Two years ago this week, I was hot. Annoyed. Craving a new kind of normal that included Miller Lite on the reg. And then this boy came like a sweet, holy, hot mess and nothing has been the same since. And you know what? Those big ol' blue eyes and his laugh (often followed by YIKES) speak to my whole heart like nothing else.
Here's The General's last year in review (sorry for the picture dump, but he's TWO you guys. TWO!):
Things I've Learned in the Last Year of Keeping This Hooligan Alive:
++ I have what I've started calling "Mom Danger Awareness". Just about two seconds before impending disaster, I smell it in the air. I can tell something is about to go down and it can go one of two ways: A) We might laugh about it after we clean it up, or B) We might laugh about it after the tears stop. Either way, we're probably going to laugh about it because when you have a kid that likes to tee off with avocados? Chances are he'll have a sense of humor.
++ I can make EVERY SINGLE SOUND of EVERY SINGLE ANIMAL in the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD at 4:20 a.m. with my eyes closed and my head resting on the table. Homeboy will pull animal magnet after magnet off of the fridge and ask me to make the right sound. Zebras and horses sound the same. Goats and sheep and rams totally sound alike. And pandas sound eerily similar to "momma hasn't had enough caffeine yet, lovie."
++ The ball aisle at any supermarket is like Dante's Seventh Circle of Hell. Under NO circumstances are we to go ANYWHERE near the ball aisle. My kid can spot a ball two miles away and then it's game over and we take one home. Because listen: reasoning with a two-year-old about a $1.50 bouncy ball in the middle of a grocery store isn't worth it. I'll buy that ball every time. I might even buy two. I'd probably buy one for your toddler, too. Because I understand now.
++ "WHAT IS IN YOUR MOUTH?!" "SAY AHHHHHH!" "WHAT ARE YOU CHEWING ON?" "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?" "SPIT IT INTO MY HAND!" (Because nothing apparently grosses me out anymore.) "DON'T SUCK ON THAT!" All things, you guys. All are important things.
++ Just because I go INTO the shower doesn't mean I will STAY in the shower. This girl can bust through the shower door, whip on a towel, and be into the living room in like one second or something. Sidenote: In the basement, with the bathroom door open, I can see pretty much everything. So please don't think I just let my toddler run wild while I'm in the Spidey Shower. I've learned a thing or two, people. This kid can't be trusted to be alone. Ever.
++ Sometimes I make decisions I never thought I'd ever have to make. He wants to brush his teeth five times a day? Awesome. Great habit to start. He wants to brush his teeth five times a day with the toothbrush that he sometimes brushes the top of the toilet with? Meh. Toothpaste has a disinfectant in it, right? It build immunity, right?
++ When I say, "Someone will probably get hurt," it's me I'm talking about. I'M probably going to be the one that gets hurt. Like the time I got whacked in the face with the Dollar Tree plastic bat, or the time I stepped on three blocks at one time, or the time I was teaching him to hit off of the tee and he missed and hit my shin instead, or the time he nailed me in the face with his football/arm/leg/book/lego/glow worm ...
++ I'll never ever probably get over my hatred of Caillou. It's this deep-seated thing ... down in my soul. Caillou and I aren't friends and we never will be. If you don't know what Caillou is, don't google. Stay away. The theme song will be stuck in your head longer than "the rains down in Africa," and you'll wonder why, why, why a pre-schooler doesn't have any hair and why his house has red shingles and why his mom never changes clothes. So many things.
++ He will try anything once and I'll likely be the one yelling, "Oh god!" Like right before he tumbles head first down that circle slide thing over at the playground that we won't be back to until he's 18. And even then, it'll just be to reminisce about the time he almost induced a stroke because I thought he was going to break both legs and an arm on some slide that 173,402 kids had touched and was probably going to get meningitis because his mouth was open on the way down. Or something.
++ Just when I feel like I've got a handle on something and I feel in charge of our routine, something ridiculous like two year molars happen and I'm left wailing about the day I brought him home from the hospital.
And that was a good day, you know? He was in his white onesie with his monogram in navy on the front. He was perfection. And he still is.
The days are slow, but the years? They're too fast.
(The mother of a TWO-YEAR-OLD!)
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences.
He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
Copyright 2018. All rights reserved.