I owe many of you an apology. I have judged you. When I have heard you complain about how hard your toddler is I have inwardly chuckled and thought to myself, “I’ve had three of them and they are not that hard.”
I have had babies and toddlers who wouldn’t sleep. I have had whiners, criers, and sassers.
But my first three obeyed. Almost always. They might have complained when I put them down for a nap, but they napped.
They might not have liked it when I told them they couldn’t eat a cookie before dinner, but they didn’t do it.
If they wrote on a wall it didn’t happen again. If they used scissors on something that wasn’t meant to be cut I knew that there wouldn’t be a repeat.
If I really needed (or wanted) a nap I could turn on a movie and lay on the couch and they would watch the movie while I snoozed and not get into things they were not supposed to get into.
#4 has taken all of my parenting knowledge, skills, and intuition and wadded it up in a ball, spit on it, stomped on it, peed on it, put it in the garbage, doused it with gasoline and threw a match on it.
This week he has:
Poured olive oil into my tub of brown sugar.
Combined the two half used bottles of ranch dressing, resulting in a slimy white kitchen floor.
Dug up my basket of grass that was my pretty spring table centerpiece.
Snuck out of the house to play in the mud 4 times.
Pulled all the books off the bookshelf in his room. (okay, they all did this at his age)
Pulled a chair to the open fridge to pull things off the top shelf.
Made each of his siblings cry.
Made me cry.
Made me pray.
Cut his lip.
Bruised his forehead.
Wore his sisters slippers out in the mud.
Went through four changes of clothes.
…..oh wait, did I say this week?! No. That was just today. If I include the rest of the week:
Tried to microwave a bottle of bubbles.
Unplanted my wheat grass seeds from three pots and replanted them into all the dirty cups that were in the sink.
Sprinkled baby powder all over his room while he was supposed to be napping. We had to wash all the bedding from two beds and the clothing from three drawers and wipe every surface because he also sprinkled it in the fan that was ON.
Tried to wash his “soft bear” in the washing machine. Thank goodness I found him before he tried to add the liquid soap that he had just climbed up to get off the shelf.
Sprayed and emptied a full bottle of cleanser from our Swifter onto the kitchen floor.
Snuck out of bed at 11pm to watch “Leave It To Beaver”. His new favorite.
Wrote on the carpet with a purple marker.
Wrote all over his bedroom wall and door with a pencil.
Tried to clean up the pencil on his wall with a whole container of wet wipes.
Emptied a bottle of grape seed oil on the bathroom floor.
Made his siblings cry.
Made me cry.
Made me pray.
…I know there is more! I KNOW there is!
This little guy has challenged me in ways I didn’t know possible.
BUT, he also:
Gives me endless hugs and kisses.
Calls my name first every time he wakes up.
Helps me (it is the thought that counts, right?)
Sneaks into my bed almost every morning when the sun comes up and lets me cuddle and kiss him while he falls back to sleep.
Makes me laugh.
Makes my kids and husband laugh.
Smiles at me.
Teaches me patience.
Comforts me if I cry.
Trusts me.
Loves me.
Forgives me.
I understand now. I will not judge you mother’s of two year olds any more.
I get it!
I am thankful every day for this mischievous stinker and I am a blessed to be his mother.
Whims 