Dearest Daughters,
I chose to have you. I knew what I was signing up for. And while I use this blog as a place to hash out my parenting philosophies, over-thinking, over-analyzing, hypothesizing, etc., this isn't a place for me to complain about what a drag children are.
That being said.
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Whew, I feel better.
When I had Babybel, breastfed her, changed her, read to her, played with her, sleep-trained her, taught her baby tricks and the English language and the concept of an "evergreen" tree, I thought to myself: "Self, you are such a FREAKING AWESOME parent."
Little did I know, it had little to do with my nurture and lots to do with Babybel's nature.
"Aw, I can TOTALLY do this again," I told Anyone Who Was Listening. And I was pregnant again before Babybel was even a year old.
And now, here I am, with a three year old and a sixteen month old. Correction: a relatively cooperative three year old and a gymnastic, independent, curious sixteen month old from Trouble Town, USA. I'm sure you've met a kid or two from there before.
And it's all I can do to not pull my hair out. Well, that is, if I had a chance to pull my hair out in between the corralling, barricading, intervening, repairing, remediating, and restraining of Danjo. Yes, I said restraining. And listen: you gotta do what you gotta do to change a diaper, get shoes on, buckle a car seat.
Danjo, your attention span is short and your body is quick. And your mommy is lazy. It's a frustrating combination.
It means that I actually have to keep an eye on you. I can't just throw you in a laundry basket full of books and expect you to stay there like your sister would have.
We have an abundance of toys and books. They're laid out at your level. And I direct you to them. Where you play nicely for about three seconds. Then, you methodically throw each object on the floor. That takes another three seconds.
So. There goes the first six seconds of our day.
The next few seconds are spent emptying all the garbage cans in the house. And any available laundry baskets. Dirty or clean.
There's the lower cabinets of the kitchen and pantry, of course. We must not forget about their urgent need to be "reorganized." And if I'm not fast enough in emptying the dishwasher, there go all the clean utensils on the floor. Because they needed to be washed again, after all. You're such a helper.
And television? Forget it. Babybel can sit in one place, watching one, two, three feature length animated singing animal nonsense films in a row. Danjo can't make it through the first three notes of the opening song.
Okay. So, this is me again. Not complaining about how annoying children are. This is me, attempting to embrace the nature of a child who I'd swear wasn't mine, except for the fact that you propelled yourself from my womb (if that wasn't foreshadowing, I don't know what is).
I recognize your need for perpetual and varied stimulation. But, like your easily overwhelmed sister, I don't understand it. And don't find it realistic to play the role of toddler entertainer all day.
I embrace your whirlwind nature and let you keep yourself busy (with the aforementioned minute-by-minute routine)(as if I had a choice)(it's not as if I could beat you into holding still and reading a book)(or can I?)(has anyone had success with that?). Ultimately, it's just my job to keep you safe, watching you out of the corner of my eyes. But, even that gets tiring. See above: corralling, barricading, intervening, repairing, remediating, and restraining.
I've discovered two things that keep you occupied for more than six seconds.
Dirt and water.
Any time, I need several consecutive seconds to, you know, take a breath or finish my coffee or (very importantly) give Babybel a little love, enter: our porch "dirtbox" or our makeshift wagon sandbox.
And when the weather is poor, it's into the tub with you. Recently, with watercolors, but that's more for Babybel's entertainment. Danjo will play in the tub with cups and spoons until she's a blue-ish, shivering raisin.
And for when I'd prefer to not spend my hour of solace on the toilet, this has been my go-to Danjo Distractor:
So, God. And I'm specifically talking to you right now. Thank you for dirt. And water.
And, I guess, my daughter.
Girls, I love you no matter what,
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