Tuesday, 30 June 2009

• The Longest Day

  I looked at Amy around noon and remarked "This is one of those days when bedtime won't come soon enough".
  
  And it was true.
  
  As I posted on my pulse, most of the day revolved around Miss Thang and her 'no's'.
  As in, "NO!" and, "NO WAY!' and "LET ME OUT!" and "PUT ME DOWN!"
  I decided I would try and count how many times an hour that little punk said "NO!", but I lost count after five minutes. I simply couldn't keep up with her.
  
  Aside from her 'no's' were the other things that go along with being two:
  
  She escaped out the front door. Twice.
  
  I found her in her mother's room covered in some sort of pink lotion that smelled and looked like strawberry yogurt. It didn't taste like it tho.
  I dug all around the side of the bed and thru the covers trying to find the carton to see what she had gotten into.
  As it was,  the little punk had gotten into her mama's 'adult' drawer and slathered herself with edible strawberry karma sutra lotion.
  No, I didn't know what it was and please don't bother to comment on that.
  My life is pathetic enough as it is.
  
  She insisted on going down the big girl slide at the park, then stopping at the very end and screaming for someone to "Come get me!"
  
  She used a whole roll of toilet paper to cram down the front of her dress so she could have 'boobs'.
  To those of you who remember me from jr high, please don't comment on that either. Thank you.)
  
  She decided her chicken mcnuggets would be better if she just poured her chocolate milk on them.
  In her lap.
  
  Beach sand is better in your hair.
  
  It's better in your brother's hair too.
  
  I lost count of how many baths she had.
  
  To add to whole toddler experience, her brother got into the act too.  He is ten months old and learning to walk.
  There are some advantages to being short and teaching a baby to walk. For one, I don't have to stoop over very far to hold his hands while he 'walks', hence no backache.
  
  However...
  he learned a new trick.
  He was standing by the couch holding onto the side, when I walked by and paused for a moment. He latched on to my leg, then reached up and grabbed my butt.
  With both hands.
  (I have been reassured this is just a baby thing, but I have seen his daddy do the same thing to his mama, so I suspect it's in the genes.)
  
  And we walked thru the house like that.
  So I have grubby hand prints on my butt.
  
  Of course he gets tired and I swing him up on my hip. Not a bad thing, but he puts one arm behind me and grabs the front of my shirt with the other.
  
  Guess where?
  
  And the shirt is not good enough, he feels more secure grabbing the edge of my bra thru the shirt and hanging on to that.
  Which causes me to do this whole put-down-the-baby-and-readjust-the-boobage-while-pulling-my-shirt-back-in-place manuever.
  Which also leaves yet another grubby hand print.
  
  People are starting to talk.
  
  I'm seriously too old for this.
  
  
  
  
  
  

  • 11:22 PM
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