"Why can't we just have a normal day?", I asked Shawn.
"Baby, this is normal," he responded.
"Oh. Yeah. "
No wonder I need Prozac to make it through the day. Woudn't you, if you knew this is what you faced every day for the next 18 years?
I really should just go ahead accept it and move on. We don't need a child-proofed house, we need an us-proof house.
Need some reasons to justify the mood I'm in? Indulge, please...
Ryan has poured lotion all over my sheets today, we've had the carpet incident, all of the window shades in our car have been pulled off (even the back one -- that still amazes me, btw). The neighbors gave Ryan a picture of the three of them playing together for Valentines Day. So sweet, except for the purple lip gloss she JUST WON'T STOP WIPING ON HER EYES. Jax bangs his head on the computer desk at least 3 times a day EVERY SINGLE DAY. I've put up bumpers and blockades and he still finds a way to slam his head on the desk. And then he wails as if he's just been totally flumoxed and insulted by this inanimate object's desire to hurt him.
We went to lunch at a salad bar today with a friend who is pregnant with her 2nd child and stressing the issue of whether or not to keep working. As I shove 5 packs of graham crackers from the salad bar into my bag, she goes, "Oh, so that's how you afford to stay home."
We've been trying to ween Ryan off of sleeping in our bed every.single.night. Without causing a huge midnight scream-fest, and without making her feel unwanted, so we've been making her sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, a technique referred by several moms. Problem? She's still coming in every night to sleep. The whole hard cold floor hasn't phased her in the least. In fact, it's just helping her come up with more ways to get in our bed. For instance, she knows that if she asks for help getting her pillow from her room, or opening her sleeping bag, that in my state of uuber-laziness, I will just give in and let her climb on in. Or, if she wails and moans, claiming to be "cold", again, she gets a pass. Her favorite technique is just to crawl in without asking or waking us, probably because she knows we won't find out until morning, and by then, who cares?
Jaxson has now been introduced to corporal punishment, and it's not doing anything but pissing me off even more and make him scream like a girl. He thinks he's created a game where he swats at the spoon every time I try to put food in his mouth, even when he's hungry. I suppose he's developed his sick sense of humor from somewhere, and at first it was funny until he started aiming the food in my face. Now I've been told that he tries to do it to the babysitters in the nursery when they are feeding other kids. I've gone the "No" route to no avail, so now I've started swatting his hands away every time he tries something. You've never seen a more insulted child in your life. He stares at me as if to say, "Pardon me? Who the hell do you think you are, you snarky excuse for a mother??" Then he gets that lower lip just a-goin', and WHAM, the flood gates open and we've now got a monsoon on our hands.
Not to mention the fact that the weather man just predicted "cold, dreary, gloomy weather" with no end in sight.
So try to cut me some slack when I say that you'll have to pardon what will likely be sporadic absences in my postings, unless you WANT me to become a pill-popping alcoholic mother. I've got a lot of slack to make up with the recent illnesses, and there is just so much to be done, that I'm not always able to find the funny. And rather than depress the hell out of everyone, I'll just sit tight until something truly hilarious occurs, or until I have another poop story to share, 'cause I know how much y'all love the poo.