Adventures in Motherhood: The Terrible Twos
It is time for another installment of "Adventures in Motherhood". In today's episode we will be exploring a day in the life of a mother of a toddler. And lest you worry that I think Bronson is the devil, I will just say each of my children have been here and done the exact same things, so I know he is not the devil's spawn, but just going through a phase that he will someday out grow and become the perfect angel that my older children are.
Our day begins like this. I hear him banging around in his room. He is no longer in a crib as he had to give that up at the young age of not quite two to make room for the baby. However, he is locked in his room and he has no knives or markers in there, so I don't worry... too much. I unlock the door and open it to let him out and flip on the light. Immediately, he is screaming and having a melt down because HE wanted to open the door and HE wanted to turn on the light by himself. This is followed by him slamming the door and turning off the light... which he turns right back on and then re-opens the door. We then proceed to attempt a diaper change... which is unfortunate because at one point in time he was potty trained and then one day he was not, why you ask? because he is two and he is male and what in the @#$% was I thinking trying to potty train him already? Changing the diaper takes twice as long as it takes me to change the baby's diaper because he is very particular about where I change him and about having a certain blanket spread just so to lay on. I have also brought a change of clothes to put on him and I try to act casual as I take off his jammies and start to get him dressed. I hold my breath and pray that he won't remember that HE wants to get himself dressed. It never works. HE always wants to get himself dressed. If we don't have anywhere to go, I let him attempt it. Of course, he can never get his pants on without putting both feet in the same leg hole, so I know inevitably this will go nowhere. He is also hopelessly tangled in his shirt as it is upside down inside out and he has his arm through the head hole. Ten minutes have already been spent trying to let him dress himself and he won't let me leave his sight until it is done right. I now have two choices... 1) let him concede that it isn't going to work and watch as he strips and spends the rest of the day happily naked, or 2) take over and dress him and ride out the atomic meltdown that will take place for the next 10 minutes because I helped him. This time I chose to dress him because for the last several days in a row he has been taking off his soiled diapers and running around the house. He seems to leave them on better when he has pants on, so today I opt for the meltdown.
Our day continues on this theme of ME DO IT! as we get through breakfast and he has to cook his own waffles, and cut them, and get his own drink and put on the sippie cup lid... etc. etc. etc. And by the time we get through breakfast, it is nearly lunch time (not kidding). Through it all, I have been simultaneously nursing a baby, burping, changing, and bathing a baby and doing everything for the other kids one armed because I am always holding the baby.
Finally, the baby is down for a nap and here is my shot at a shower. Of course, here is another dilemma. I want that shower BAD, but I know if I go in there, that Bronson will be unattended free to run through the house willy nilly while I shower. Every day brings new surprises and I have to decide if it is worth repainting, patching holes, or bandaging owies to have that shower. Today, the answer is yes. I have locked the baby in her room, learning from past shower mishaps that Bronson will go in her room and climb in the crib with her and poke her eyes. I have also hidden all tools skinny enough to pick a lock as I have learned from past shower mishaps that Bronson will pick a lock and insist on joining me in the shower. I am five minutes into my shower and I hear Charlotte screaming, "He's trying to kill me!!!" That isn't too unusual as the two are always at odds over something minute, such as sitting in a coveted spot on the couch or fighting over who gets the green sippie cup, and so on. So I ignore the plea for help and continue washing my hair. When I get out of the shower, Charlotte is sobbing. Apparently, Bronson got a hold of a knife and chased her around the house.... hmmm.... maybe showers aren't worth it. So now the knives are locked away in a child proof pantry... which Bronson learns how to get past the very next day!
And now it's time to feed the baby again (yep, still feeding her 8-10 times a day). So, I am feeding the baby and it is very quiet. Which freaks me out even more than when Bronson is in plain sight dumping baby powder all over my bedroom or painting the walls with lotion. I hurry the baby along and go hunt down the kid. It turns out that today he found a birthday present I had wrapped for a cousin. He opened the present, found out it was markers, yay his favorite, and proceeded to draw on the wall with them. He also found a pair of wire snippers that he used to cut open the box of markers and a whole lot of wire caps that he has strewn throughout the house and he is currently seeing what else he can cut with the wire snippers.
Finnaly it is NAPTIME- but only after lunch, which proceeds a lot like breakfast and then we have to begin a naptime routine that lasts for 20 minutes because he is OCD about his bedtime routine and again doing everything HIMSELF.
But boy when he naps, he naps! for 4 HOURS, which makes sense considering the busy morning he has had, plus I think my Heavenly Father knew that if I didn't have that break, I might duct tape him to the wall for the remainder of the day. And when he wakes up we are ready to go through the rounds again. We basically repeat the cycle from the morning, but at least being able to skip over the getting dressed part.
Occasionally, I will try to leave the house and "let" him run hap hazardously through grocery store parking lots, or take down 100 books from library bookshelves, and sometimes I am even brave enough to take him to his grandparent's house so that he can pick their flowers and destroy their heirlooms.
But at the end of the day when we get through that crazy OCD bedtime routine and he finally closes his little eyes. I love to just stand there and look at him. He looks so sweet and innocent like and in that moment I forget all of the days naughtiness. And I know I will be ready to tackle the day again the next day and the one after that, and the one after that.
And the reason why I am even writing this all here is 1) because it is therapeutic, 2) I will use this post someday to guilt him into doing things for me, and 3) because in another 6 months to 1 year, we will be past this and he will be an angel just in time for his little sister to begin this phase. At that point, I will come back and read this post and realize that I had forgotten just how rotten the toddler years were and remember that at some point they end and know that this too shall pass all too quickly. That is why in the midst of all the hardship it is good to drink in the silliness and the funny things they say because that also goes away way too fast.
Our day begins like this. I hear him banging around in his room. He is no longer in a crib as he had to give that up at the young age of not quite two to make room for the baby. However, he is locked in his room and he has no knives or markers in there, so I don't worry... too much. I unlock the door and open it to let him out and flip on the light. Immediately, he is screaming and having a melt down because HE wanted to open the door and HE wanted to turn on the light by himself. This is followed by him slamming the door and turning off the light... which he turns right back on and then re-opens the door. We then proceed to attempt a diaper change... which is unfortunate because at one point in time he was potty trained and then one day he was not, why you ask? because he is two and he is male and what in the @#$% was I thinking trying to potty train him already? Changing the diaper takes twice as long as it takes me to change the baby's diaper because he is very particular about where I change him and about having a certain blanket spread just so to lay on. I have also brought a change of clothes to put on him and I try to act casual as I take off his jammies and start to get him dressed. I hold my breath and pray that he won't remember that HE wants to get himself dressed. It never works. HE always wants to get himself dressed. If we don't have anywhere to go, I let him attempt it. Of course, he can never get his pants on without putting both feet in the same leg hole, so I know inevitably this will go nowhere. He is also hopelessly tangled in his shirt as it is upside down inside out and he has his arm through the head hole. Ten minutes have already been spent trying to let him dress himself and he won't let me leave his sight until it is done right. I now have two choices... 1) let him concede that it isn't going to work and watch as he strips and spends the rest of the day happily naked, or 2) take over and dress him and ride out the atomic meltdown that will take place for the next 10 minutes because I helped him. This time I chose to dress him because for the last several days in a row he has been taking off his soiled diapers and running around the house. He seems to leave them on better when he has pants on, so today I opt for the meltdown.
Our day continues on this theme of ME DO IT! as we get through breakfast and he has to cook his own waffles, and cut them, and get his own drink and put on the sippie cup lid... etc. etc. etc. And by the time we get through breakfast, it is nearly lunch time (not kidding). Through it all, I have been simultaneously nursing a baby, burping, changing, and bathing a baby and doing everything for the other kids one armed because I am always holding the baby.
Finally, the baby is down for a nap and here is my shot at a shower. Of course, here is another dilemma. I want that shower BAD, but I know if I go in there, that Bronson will be unattended free to run through the house willy nilly while I shower. Every day brings new surprises and I have to decide if it is worth repainting, patching holes, or bandaging owies to have that shower. Today, the answer is yes. I have locked the baby in her room, learning from past shower mishaps that Bronson will go in her room and climb in the crib with her and poke her eyes. I have also hidden all tools skinny enough to pick a lock as I have learned from past shower mishaps that Bronson will pick a lock and insist on joining me in the shower. I am five minutes into my shower and I hear Charlotte screaming, "He's trying to kill me!!!" That isn't too unusual as the two are always at odds over something minute, such as sitting in a coveted spot on the couch or fighting over who gets the green sippie cup, and so on. So I ignore the plea for help and continue washing my hair. When I get out of the shower, Charlotte is sobbing. Apparently, Bronson got a hold of a knife and chased her around the house.... hmmm.... maybe showers aren't worth it. So now the knives are locked away in a child proof pantry... which Bronson learns how to get past the very next day!
And now it's time to feed the baby again (yep, still feeding her 8-10 times a day). So, I am feeding the baby and it is very quiet. Which freaks me out even more than when Bronson is in plain sight dumping baby powder all over my bedroom or painting the walls with lotion. I hurry the baby along and go hunt down the kid. It turns out that today he found a birthday present I had wrapped for a cousin. He opened the present, found out it was markers, yay his favorite, and proceeded to draw on the wall with them. He also found a pair of wire snippers that he used to cut open the box of markers and a whole lot of wire caps that he has strewn throughout the house and he is currently seeing what else he can cut with the wire snippers.
Finnaly it is NAPTIME- but only after lunch, which proceeds a lot like breakfast and then we have to begin a naptime routine that lasts for 20 minutes because he is OCD about his bedtime routine and again doing everything HIMSELF.
But boy when he naps, he naps! for 4 HOURS, which makes sense considering the busy morning he has had, plus I think my Heavenly Father knew that if I didn't have that break, I might duct tape him to the wall for the remainder of the day. And when he wakes up we are ready to go through the rounds again. We basically repeat the cycle from the morning, but at least being able to skip over the getting dressed part.
Occasionally, I will try to leave the house and "let" him run hap hazardously through grocery store parking lots, or take down 100 books from library bookshelves, and sometimes I am even brave enough to take him to his grandparent's house so that he can pick their flowers and destroy their heirlooms.
But at the end of the day when we get through that crazy OCD bedtime routine and he finally closes his little eyes. I love to just stand there and look at him. He looks so sweet and innocent like and in that moment I forget all of the days naughtiness. And I know I will be ready to tackle the day again the next day and the one after that, and the one after that.
And the reason why I am even writing this all here is 1) because it is therapeutic, 2) I will use this post someday to guilt him into doing things for me, and 3) because in another 6 months to 1 year, we will be past this and he will be an angel just in time for his little sister to begin this phase. At that point, I will come back and read this post and realize that I had forgotten just how rotten the toddler years were and remember that at some point they end and know that this too shall pass all too quickly. That is why in the midst of all the hardship it is good to drink in the silliness and the funny things they say because that also goes away way too fast.
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