In an uncharacteristically sappy moment, I must share. My dear, sweet teenage stepdaughter turns 16 years old today. No seriously, "dear" and "sweet" are not euphemisms for "miserable" and "rotten," nor are they code for "find a way not to let your own child reach his or her teens." She really is an absolutely wonderful girl. I had no idea that this (a not miserable female teenager) could exist.
Years before I had children of my own to push around, I found myself meandering through a situation that even the most centered of actual adults struggle to handle. Yet somehow, between a rocky beginning (because how could it be anything else?) and my internet declaration of joy at her reaching such a milestone, we have forged what I dare say is a pretty incredible bond.
I remember K completely ignoring me the first time I saw her. She knew who I was and she knew why I was there, but I don't think she was ready yet. She walked right past me, skipped up the stairs and she was gone. Just like that. It was hours before she sat me down and schooled me in Sudoku. I have been learning from this child ever since. Two years later, when I married her dad, I promised some things that I wish I could remember and she wishes she had understood through my crying, but I meant every word of it, I'm sure. A year after that my first child was born and while it was a HUGE adjustment for all of us, it has done the most amazing thing for K and I. It has brought us closer and changed us in ways I couldn't have expected and wouldn't have dared hope for. If my daughter follows in her big sister's footsteps, I will be one proud mama bear.
K, you are, without a doubt, the most wonderful 16 year old I have ever known (and when I was 16, I knew a lot of 16 year olds). You have brought a depth to my life that I can't imagine living without. No matter where life leads us both, I know that we will always share something that is special and reserved only for us. I look forward to sharing all of your milestones with you - graduation, college, wedding and marriage, and someday your own children, perhaps. I hope you have a magical year and a magical life. I can't wait to be there with you.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
I blame it on sleep deprivation
I do. I blame all of my problems on sleep deprivation, which I suffer from depending on the day (and the blunder). Plus, claiming sleep deprivation is the only thing that makes this must-be-told-in-blog-because-it's-hilarious story mommy-blog-related...so there's that.
I've had a busy work week. I was out of the office and playing stay-at-home mommy last week because my sitters were all out of town. Enjoying themselves. While I panicked about spending 7 uninterrupted days with my own children.
This makes coming back to the office with 20 voice mails, 100 emails, and who knows how many annoyed sighs at calls that didn't result in voicemails, not to mention the response to my "out of office" email auto-reply, rather less than pleasant. I trudged through Monday in preparation for 3 hearings between Tuesday and Wednesday. To a non-lawyer, this may not seem overwhelming. To a lawyer, 3 hearings a week is a good clip to work at, not 3 hearings in two days. Perhaps look at it this way - I have 7 hearings all month and 3 of those were in 24 hours. I'm really busy and important, dammit!
Monday night, I woke up after a terrible nightmare. In my dream, I was sleeping in the middle of the day for some reason (sleep deprivation, probably) and woke up. I started getting ready to go to my first of these three hearings and realized that it was 5:00! The hearing was scheduled at 3:15 (in my dream) and I was late! I turned to Kevin, "Shit! I missed it! I missed the hearing! I'm not even late, like I completely missed it! What the [bleep] am I going to do? Should I call the court and just lie?" (Disclaimer: I would NEVER lie to a court official, just in case anyone comes across this and questions my impeccable, although sleep deprived, character.) I woke up heart racing and in a cold sweat at 4:00 a.m. Not an awesome way to start a day I'm already anxious about. See part of the issue was that I had papers to prepare before both hearings that I needed to prepare before the first hearing (8:15) because I wasn't sure I'd have time in between to get prepped for the second hearing, which was in another county and only 2.5 hours later.
So, I'm all frantic all morning. I get what I need to get done and I get on the road worried I'm going to arrive to court late. I arrive to court late. :/ Thankfully, so did everyone else party to the matter, so that was a win. I started to feel good. I had 5 minutes to sit and breathe before anyone else wanted to even talk to me! My client arrives, meeting goes well, we head into court. Commissioner was in a great mood, cracking jokes, enjoying his morning. Parties were actually working together, instead of against one another which is the norm in this business. It was a glorious first appearance of the three! I'm feeling good. We part ways. I step onto the elevator.
What happens next has already become legend, you know, to me. So, I was in a hurry because while my first hearing went more smoothly and therefore more quickly than expected, I could really have used some extra time going through the file for the next case. No one can ever be too prepared for court. I'm waiting patiently as the elevator crawls from the 7th floor to the 1st. I distract myself by playing peek-a-boo with the little girl next to me. Sadly, she got off on the 1st floor and I've got to get through the Ground Floor to the Basement where my car awaits me. The door opens and I start to step through. In anticipation of a speedy exit and return to my office, I pull my keys out of my briefcase. I bobbled them ever so slightly and they slipped out of my hands. RIGHT. DOWN. THE. ELEVATOR. SHAFT.
Even the other attorney in the elevator exclaimed, "NO WAY!" like a 15 year old boy watching a friend perform Jackass-style stunts in a living room. I would have thought that dropping ones keys down the elevator shaft, you know down that little crack between the moving box and solid ground, would be nearly impossible. Apparently not. Or I'm just oh so awesome that it could only happen to me. As they were falling from my hands I thought, "Wow, it looks like those could fall right down that little crack between this moving box and solid ground." Then I thought, "Holy &*!%sing shit!" Then I thought, "I'm never going to be able to get home again because my car keys and my office keys and my house keys and my Mickey Mouse keychain were on there." Then I thought, "No, seriously, how the hell am I going to get home." Then I thought, "How the HELL am I going to get to my next court appearance." This all lasted about 8 seconds.
I calmly walked over to the bailiff doing security checks and said, "Um, I just dropped my keys down the elevator shaft." Dude just puts down his beepy wand and looks at me. "Like you dropped them and they fell into the crack between the moving box and solid ground?" Okay, he didn't say exactly that, but you get my point....it WAS pretty unbelievable. "Yes." "Well, that's not going to be easy to fix." Little did he know that Mike, the maintenance guy, is actually a super hero and had them in my hands in less than 10 minutes. So Mike? Here's a shout out to you, wherever you are. THANK YOU! You proved both beepy wand bailiff and all unionized-county-worker-haters wrong when you ever so promptly returned my lost keys. (Thanks for that Joey.)
If dropping your keys down the elevator shaft is akin to seeing 666, Mike was definitely the image of the Virgin Mary on my grilled cheese sandwich. I'm pleased to say that while Tuesday did NOT get better, today has been glorious, thus I've taken the time out of my day to ignore my work and update my blog. Oh, and I was really tired when this happened, which is probably because I have two kids, which causes sleep deprivation, which is why this story is appropriate for my mommy-blog. Whatevs. I'm done defending. It's just a priceless story that deserves to be shared as many times as someone can stand to hear it and laugh at me.
I've had a busy work week. I was out of the office and playing stay-at-home mommy last week because my sitters were all out of town. Enjoying themselves. While I panicked about spending 7 uninterrupted days with my own children.
This makes coming back to the office with 20 voice mails, 100 emails, and who knows how many annoyed sighs at calls that didn't result in voicemails, not to mention the response to my "out of office" email auto-reply, rather less than pleasant. I trudged through Monday in preparation for 3 hearings between Tuesday and Wednesday. To a non-lawyer, this may not seem overwhelming. To a lawyer, 3 hearings a week is a good clip to work at, not 3 hearings in two days. Perhaps look at it this way - I have 7 hearings all month and 3 of those were in 24 hours. I'm really busy and important, dammit!
Monday night, I woke up after a terrible nightmare. In my dream, I was sleeping in the middle of the day for some reason (sleep deprivation, probably) and woke up. I started getting ready to go to my first of these three hearings and realized that it was 5:00! The hearing was scheduled at 3:15 (in my dream) and I was late! I turned to Kevin, "Shit! I missed it! I missed the hearing! I'm not even late, like I completely missed it! What the [bleep] am I going to do? Should I call the court and just lie?" (Disclaimer: I would NEVER lie to a court official, just in case anyone comes across this and questions my impeccable, although sleep deprived, character.) I woke up heart racing and in a cold sweat at 4:00 a.m. Not an awesome way to start a day I'm already anxious about. See part of the issue was that I had papers to prepare before both hearings that I needed to prepare before the first hearing (8:15) because I wasn't sure I'd have time in between to get prepped for the second hearing, which was in another county and only 2.5 hours later.
So, I'm all frantic all morning. I get what I need to get done and I get on the road worried I'm going to arrive to court late. I arrive to court late. :/ Thankfully, so did everyone else party to the matter, so that was a win. I started to feel good. I had 5 minutes to sit and breathe before anyone else wanted to even talk to me! My client arrives, meeting goes well, we head into court. Commissioner was in a great mood, cracking jokes, enjoying his morning. Parties were actually working together, instead of against one another which is the norm in this business. It was a glorious first appearance of the three! I'm feeling good. We part ways. I step onto the elevator.
What happens next has already become legend, you know, to me. So, I was in a hurry because while my first hearing went more smoothly and therefore more quickly than expected, I could really have used some extra time going through the file for the next case. No one can ever be too prepared for court. I'm waiting patiently as the elevator crawls from the 7th floor to the 1st. I distract myself by playing peek-a-boo with the little girl next to me. Sadly, she got off on the 1st floor and I've got to get through the Ground Floor to the Basement where my car awaits me. The door opens and I start to step through. In anticipation of a speedy exit and return to my office, I pull my keys out of my briefcase. I bobbled them ever so slightly and they slipped out of my hands. RIGHT. DOWN. THE. ELEVATOR. SHAFT.
Even the other attorney in the elevator exclaimed, "NO WAY!" like a 15 year old boy watching a friend perform Jackass-style stunts in a living room. I would have thought that dropping ones keys down the elevator shaft, you know down that little crack between the moving box and solid ground, would be nearly impossible. Apparently not. Or I'm just oh so awesome that it could only happen to me. As they were falling from my hands I thought, "Wow, it looks like those could fall right down that little crack between this moving box and solid ground." Then I thought, "Holy &*!%sing shit!" Then I thought, "I'm never going to be able to get home again because my car keys and my office keys and my house keys and my Mickey Mouse keychain were on there." Then I thought, "No, seriously, how the hell am I going to get home." Then I thought, "How the HELL am I going to get to my next court appearance." This all lasted about 8 seconds.
I calmly walked over to the bailiff doing security checks and said, "Um, I just dropped my keys down the elevator shaft." Dude just puts down his beepy wand and looks at me. "Like you dropped them and they fell into the crack between the moving box and solid ground?" Okay, he didn't say exactly that, but you get my point....it WAS pretty unbelievable. "Yes." "Well, that's not going to be easy to fix." Little did he know that Mike, the maintenance guy, is actually a super hero and had them in my hands in less than 10 minutes. So Mike? Here's a shout out to you, wherever you are. THANK YOU! You proved both beepy wand bailiff and all unionized-county-worker-haters wrong when you ever so promptly returned my lost keys. (Thanks for that Joey.)
If dropping your keys down the elevator shaft is akin to seeing 666, Mike was definitely the image of the Virgin Mary on my grilled cheese sandwich. I'm pleased to say that while Tuesday did NOT get better, today has been glorious, thus I've taken the time out of my day to ignore my work and update my blog. Oh, and I was really tired when this happened, which is probably because I have two kids, which causes sleep deprivation, which is why this story is appropriate for my mommy-blog. Whatevs. I'm done defending. It's just a priceless story that deserves to be shared as many times as someone can stand to hear it and laugh at me.
Monday, December 5, 2011
An ode to the stay-at-home mom
Like most mothers, I love my children with a fierce devotion that borders on psychosis. I can imagine myself into crying spells over possible some day tragedies like my daughter being cut from the dance team or my son being teased for his love of shoes. I actually have panic attacks when my son cries when I put him down for bed. I kiss my daughter a thousand times a day and tell her I love her...
I, however, freely admit that I could never be a stay-at-home mom. I think I'm able to adore my children so much because my time with them is limited. I work full-time and there's nothing better than coming home to squeals of glee from my littlest loves, but those squeals quickly sound like screams when you're stuck inside with two under three all day. So, when I learned that both my daytime care givers were going to be out of town the same week, I did what every loving mom would do. I freaking panicked. I don't "do" crafts. I have limited patience with Dora, and while I am a master fort-builder, my 18 month old doesn't get not to pull the blankets down.
I have some ideas. We're going to bake Christmas cookies one day, and I have resigned myself to cleaning during the two hour nap time to follow. We're going to go for a freezing winter hike one day. I'm sure that will waste all of 30 minutes. It's too cold to spend hours at the zoo and Kaia has decided that she's deathly afraid of the museum. She reminds me every day. Today we did some shopping, just to get out of the house.
And this is why I could never be a stay-at-home mom. We stopped at three stores. The grocery store let them each take a balloon home. Sure glad we stopped there first because you can imagine two children in car seats with helium balloons in and out of the car five times. Oy. I avoided all but three aisles at Target because I wasn't willing to have the "Santa's coming in a few weeks, so we're not getting anything" conversation today. We got our groceries at the store, but I forgot two things I really wanted. We enjoyed the pet store (and the cats are enjoying their catnip), but Kaia did not enjoy when we left twenty minutes after picking up said catnip.
So we got home, I threw some lunch on the stove and I sneaked off to the bathroom while the kids watched some Dora. It was then that I realized that I was wearing a shirt with a hole in it, my underwear inside out and I had managed to leave my zipper undone. Classy. Thank goodness they're too little to be embarrassed by me.
I, however, freely admit that I could never be a stay-at-home mom. I think I'm able to adore my children so much because my time with them is limited. I work full-time and there's nothing better than coming home to squeals of glee from my littlest loves, but those squeals quickly sound like screams when you're stuck inside with two under three all day. So, when I learned that both my daytime care givers were going to be out of town the same week, I did what every loving mom would do. I freaking panicked. I don't "do" crafts. I have limited patience with Dora, and while I am a master fort-builder, my 18 month old doesn't get not to pull the blankets down.
I have some ideas. We're going to bake Christmas cookies one day, and I have resigned myself to cleaning during the two hour nap time to follow. We're going to go for a freezing winter hike one day. I'm sure that will waste all of 30 minutes. It's too cold to spend hours at the zoo and Kaia has decided that she's deathly afraid of the museum. She reminds me every day. Today we did some shopping, just to get out of the house.
And this is why I could never be a stay-at-home mom. We stopped at three stores. The grocery store let them each take a balloon home. Sure glad we stopped there first because you can imagine two children in car seats with helium balloons in and out of the car five times. Oy. I avoided all but three aisles at Target because I wasn't willing to have the "Santa's coming in a few weeks, so we're not getting anything" conversation today. We got our groceries at the store, but I forgot two things I really wanted. We enjoyed the pet store (and the cats are enjoying their catnip), but Kaia did not enjoy when we left twenty minutes after picking up said catnip.
So we got home, I threw some lunch on the stove and I sneaked off to the bathroom while the kids watched some Dora. It was then that I realized that I was wearing a shirt with a hole in it, my underwear inside out and I had managed to leave my zipper undone. Classy. Thank goodness they're too little to be embarrassed by me.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
The shit that happens at my house (when we're stuck inside all day)
The day started out rough. Mikko was up before 5:00 a.m. for the second day in a row and he was C-R-A-N-K-Y. When Mikko gets attention for whining, Kaia catches on quickly. She's even taken to mimicking his non-word sounds to try and get her way. It didn't take long before Mommy and Daddy were overwhelmed and feeling beaten by their greater (spastic) energy. I'm not gonna lie, we pretty much let them do whatever kept them from crying all day....and so, our day in pictures, entitled "The Shit that Happens at My House (when we're stuck inside all day)"...
While I'm not huge into routine, I'm kind of a stickler for healthy eating and generally require that my children wear daytime clothes during the daytime. Some day they'll wonder how my yoga pants qualify as "daytime clothes," but by then, I'm sure I'll come up with some explanation....probably "Because I said so." So at some point I noticed that they were in their matching jammies (Kaia insists on having all the same feety pajamas as Mikko has) playing in Kaia's bed with a pumpkin bucket from Halloween that found its way back up from the garage recently and eating Reese's Pieces. And, for what it's worth, it wasn't that early, but no doubt probably not an appropriate time for candy, like after they've at least had a meal.
There's really only one way to watch tv in this house....
So here's what I missed with my camera today. Can you believe that with all this mayhem there's more that went uncaptured? Not long after my grocery trip with Kaia that was cut short just after the produce section because someone decided to have a hissy fit and someone's mommy was NOT into dealing with it, I found the two of them spinning in circles in the living room. They were giggling their tiny butts off when I realized that Mikko had a balloon string wrapped around his neck...twice....and when Kaia, who was holding the weight, spun, Mikko had to too. I put a stop to that game and no one was happy about it. Poor Mikko looks like a strangulation survivor.
I also managed to miss Mikko refusing to take his Tylenol, and by refusing, I mean getting all of it in his mouth and hanging his lower lip so that it all went running down his chin, neck and jammies. It was like a horror flick in my living room.
And, last but not least, during her bath tonight, Kaia decided to test the faucet pressure with her tongue. Imagine that first snowfall of the year and, like a child, you stick your tongue out with your eyes facing expectantly upward. Now instead of a weightless snowflake landing on your tongue, picture a faucet running at full pressure down your throat. There was much sputtering, eye watering and laughing.
I should start drinking at 4:30 every day. Everything is so much more funny.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A quiet moment
I have a big trial today. I'm not looking forward to it. I've been at the office in the evenings or on weekends more in the last month than I have in probably my entire career put together. I'm CRABBY! Thankfully, it's all over after today (at least until the next big thing comes) and I'm looking forward to that. In the meantime, I'm CRABBY!
They proceeded to scream and pout the entire way to Grandma's house. At least, as like most things they do, they were playing.
This morning as I was getting my mini monsters ready, they were taking full advantage of their energy and my lack thereof. I was at the office until 11:00 p.m. and up at 5:30 a.m. It's going to be a long day and the games weren't nearly as funny this morning as they sometimes are...you know, on Saturdays when I have nothing to do. So I finally get the kids dressed, pick up the oatmeal they refused to eat (much of which was on the floor when I came back into the room), wrangle them to put on shoes and jackets and strap them into their car seats. Kev comes down to say goodbye and we took a moment next to the car. He kissed me, I leaned into him, thankful that this day will be over soon and that he's remained patient with my obligations recently. Both kids are looking at us curiously and I remarked, "Little monsters. They're so cute when they're strapped into a car that I haven't gotten into yet."
They proceeded to scream and pout the entire way to Grandma's house. At least, as like most things they do, they were playing.
Monday, November 7, 2011
The playground and my blood pressure
The park. This place is a child's dream and a parent's nightmare. The super duper playground by our house has both a slide (yay) and an opening straight to the ground (damn) at every platform. All. Six. Platforms.
I'm not particularly religious, but places like this make me believe that there is someone out there pointing and laughing at me. See, I was blessed with a very cautious little girl. She's dainty, unless she's throwing shit, but for the most part, she's very careful. I didn't make her that way. In fact, I was a tree-climbing kind of kid and hope that mine will be too...you know, when they're older, won't fall and I don't have to watch. Then I was blessed with a son who is, well, a boy.
So, picture this. Kaia climbs up the low stairs with Mikko close behind. Kaia climbs up the short ladder to the tunnel. Mikko follows. They stop in the center of the tunnel, I bang on the clear walls and get them good and riled up. Then Kaia goes left and Mikko goes right. Uh oh. So I let Kaia be because she's less likely to walk off the edge of a platform without at least an attempt at holding on to the fireman's pole or monkey bars. I duck beneath the second tunnel to get to the platform between them before Mikko makes it to the edge. Phew, I caught him before he dove and instead he dives into the second tunnel. Meanwhile, Kaia is calling me because she wants me to catch her at the bottom of the slide. I turn around to realize that she's at the top of a VERY high platform, the tallest at the park, and is literally so high that I'm a little sick to my stomach over it. I imagine her terror (undoubtedly, delight) and rush over to where she's climbing into a gigantic tube slide. I rush her because I have literally no idea where her brother is. She finally comes down, her skinny little butt isn't heavy enough to propel her down and she has to scoot from about half way. I see Mikko's head pop up out of the tunnel and, when he sees me, he turns and runs. I run through the cedar chips, ducking to avoid, unsuccessfully, bumping my head on metal bars of various shapes, sizes and configurations. I get to the opening where I last saw my little boy's floppy hair and big grin and he's no where to be seen. Just then I hear banging on the clear plastic walls of one first tunnel that I had just run underneath. Both little monkeys are inside, giggling their insane little heads off.
The kids love the playground, but Mommy's blood pressure can't handle it. The only day I ever took them to the park by myself, when I finally got them safely strapped into their carseats, I sat in the front seat, turned the Disney CD up really, really loud, and balled my eyes out. Being a mom is really hard.
I'm not particularly religious, but places like this make me believe that there is someone out there pointing and laughing at me. See, I was blessed with a very cautious little girl. She's dainty, unless she's throwing shit, but for the most part, she's very careful. I didn't make her that way. In fact, I was a tree-climbing kind of kid and hope that mine will be too...you know, when they're older, won't fall and I don't have to watch. Then I was blessed with a son who is, well, a boy.
So, picture this. Kaia climbs up the low stairs with Mikko close behind. Kaia climbs up the short ladder to the tunnel. Mikko follows. They stop in the center of the tunnel, I bang on the clear walls and get them good and riled up. Then Kaia goes left and Mikko goes right. Uh oh. So I let Kaia be because she's less likely to walk off the edge of a platform without at least an attempt at holding on to the fireman's pole or monkey bars. I duck beneath the second tunnel to get to the platform between them before Mikko makes it to the edge. Phew, I caught him before he dove and instead he dives into the second tunnel. Meanwhile, Kaia is calling me because she wants me to catch her at the bottom of the slide. I turn around to realize that she's at the top of a VERY high platform, the tallest at the park, and is literally so high that I'm a little sick to my stomach over it. I imagine her terror (undoubtedly, delight) and rush over to where she's climbing into a gigantic tube slide. I rush her because I have literally no idea where her brother is. She finally comes down, her skinny little butt isn't heavy enough to propel her down and she has to scoot from about half way. I see Mikko's head pop up out of the tunnel and, when he sees me, he turns and runs. I run through the cedar chips, ducking to avoid, unsuccessfully, bumping my head on metal bars of various shapes, sizes and configurations. I get to the opening where I last saw my little boy's floppy hair and big grin and he's no where to be seen. Just then I hear banging on the clear plastic walls of one first tunnel that I had just run underneath. Both little monkeys are inside, giggling their insane little heads off.
The kids love the playground, but Mommy's blood pressure can't handle it. The only day I ever took them to the park by myself, when I finally got them safely strapped into their carseats, I sat in the front seat, turned the Disney CD up really, really loud, and balled my eyes out. Being a mom is really hard.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Storms and such
I live in Wisconsin. We don't generally play host to tropical storms or the dreaded hurricane. We do get the occasional tornado, but since they're not named, they don't apply to this RANT. This week, my house has been overtaken by Tropical Storm Kaia and Hurricane Mikko. Not surprisingly, neither has been officially recorded, but I can attest to their existence.
Tropical Storm Kaia has been brewing for a while now. She hasn't been sleeping well. She's teething. She's two... It was inevitable. This morning she told me, "Mommy, when I talk, you have to LISTEN TO ME!" Um, okay, kid. All day it was "No, Mommy" this and "No, Mommy" that. She freaked when I took her jammies shirt off to change her into her clothes, then she freaked again when I took off her regular shirt to put back on her jammies shirt. WTF is that!? The swirling winds really picked up when mean mommy made homemade pizzas and tried to make her EAT IT! I decided that I was boss and sat her in her chair despite her protests. She screamed and cried for five minutes before I gave in and let her get down without even a bite. Then she cried bloody murder because I wouldn't get up from the table. After I finished eating, she cried for a sticker. Then she got the sticker stuck on her play kitchen and cried for a new sticker. She didn't want the new sticker because I cut it out instead of giving her the sticky side, trying to avoid a repeat of the original sticker's demise. Seriously, child. I got her juice, brushed her teeth, read her a story and had her in bed by a merciful 7:05 p.m. She was crying again within 5 minutes. I went in her room where she was still laying down and she said, "I want Dora." I said, "Sweetie, you have Dora right here." "I DON'T want Dora," she clarifies. Alright, Kaia, I'll take Dora with me, but could you please sleep off whatever this attitude this is so that I don't lose my mind??
Ah, Hurricane Mikko. I considered letting Mikko be the mild tropical storm and giving Kaia the title of "hurricane." She kind of seems to deserve it. Yet Mikko gave me his own version of crazy and it was quite a bit more destructive and stressful, so Hurricane Mikko it is. So Mikko likes to be on the couch now. He's a big boy, you know. I watch him pretty carefully because he likes to stand and he's already taken a header off the couch. Because I watch him so closely, I was a mere 12 inches from him when he bounced himself backward which propelled him forward. Right. Into. The. Corner. The arm of the couch is padded, but not on the very very very edge. Instead, it's a wooden edge covered by suede fabric. Little dude had a knot so big and blue that it made my stomach turn a little. This morning he woke up with a broken blood vessel in his eye. This afternoon I ran to find him crying because he had pinched his fingers in a drawer (and was holding the drawer closed on them with his other hand). I rescued him from that and sent him on his way. Not 30 seconds later, he was chewing on a screw he pulled from the wall. Later, he went tearing up the stairs at Grandma's house and when she blocked those off with a gate, he started to climb the side of the stairs that is an open banister. Hurricane Mikko.
So I'm taking the day off tomorrow and I wouldn't mind getting a mommy break, but as it happens, I'll be spending the day with my little loves. If it's awful, I'll just consider it research. Or normal.
Tropical Storm Kaia has been brewing for a while now. She hasn't been sleeping well. She's teething. She's two... It was inevitable. This morning she told me, "Mommy, when I talk, you have to LISTEN TO ME!" Um, okay, kid. All day it was "No, Mommy" this and "No, Mommy" that. She freaked when I took her jammies shirt off to change her into her clothes, then she freaked again when I took off her regular shirt to put back on her jammies shirt. WTF is that!? The swirling winds really picked up when mean mommy made homemade pizzas and tried to make her EAT IT! I decided that I was boss and sat her in her chair despite her protests. She screamed and cried for five minutes before I gave in and let her get down without even a bite. Then she cried bloody murder because I wouldn't get up from the table. After I finished eating, she cried for a sticker. Then she got the sticker stuck on her play kitchen and cried for a new sticker. She didn't want the new sticker because I cut it out instead of giving her the sticky side, trying to avoid a repeat of the original sticker's demise. Seriously, child. I got her juice, brushed her teeth, read her a story and had her in bed by a merciful 7:05 p.m. She was crying again within 5 minutes. I went in her room where she was still laying down and she said, "I want Dora." I said, "Sweetie, you have Dora right here." "I DON'T want Dora," she clarifies. Alright, Kaia, I'll take Dora with me, but could you please sleep off whatever this attitude this is so that I don't lose my mind??
Ah, Hurricane Mikko. I considered letting Mikko be the mild tropical storm and giving Kaia the title of "hurricane." She kind of seems to deserve it. Yet Mikko gave me his own version of crazy and it was quite a bit more destructive and stressful, so Hurricane Mikko it is. So Mikko likes to be on the couch now. He's a big boy, you know. I watch him pretty carefully because he likes to stand and he's already taken a header off the couch. Because I watch him so closely, I was a mere 12 inches from him when he bounced himself backward which propelled him forward. Right. Into. The. Corner. The arm of the couch is padded, but not on the very very very edge. Instead, it's a wooden edge covered by suede fabric. Little dude had a knot so big and blue that it made my stomach turn a little. This morning he woke up with a broken blood vessel in his eye. This afternoon I ran to find him crying because he had pinched his fingers in a drawer (and was holding the drawer closed on them with his other hand). I rescued him from that and sent him on his way. Not 30 seconds later, he was chewing on a screw he pulled from the wall. Later, he went tearing up the stairs at Grandma's house and when she blocked those off with a gate, he started to climb the side of the stairs that is an open banister. Hurricane Mikko.
So I'm taking the day off tomorrow and I wouldn't mind getting a mommy break, but as it happens, I'll be spending the day with my little loves. If it's awful, I'll just consider it research. Or normal.
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