Just my two cents. Otherwise the festivities are quite a snooze and HELLO, it's too early for a blind-side. Blind-sides must be executed with precision and it's far too early kids. Patience is a virtue.
Anyhow, patience is something lacking around these parts.
In the past week I have said the words "TWO is kicking my butt" about a zillion times. Give or take a billion. But seriously, that somewhat romantic but small number is making me curl up all fetal-like and cry.
I'm not sure how such a small number, encased in such a teeny-tiny armoured shell can be such a butt kicker but it is. And it is successfully bringing down two
It has to be the number TWO that has possessed our child. TWO is mind numbing, yet we are in awe of it's super powers.
Our little lady could not possibly be behaving like every single freakin' event and action in the world is in exact opposition of her, which only can be corrected with brain-piercing screams, throwing of all objects not nailed down in close proximity, and general feral-behaviour. It must be TWO!Yet thirty-odd seconds after the last scream has burrowed into my brain and the last glass has broken in the cupboard, we have our child back.
She is singing, butterflies flit around her head, small woodland creatures gather at her feet, everything is soft-lit, and all is right in the world. It usually happens right before (or immediately after) I snap and therefore this sudden switch in toddler-personality makes my reaction seem over-dramatic.
Yes, it's got to be me that's being over-dramatic.
Hell no, these days the Oscar definitely goes to Bumper for best non-approved stunts, best over-dramatic acting, and least original screenplay.
Motherbumper gives up. TWO wins.
Oh I know, you've heard or even experience this all before and it will pass. And something else will hijack my child and I will be begging TWO to come back in the most pathetic ways possible [post pending - approximate ETA: Bumper's 3rd birthday].
But the main reason that I record these days - these feelings of absolute defeat without the option to give-up - the main reason I write these thoughts down is for future reference.
I know that one day in the future 16 year old Bumper will bring home a tattooed, pierced, motorcycle-riding, odd-smelling boy of undetermined age and tells us "I will be home when I'm home, and NO! I will not tell you where I am going, and OMG, butt-out MOM".
Yes, I pretend that my child will say "butt-out" when she's a teenager, yet I am fully aware that my delusion of her escaping 'yar "curse of the potty-mouth" is slim to none.
Anyhow, when she brings this absolute winner of a (gag) boyfriend home: I will look back at TWO and I will laugh.
This post will be re-read and then I will uncork another bottle of tequila. And while balancing the salt shaker in the crook of my arm and grasping lemon slices with my free hand, I will remind myself that I once thought TWO was the hard days. Resume fetal position.
18 comments:
Oh wow.... Sorry to hear you're having a rough time of it lately with Bumper. It seems like bad behaviour comes in waves, so smooth sailing should be (hopefully) just ahead. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you!
No! Two is HARRRDDDDD. Two is NAASSSSSTY. I have huge respect for Two.
Take heart! These bad behavior spurts rarely last more than six months.
-Jess, chewing off her arm waiting for 3 1/2
Two is wicked hard. And everyone tells me three is worse. So, if you're looking for me, I'll be hiding under my bed until four shows up.
You can join me if you want. You bring alcohol and I'll bring cookies.
I hate two.
HATE.
Sounds like this Saturday can't come soon enough.
We're watching Survivor, yeah. That hulk-dude's hair is just TOO MUCH. So are the pig-tails on that lady who cries every episode.
Assertagirl
I hated two.
I hated ten worse.
(Frac is ten now, and it takes all my powers not to strangle him on a daily basis.)
But maybe I'll hate two again, soon enough. That might be the age of my newest kiddo....trying not to hyperventilate now....
Did I mention I bought some wicked arse tequila back from Mexico? You're welcome to share it with me, any time...
I dread thinking about the high school years.
And I agree with chickyx2 baby -- three is definitely worse.
oh my god...the hair!!!?!?!? the hair! can't. get. past. the. hair.
Two is tough. I think it's actually getting a bit better 'round these parts, but only because three is around the corner. I am scared of three.
And you are totally right about Survivor hair. It is sooooo bad.
Oh Two. What a trip. But Three? Three is Two PLUS attitude extreme.
And Sixteen? Oh. No.
Survivor is boring so far, but I think that every time a new one starts.
I hear your pain, and you're right, I've been there. Two stinks, but as others have alluded, three is worse. (At least it has been for me!) Hope you get lucky and three is easier for you.
I love your vision of reading this post in the future with a bottle on hand. That will probably be me too!
We're watching. Boy, did Jonny Fairplay screw over Mark Burnett or what?! And I agree - major bad hair (and implants, heh).
I'm telling you, get a small dose tranq dart gun, maybe a blowgun to make it more sporting and just put them down when they act up. they'll wake up later, they probably needed a nap anyway
I'm watchin Survivor... I loved the blind side.. I don't care how early it is.. the question is whether or not the rest of the fans are going to wake up and realize just how much power they gave Joel and blind side HIM, or if he just won the game..
Ah yes, two. Similar I think to 'teething and not-sleeping' in its capacity to rob our daughters of their formerly sunny dispositions.
OMG that is the funniest photo ever! I would SO hang it on the wall of her bedroom.
It must be the moon or something because I find myself fighting back the tears. At least the children folk are there to offer me kisses and hugs after they have driven me to the breaking point.
This sounds familiar, somehow. Ours has discovered the joy to be found in pushing me to the brink, then shouting for me until I snap, "WHAT?!" only to be answered with, "I love you, mommy." I'm not falling for the guilt, she knows exactly what she's doing. Not sure if that's better or worse, actually.
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