to be, Lunatic Child is never going to be shy about letting us know.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Hello again!
Hi all
Sorry it's been so long. Harried Mum is tired. So tired. Why didn't anyone tell me that having 2 small children is such hideously hard work? I am DYING to go back to corporate law. I would much rather deal with thorny legal problems and annoying clients than potty train my 2 year old. Ugh. To those mothers of my acquaintance who stay at home full time, I salute you. You are made of sterner material than I. If I have to clean out one more pair of pooped-in underpants, I am going to throw myself out the window.
Lunatic Child is a stubborn little mule, and is refusing to poop in the potty. He uses distraction techniques, "Mummy, I need a glass of water." And as soon as I have left the room, he does an enormous poo in his pants. Mind you, this is after I have asked him at least 50 times whether he needs to go. In desperation, I have purchased some extremely exciting toy cars and have positioned them just out of reach on the bookshelf. He may choose one, should he ever deign to go on the toilet. He is very interested in the toys, but so far no joy. Everyone tells me it just takes time. But who will crack first, Harried Mum or Lunatic Child?
Apparently, he pooped on the floor of the bathroom today at nursery school after informing the teacher he needed to go. She didn't seem impressed. I thought it was marvelous progress.
Lunatic Child is enjoying nursery school and is quite happy to tell me about his day.
I will ask, "What did your teachers teach you today?"
"Ms. K told me to be quiet."
I bet she did. God love him.
Meanwhile, Trouble is my sweet, placid, peaceful child. He cries when he's hungry or tired, and that's basically it. He spends his days being hauled around like a sack of potatoes in the Baby Bjorn, and he's quite happy to nap wherever and whenever. Poor younger child. There is no schedule. Very little bedtime routine. But he just goes with the flow. Lunatic Child helped give him a bath tonight. You can imagine how that went. Trouble didn't bat an eyelash as he was being splashed and shouted at. Later, I mopped the kitchen floor. Sigh.
Psycho Cat continues to be a neighbourhood talking point. She is so stupid that she won't run away from dogs, and I have twice come around the corner to find a dog owner incredulously watching as Psycho Cat comes walking straight up to their huge dog. She is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. She lets Lunatic Child dump shovels full of sand on her, which he does with great gusto.
Fun Daddy is out losing our life savings at poker tonight. It's 9:30. Both kids are asleep. I think I am going to bed. It is all excitement, all the time...
I am out.
Harried Mum
Sorry it's been so long. Harried Mum is tired. So tired. Why didn't anyone tell me that having 2 small children is such hideously hard work? I am DYING to go back to corporate law. I would much rather deal with thorny legal problems and annoying clients than potty train my 2 year old. Ugh. To those mothers of my acquaintance who stay at home full time, I salute you. You are made of sterner material than I. If I have to clean out one more pair of pooped-in underpants, I am going to throw myself out the window.
Lunatic Child is a stubborn little mule, and is refusing to poop in the potty. He uses distraction techniques, "Mummy, I need a glass of water." And as soon as I have left the room, he does an enormous poo in his pants. Mind you, this is after I have asked him at least 50 times whether he needs to go. In desperation, I have purchased some extremely exciting toy cars and have positioned them just out of reach on the bookshelf. He may choose one, should he ever deign to go on the toilet. He is very interested in the toys, but so far no joy. Everyone tells me it just takes time. But who will crack first, Harried Mum or Lunatic Child?
Apparently, he pooped on the floor of the bathroom today at nursery school after informing the teacher he needed to go. She didn't seem impressed. I thought it was marvelous progress.
Lunatic Child is enjoying nursery school and is quite happy to tell me about his day.
I will ask, "What did your teachers teach you today?"
"Ms. K told me to be quiet."
I bet she did. God love him.
Meanwhile, Trouble is my sweet, placid, peaceful child. He cries when he's hungry or tired, and that's basically it. He spends his days being hauled around like a sack of potatoes in the Baby Bjorn, and he's quite happy to nap wherever and whenever. Poor younger child. There is no schedule. Very little bedtime routine. But he just goes with the flow. Lunatic Child helped give him a bath tonight. You can imagine how that went. Trouble didn't bat an eyelash as he was being splashed and shouted at. Later, I mopped the kitchen floor. Sigh.
Psycho Cat continues to be a neighbourhood talking point. She is so stupid that she won't run away from dogs, and I have twice come around the corner to find a dog owner incredulously watching as Psycho Cat comes walking straight up to their huge dog. She is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. She lets Lunatic Child dump shovels full of sand on her, which he does with great gusto.
Fun Daddy is out losing our life savings at poker tonight. It's 9:30. Both kids are asleep. I think I am going to bed. It is all excitement, all the time...
I am out.
Harried Mum
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Coping with Trouble
It's been a while since Harried Mum has checked in. I have been learning to cope with Trouble and Lunatic Child. I am tired. My house is covered in jam and sand. But the children are fed and mostly clothed and in varying states of cleanliness. I am doing the best I can.
To be honest, it's mostly been fairly manageable, except for when it totally isn't.
One example. When Trouble was quite tiny and new, he was still horking up phlegm from his lungs. It was disgusting, and he wasn't doing it very well. He would choke and gasp and arch his back and it was quite alarming. So one afternoon, Trouble has one of those explosive baby poos that goes everywhere. I take Lunatic Child and Trouble upstairs so I can change Trouble. As I lie him down on the changing mat, he vomits copiously and starts horking up phlegm. I have to pick him up, covered in poo and vomit and try to comfort him while he's choking and gasping and wailing. I am covered in poo and vomit. My youngest child is in major distress. Meanwhile, Lunatic Child has wandered back downstairs (rookie error - Always Close the Stair Gate) and I can hear him thundering around downstairs shrieking and yelling "kitteh"!! at the top of his lungs. This almost always means he is doing unspeakable things to the cat, who is too stupid to get herself out of the way. For all I knew, he could have been lighting her on fire, or stabbing her with knives.
So that wasn't my greatest moment in parenting.
But most of the time, we muddle along through the day until Fun Daddy gets home, whereupon we each demur to the other, "No, really. You can bathe Lunatic Child tonight", because as everybody knows, babies are cake compared to a toddler. You don't realise this until you've been through a baby stage and have a toddler on hand to compare.
Or perhaps it's that Lunatic Child and Trouble appear to have very different personalities. Frankly, Trouble has been anything but, aside from the odd Exorcist Vomit and Exploda-poo. He's a very sweet tempered baby and is ridiculously easy to read. He cries because he's hungry, has done an Exploda-poo, has a bit of gas or is tired. He's giving me up to 6 hours a stretch at night. 6 hours!!! Lunatic Child didn't do that until 7 months as I recall. I am wishing that Trouble would go down earlier at night (he's still hanging out til around 11 before I can really get him down for the night) but, when you're sleeping from 11 til 5 with a newborn, you'll take it...
My biggest complaint about Trouble is that he does NOT like to be put down to sleep. I will rock him to sleep and wait and wait and wait, until I am sure that he is completely passed out. I will set him down as gently as a feather and INSTANTLY his eyes pop open and he gives me this reproachful look, like "how could you even THINK about doing that to me", and then starts fussing. Argh. As a consequence, he's spent a lot of time in the baby bjorn. I have been forced into attachment parenting with this one. Lunatic Child was never particularly snuggly and wanted to be put down to sleep almost from the beginning. Trouble is happiest sleeping on your chest.
Anyway, speaking of sleep. Lunatic Child is conspicuously not napping. We get that a lot these days. My track record on getting both children down for a nap at the same time is approximately 1 for 1000. I'd better go check him, as it's likely he's done his own enormous poo. He specialises in what we like to call the "Crap Nap", per my neighbour. You put him down. He goes quiet. You think all is well. Then he starts up again, singing and talking to himself. You go upstairs to check and are nearly gassed to death when you open his bedroom door. Result. No nap.
So toodles, noodles. Until next time.
To be honest, it's mostly been fairly manageable, except for when it totally isn't.
One example. When Trouble was quite tiny and new, he was still horking up phlegm from his lungs. It was disgusting, and he wasn't doing it very well. He would choke and gasp and arch his back and it was quite alarming. So one afternoon, Trouble has one of those explosive baby poos that goes everywhere. I take Lunatic Child and Trouble upstairs so I can change Trouble. As I lie him down on the changing mat, he vomits copiously and starts horking up phlegm. I have to pick him up, covered in poo and vomit and try to comfort him while he's choking and gasping and wailing. I am covered in poo and vomit. My youngest child is in major distress. Meanwhile, Lunatic Child has wandered back downstairs (rookie error - Always Close the Stair Gate) and I can hear him thundering around downstairs shrieking and yelling "kitteh"!! at the top of his lungs. This almost always means he is doing unspeakable things to the cat, who is too stupid to get herself out of the way. For all I knew, he could have been lighting her on fire, or stabbing her with knives.
So that wasn't my greatest moment in parenting.
But most of the time, we muddle along through the day until Fun Daddy gets home, whereupon we each demur to the other, "No, really. You can bathe Lunatic Child tonight", because as everybody knows, babies are cake compared to a toddler. You don't realise this until you've been through a baby stage and have a toddler on hand to compare.
Or perhaps it's that Lunatic Child and Trouble appear to have very different personalities. Frankly, Trouble has been anything but, aside from the odd Exorcist Vomit and Exploda-poo. He's a very sweet tempered baby and is ridiculously easy to read. He cries because he's hungry, has done an Exploda-poo, has a bit of gas or is tired. He's giving me up to 6 hours a stretch at night. 6 hours!!! Lunatic Child didn't do that until 7 months as I recall. I am wishing that Trouble would go down earlier at night (he's still hanging out til around 11 before I can really get him down for the night) but, when you're sleeping from 11 til 5 with a newborn, you'll take it...
My biggest complaint about Trouble is that he does NOT like to be put down to sleep. I will rock him to sleep and wait and wait and wait, until I am sure that he is completely passed out. I will set him down as gently as a feather and INSTANTLY his eyes pop open and he gives me this reproachful look, like "how could you even THINK about doing that to me", and then starts fussing. Argh. As a consequence, he's spent a lot of time in the baby bjorn. I have been forced into attachment parenting with this one. Lunatic Child was never particularly snuggly and wanted to be put down to sleep almost from the beginning. Trouble is happiest sleeping on your chest.
Anyway, speaking of sleep. Lunatic Child is conspicuously not napping. We get that a lot these days. My track record on getting both children down for a nap at the same time is approximately 1 for 1000. I'd better go check him, as it's likely he's done his own enormous poo. He specialises in what we like to call the "Crap Nap", per my neighbour. You put him down. He goes quiet. You think all is well. Then he starts up again, singing and talking to himself. You go upstairs to check and are nearly gassed to death when you open his bedroom door. Result. No nap.
So toodles, noodles. Until next time.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Trouble Arrives...
Some of you have been asking for details of Trouble's arrival. Here is the story!!
We decided I would be induced so that we had a measure of control over when I would be in hospital, given that we don't really have a lot of friends or family nearby who could look after Lunatic Child in the event we had to make a mad dash to the hospital at 2am.
Well, best laid plans and all that.
I checked into hospital at 5pm on Tuesday evening. The induction process starts with something called Cervadil, which is meant to "soften" the cervix. Then, the next morning, they start you on a Pitocin drip and that's supposed to get things going. There is a chance that the Cervadil can jumpstart labour.
So I got my Cervadil (not a nice process, nothing about childbirth really is, frankly) and settled in to watch a bit of Masterchef. Alas, the Cervadil jumpstarted my labour. I instantly started having contractions which steadily progressed over the next hour or so, at which point my water broke, and we were off to the races. I had to call Fun Daddy, who had gone home for the night, and tell him that he'd better get back to the hospital pretty quick. We ended up having to call our neighbours (who are super nice, and to whom we are FOREVER grateful). She came over to sit with Lunatic Child and Fun Daddy made a mad dash to the hospital.
By the time he got to the hospital, I was in a very primal place, having just been informed it was WAY too late for an epidural. I have never been particularly interested in natural childbirth. No one is going to give me any special award for enduring that sort of pain, and the point of the epidural is that you don't have to. Works for me.
Trouble was in a hurry though. The nurse checked me when I called Fun Daddy, and I was 3cm dilated. Fun Daddy probably got to the hospital within 45 minutes to an hour. I had Trouble 20 minutes after Fun Daddy arrived. The nurse was flustered and stressed and kept saying "but I just checked you, and you were only 3cm dilated!" Meanwhile, I'm screaming that I need to push. I mean, that baby was ON HIS WAY. My obstetrician didn't make it back to the hospital, and the flustered nurse had to call in some back up. Trouble arrived after about 2 pushes. It still feels surreal given that it took Lunatic Child a very leisurely 18 hours to make his way into the world. From Cervadil to Trouble was 5 hours...
Part of the reason Trouble arrived so quickly is that he is so, so tiny. He weighed 5lb, 13 oz and was 19 in (48cm) long. Lunatic Child, who was no giant in the baby stakes, was 6lb 5oz and 21 in. I make the little babies...He looks exactly like a little red walnut. Sweet baby. He's still all squishy newborn so it's hard to tell, but I think he will look like Fun Daddy and Lunatic Child.
Lunatic Child is pretty nonchalant about Trouble. Fun Daddy has been home on paternity leave, which is much more interesting than some new baby. Trouble also brought Lunatic Child lots of great presents, including a giant fire truck and some new Thomas equipment.
The bigger issue has been Queenie, or Psycho Cat. She's OBSESSED. The baby is so interesting and twitchy. She would like to eat him. We had to get a spray bottle. She's been squirted a lot and just keeps coming back for another sniff. I spend a lot of time checking for the cat and then shutting her in or out of various rooms. It's a right old pain in the *rse. Don't worry. Trouble will get his own back when he's big enough to make a grab for her. She'll learn.
We're all coping pretty well. Trouble is sleeping and eating well and I am so much more relaxed this time around. When he sleeps at night, so do I. I don't sit there and stare at him and check his breathing every 5 seconds. This means I'm getting a lot more sleep. I'm sure things will get a bit more hectic when Fun Daddy goes back to work, but so far it's been pretty relaxed.
Family starts to cycle through at the end of July, so we're looking forward to that! We wish that we could see everyone in London. We'll be back when we can. It might take me a while to work up the courage to take 2 kiddiwinkles on that long of a flight.
Love to all
Harried Mum, Fun Daddy, Lunatic Child, Trouble and Psycho Cat
We decided I would be induced so that we had a measure of control over when I would be in hospital, given that we don't really have a lot of friends or family nearby who could look after Lunatic Child in the event we had to make a mad dash to the hospital at 2am.
Well, best laid plans and all that.
I checked into hospital at 5pm on Tuesday evening. The induction process starts with something called Cervadil, which is meant to "soften" the cervix. Then, the next morning, they start you on a Pitocin drip and that's supposed to get things going. There is a chance that the Cervadil can jumpstart labour.
So I got my Cervadil (not a nice process, nothing about childbirth really is, frankly) and settled in to watch a bit of Masterchef. Alas, the Cervadil jumpstarted my labour. I instantly started having contractions which steadily progressed over the next hour or so, at which point my water broke, and we were off to the races. I had to call Fun Daddy, who had gone home for the night, and tell him that he'd better get back to the hospital pretty quick. We ended up having to call our neighbours (who are super nice, and to whom we are FOREVER grateful). She came over to sit with Lunatic Child and Fun Daddy made a mad dash to the hospital.
By the time he got to the hospital, I was in a very primal place, having just been informed it was WAY too late for an epidural. I have never been particularly interested in natural childbirth. No one is going to give me any special award for enduring that sort of pain, and the point of the epidural is that you don't have to. Works for me.
Trouble was in a hurry though. The nurse checked me when I called Fun Daddy, and I was 3cm dilated. Fun Daddy probably got to the hospital within 45 minutes to an hour. I had Trouble 20 minutes after Fun Daddy arrived. The nurse was flustered and stressed and kept saying "but I just checked you, and you were only 3cm dilated!" Meanwhile, I'm screaming that I need to push. I mean, that baby was ON HIS WAY. My obstetrician didn't make it back to the hospital, and the flustered nurse had to call in some back up. Trouble arrived after about 2 pushes. It still feels surreal given that it took Lunatic Child a very leisurely 18 hours to make his way into the world. From Cervadil to Trouble was 5 hours...
Part of the reason Trouble arrived so quickly is that he is so, so tiny. He weighed 5lb, 13 oz and was 19 in (48cm) long. Lunatic Child, who was no giant in the baby stakes, was 6lb 5oz and 21 in. I make the little babies...He looks exactly like a little red walnut. Sweet baby. He's still all squishy newborn so it's hard to tell, but I think he will look like Fun Daddy and Lunatic Child.
Lunatic Child is pretty nonchalant about Trouble. Fun Daddy has been home on paternity leave, which is much more interesting than some new baby. Trouble also brought Lunatic Child lots of great presents, including a giant fire truck and some new Thomas equipment.
The bigger issue has been Queenie, or Psycho Cat. She's OBSESSED. The baby is so interesting and twitchy. She would like to eat him. We had to get a spray bottle. She's been squirted a lot and just keeps coming back for another sniff. I spend a lot of time checking for the cat and then shutting her in or out of various rooms. It's a right old pain in the *rse. Don't worry. Trouble will get his own back when he's big enough to make a grab for her. She'll learn.
We're all coping pretty well. Trouble is sleeping and eating well and I am so much more relaxed this time around. When he sleeps at night, so do I. I don't sit there and stare at him and check his breathing every 5 seconds. This means I'm getting a lot more sleep. I'm sure things will get a bit more hectic when Fun Daddy goes back to work, but so far it's been pretty relaxed.
Family starts to cycle through at the end of July, so we're looking forward to that! We wish that we could see everyone in London. We'll be back when we can. It might take me a while to work up the courage to take 2 kiddiwinkles on that long of a flight.
Love to all
Harried Mum, Fun Daddy, Lunatic Child, Trouble and Psycho Cat
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Oops...
Lunatic Child and famille went to Great Grandma's house today. Great Grandma has a frog pond in the backyard. See if you can guess where this one is going...
If you guessed that Lunatic Child managed to fall into the pond in 3 minutes or less, you win a small prize.
Poor Lunatic Child. He just wanted to see the frogs. The pond is a sunken bathtub, and he was leaning over it in a precarious manner. I was waddling along behind him, and I told him to back away. Since he is 2, he immediately said no, turned around and backed away from me as I reached out to grab him, and the end result was that he tipped into the tub backwards. I could see his little shocked face as he sank slowly beneath the pond weed.
I hauled him out in about 5 seconds, but he was absolutely covered in pond goo, reeked to high heaven and was fairly well traumatised. Fun Daddy was SHOCKED at my negligent parenting and came storming over, saying "What are you doing?" Well, obviously, I'm letting him fall into the pond ON PURPOSE as I think it will be a Good Learning Experience. I mean, really. I'm a million months pregnant. I'm not moving that fast. I did my best. Worse things have happened to 2 year olds than being dunked in a stinky pond. He can work it out in therapy later. It will give him something to talk about.
After a bath, laundered clothes and a cookie, he was amazingly recovered and had a fantastic afternoon playing with his much older cousins. They tossed him around for several hours. I'm really surprised he didn't chuck it. He was so completely exhausted when we got him in the car.
I am fairly sure he's not permanently mentally scarred, so all's well that ends well. I think we'll be finding pond weed in various orifices for a few days however. That stuff is pernicious.
If you guessed that Lunatic Child managed to fall into the pond in 3 minutes or less, you win a small prize.
Poor Lunatic Child. He just wanted to see the frogs. The pond is a sunken bathtub, and he was leaning over it in a precarious manner. I was waddling along behind him, and I told him to back away. Since he is 2, he immediately said no, turned around and backed away from me as I reached out to grab him, and the end result was that he tipped into the tub backwards. I could see his little shocked face as he sank slowly beneath the pond weed.
I hauled him out in about 5 seconds, but he was absolutely covered in pond goo, reeked to high heaven and was fairly well traumatised. Fun Daddy was SHOCKED at my negligent parenting and came storming over, saying "What are you doing?" Well, obviously, I'm letting him fall into the pond ON PURPOSE as I think it will be a Good Learning Experience. I mean, really. I'm a million months pregnant. I'm not moving that fast. I did my best. Worse things have happened to 2 year olds than being dunked in a stinky pond. He can work it out in therapy later. It will give him something to talk about.
After a bath, laundered clothes and a cookie, he was amazingly recovered and had a fantastic afternoon playing with his much older cousins. They tossed him around for several hours. I'm really surprised he didn't chuck it. He was so completely exhausted when we got him in the car.
I am fairly sure he's not permanently mentally scarred, so all's well that ends well. I think we'll be finding pond weed in various orifices for a few days however. That stuff is pernicious.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
I wish....
I am finding keeping up with Lunatic Child difficult at the moment. The extra 30lbs and huge baby belly are major contributing factors, of course. It puts me in a wistful mood, and I was contemplating some of the things I am wishing for at the moment.
- I wish Lunatic Child would be still for one nanosecond. Just one. He can't even sit still when you're reading him a story or he is watching TV. He twitches. He wriggles. He writhes. He prods. He climbs. It is SO EXHAUSTING.
- I wish Lunatic Child would not profess his undying love for the kitten immediately prior to trying to step on her, kick her, grab her paws, poke her with a stick, drive his dump truck into her, etc. She is remarkably undaunted by this behavior and responds in kind by attacking his head whenever it's in reach, but still, I don't think he is really understanding the concept of "gentle", and there is going to be a new baby in the house in 4 weeks.
- I wish Lunatic Child would just sit and eat a meal instead of eating 2 bites of toast and then telling me he's made me a boat and therefore can't eat his masterpiece. Or spending 5 minutes attempting to get the perfect sized bite on his fork. "This is too big"! (Food is wiped off fork and onto placemat, or floor.) "This bite is too small"! (He then proceeds to put half his plate on the fork), leading to..."This bite is too big"! Rinse and repeat until I freak out. Or telling me that the only food he desires is a banana, and then eating one bite, only to conclude that he "doesn't like it".
- I wish Lunatic Child would not grunt out a denial that he is pooping whilst red faced and straining. He then runs away and hides rather than get his bum changed. When cornered and brought to the changing table, he wails as if being stabbed with knives. Every single time. I mean, really?
- I wish Lunatic Child would not spend half his time at the park randomly sprinting into the middle distance toward traffic with me puffing after him yelling threats to his bodily integrity if he does not stop this second whilst other parents look on in alarm.
- I wish Lunatic Child would lay down in his bed and go the f*ck to sleep. Tonight, for example. I put him to bed. 20 minutes later, he is wailing. I check. Apparently, he has "bumped his head on the bed". Comfort is administered. I shut the door. I instantly hear him get out of bed and thunder to his bedroom door where he lays down. Hilarious laughter. The kitten is sticking her paws under the door and Lunatic Child finds it HYSTERICAL. I remove the kitten and tell Lunatic Child to get back in bed. I go downstairs. Kitten immediately runs back upstairs to his bedroom door. Lunatic Child immediately gets back out of bed. More hilarity. I shut the kitten in the back room for a bit. Lunatic Child eventually gets into bed and spends another 30 minutes or so talking to himself before finally falling asleep.
I suppose if I think pregnancy is hard, I will really be feeling sorry for myself in a few weeks when Trouble arrives. Sigh.
- I wish Lunatic Child would be still for one nanosecond. Just one. He can't even sit still when you're reading him a story or he is watching TV. He twitches. He wriggles. He writhes. He prods. He climbs. It is SO EXHAUSTING.
- I wish Lunatic Child would not profess his undying love for the kitten immediately prior to trying to step on her, kick her, grab her paws, poke her with a stick, drive his dump truck into her, etc. She is remarkably undaunted by this behavior and responds in kind by attacking his head whenever it's in reach, but still, I don't think he is really understanding the concept of "gentle", and there is going to be a new baby in the house in 4 weeks.
- I wish Lunatic Child would just sit and eat a meal instead of eating 2 bites of toast and then telling me he's made me a boat and therefore can't eat his masterpiece. Or spending 5 minutes attempting to get the perfect sized bite on his fork. "This is too big"! (Food is wiped off fork and onto placemat, or floor.) "This bite is too small"! (He then proceeds to put half his plate on the fork), leading to..."This bite is too big"! Rinse and repeat until I freak out. Or telling me that the only food he desires is a banana, and then eating one bite, only to conclude that he "doesn't like it".
- I wish Lunatic Child would not grunt out a denial that he is pooping whilst red faced and straining. He then runs away and hides rather than get his bum changed. When cornered and brought to the changing table, he wails as if being stabbed with knives. Every single time. I mean, really?
- I wish Lunatic Child would not spend half his time at the park randomly sprinting into the middle distance toward traffic with me puffing after him yelling threats to his bodily integrity if he does not stop this second whilst other parents look on in alarm.
- I wish Lunatic Child would lay down in his bed and go the f*ck to sleep. Tonight, for example. I put him to bed. 20 minutes later, he is wailing. I check. Apparently, he has "bumped his head on the bed". Comfort is administered. I shut the door. I instantly hear him get out of bed and thunder to his bedroom door where he lays down. Hilarious laughter. The kitten is sticking her paws under the door and Lunatic Child finds it HYSTERICAL. I remove the kitten and tell Lunatic Child to get back in bed. I go downstairs. Kitten immediately runs back upstairs to his bedroom door. Lunatic Child immediately gets back out of bed. More hilarity. I shut the kitten in the back room for a bit. Lunatic Child eventually gets into bed and spends another 30 minutes or so talking to himself before finally falling asleep.
I suppose if I think pregnancy is hard, I will really be feeling sorry for myself in a few weeks when Trouble arrives. Sigh.
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