My Sanity-Keeping Secrets: Toddlers

I put on my tennis shoes first thing in the morning, and I feel like I run ALL DAY LONG. I run and I clean and I run and I talk and I break up fight and I answer questions and I run and I TALK and they talk at me, and at the end of the day I am WORN OUT.

How can a person work so hard all day long and yet nothing seems to ever get DONE?

The answer is not really all that complicated:

He's almost two.

This post is for all of you who look at me with those admiring eyes saying "wow, I am worn out by my less-than-six kids, I just don't know how SHE does it!" as if I've got some secret.

Here's my secret:

Toddlers are HARD WORK.  

Here are a few of our recent escapades, for those of you who missed it on facebook.

Before 8am:

"I will never, ever, ever be caught up."

He woke me up with happy shrieks,

He streaked down the hallway naked,

He dumped a BAG of cat food down the stairs,

he fought with the cat (over the food?)

He had a bath,

I got him dressed,

He ran away,

found his way back IN to the tub

and turned the water back on,
soaking his clothes

He threw waffles at breakfast, 

chewed on his foot, 

snotted and syruped my leg.

After breakfast, 

he took off his dirty diaper, 

laughed as he ran down the hallway,

sat on my couch,

and thought I wanted to wrestle him.
Giggles and smudges everywhere.

Another morning (same week:)

2 boys wet the bed to start the day

They sing about dirty underwear at breakfast

I say "No poop talk at the table!" 

but suddenly there IS poop at the table!

Baby had an "Up-the-Back'er"

They all laugh, "I thought it was just his raisin bran!!!" 

Hilarious.

Boys in the tub, I start the laundry and return to find the CAT in the TUB! 

(He had been forced. He was not happy.)

Later, I found them in the tub again.

I'm glad I caught them before they turned on the water! (This time!)

 Later that week,
He thought he should paint the wall with the toilet brush.
He stole a raw ear of corn from the counter, and he ate the whole thing.
He did it again.
He tried to eat a marble.
He dumped the cat food into the cat water. 
He put his foot in the syrup and cottage cheese in his hair.
He took a bath in bleach-y dog water (long story).
He poured salt all over the dining room.
He bit the cat's tail.
He put a kitchen towel in the pancake batter.
He followed me in the bathroom, jumped on my lap, fell on the floor, and injured himself. Of course, he wanted ME to comfort HIM about this.

And I sigh and I think if I hear the word "mommy" one more time I am going to scream or cry.

But then, later, he looked at me like this:

 So we went for a swim.

He thinks he can swim on his own so really, we just wrestled in the water.

When I had enough, they "laid out" in the sun:

That's a good way to dry your hair!

I took them to town the next day.

One dove headfirst out of the van on to a curb.

Bystanders offered ice packs and sympathy.

They played hide and seek in the library while I tried to find a book I was pretending I'd find time to read.

(This mama just can't give up hope...)

They all skinned knees, slobbered on the drinking fountains,

cut in front of strangers,

asked me questions, "helped" with the grocery shopping.

There were many random bursts of crying. and laughing.

Peter licked the cart and Marcus "helped" the cashier.

I bought whipped cream for my naptime coffee.
(It's a better choice than whiskey, I reasoned.)

They ate "lunch" in the car so I could put them to bed as soon as we got home.

Marcus was supposed to help Peter eat.

I guess for Marcus, "help" means "give my brother a bag of cheese."

When we got home I found him like this:

My van is a mess, my kitchen is a mess, my floors are sticky, 

and the boys have stinky feet,

but they are sleeping, and I have my coffee,

and my silence,

and life is good.

---------------

Toddlers are hard work.

Here's my other secret:

Toddlers take naps, and coffee is good.

And it does get easier.