It’s Sunday morning, the kids are going to the gym with daddy. They will play in the child watch while he works out. I, alone at home, am doing the chores that can’t be done with them at home. I am cleaning up their rooms, putting away their clothing, etc. I don’t love doing these chores, but I do love having them done. Oh, and I LOVE the time alone in the house.
We got back from a vacation a week ago and the past week was, uhm, interesting. My son has been drooling nonstop, which likely indicates a coming tooth, but he won’t let me into his mouth to check. I tried the other day and he bit me. Ouch! I couldn’t punish him, though. I was the moron who stuck my fingers into a toddler’s mouth full of teeth, uninvited. Go me. I’ll omit this life detail when I apply for any award attached to basic, human intelligence. My daughter has been throwing monumental tantrums that last longer than ever before. I feel like someone with a video camera needs to come to my house for footage and use it for a commercial. “Calgon, take me away” …”At times this like, I take Excedrin.”
My husband has been working on a million necessary house projects, which takes him out of the co-parenting role that usually saves me on weekends. I don’t blame him, of course. He is working just as hard as I am on these house projects and I have unlimited respect and admiration for how he takes care of our house upkeep. It’s just that I depend on the weekend for co-parenting to refuel my patience tank. It’s a little low by Friday in general and this particular Friday I was driving on empty. Gas station emergency!
This particular Sunday, my son had been sulking. Yes, he’s only 2 and he’s sulking already. At 7:30 in the morning. God help us when he’s 15 and has better vocabulary. I was trying to make my contribution to breakfast and attempt to make a hot pot of coffee. My son, however, was attempting re-entry. Yes, re-entry. This is where he stands behind me, wraps his little arms around my thighs and sticks his head up “where the sun don’t shine.” It’s awesome, let me tell you. It’s even better when his nose is really snotty and he shakes his head ferociously back and forth, rubbing his nose on me so it looks like I peed in my pants. “Great, thanks honey. “
You might say, “But you just woke up. It just started. Why are you so impatient?” Why? I’ll tell you why. It didn’t start this morning. It started Monday morning and has been going non-stop for 6 days. I can’t walk, can’t catch his sister before she smears her lunch hands on the sofa, can’t get a drink of water, and can’t do anything because my son is attempting re-entry. All day, every day. I like to cuddle by nature and, unrestricted by the complicated logistics of having twins, I would happily carry my kids around more than I should. But come on… sometimes a mom needs to pee.
If I step back and behave like the adult I am supposed to be, I can acknowledge that this is a normal toddler behavior. It’s not a sign of developmental delays, nor is it a sign of major illness. It’s highly unlikely he will still be doing this when he’s 10. (Please no… ) However, in my non patient adult state, THIS DRIVES ME INSANE. I can’t describe the annoyance I feel when all my shorts are stained with snot and I don’t have an arm to pour my water, all day. Naptime cannot come soon enough.
Right now, the house is quiet. My husband has just left and I need to get on with doing those chores that really need attention. Maybe I’ll turn on some really good 80’s music and dance while I organize clothes. “Calgon, take me away!!!!”
Re-entry. Haha.
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