Okay, so it's not quite lions and tigers and bears, but still, you'd be surprised at how shocking groceries can be! Over the past few days, I've managed to wake up to some pretty incredible things involving my groceries. No matter how early Dusty or I wakes up, it always seems that Connor wakes up earlier than both of us. And, no matter if it's twenty minutes, or two hours after Connor wakes up that we get up, for the past couple of days, he's always managed to get into something. I try to make sure everything's put up out of his reach, but Connor's smart. He'll get a stool out of the living room, or his big Tonka truck from the bedroom, and drag it in to climb up on.
I knew, coming into this, that kids get into things. I also knew that if the kid was able to get into it, it's the parents' fault for not putting it where they can't get into it. But what happens if the kid manages to get into it no matter where you put it? That's when you punish them, put them in their room, step outside, smoke, cry and laugh. After all, some of it's funny. Some of it's upsetting and funny. And some, you really just have to shake your head and go "Did that really just happen?" Yes, yes it did.
So, I guess I should start with the other morning and work my way forward. Chronologically speaking, that seems the easiest way to write all of this out. So, Friday morning Dusty and I slept in a little later than we'd meant to. He was up before me, as is usually the case, so he found the disaster first. I half heard it, but for the most part I was still asleep. I heard Dusty saying something about bananas, though what exactly it was, I'm not sure. When I finally do wake up, he told me that Connor had gotten into the bananas while we were sleeping. Okay... Well that's okay, he was probably getting hungry waiting for us to get up, no big deal.
No big deal, that is, until I go into the bedroom and find banana peels under clothes. Great. I picked up the banana peels and continued on with my morning, still half asleep. Dusty got Connor to the babysitter while I got dressed, then came home and I took him to work so I could have the car for errands. I still had not had any coffee by the time I got home from running the few errands I had to do directly after dropping Dusty off at work, so when I got home and got the groceries put away, I was looking forward to a nice hot cup. After all, it was cold outside!
I'd started the coffee pot reheating while I was putting away groceries. While the coffee was reheating, I stepped outside for a bit of a smoke, then came back in, and as I always do, took off my shoes. I cannot remember why I took off my socks that morning. It probably had something to do with me planning to get a shower at some point before my next errand. I really can't remember now. In any case, I moved from the bed to the dividing counter between the kitchen and the living room to get the plug for my computer, and, on my way back to the bed, had that moment. It's the first time I've had it as insta-mommy, though I'm pretty sure it won't be the last.
What moment? I'm sure you're asking yourselves. Unless, of course, you're a mom (or a parent in general), and have been paying close attention. It was that moment. That moment when you find something cold, and squishy, and highly unpleasant... With your bare foot. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I'd found the last bit of banana that had yet to be cleaned, with my bare foot. I stopped, stood frozen for a moment, lifted my foot to look at the bottom, only to see a white gooey mass stuck there, and let out the obvious "Ewwww it's cold and mushy!" Mind you, this was the last bit of four bananas our child decided he was going to dismember destroy devour that morning.
Fast forward to Saturday morning. Of course, with this being Saturday morning, Mommy and Daddy are trying to sleep in. I know that in a few years, once he's in school, Connor may, too, learn the joys of sleeping in on a Saturday morning. For now, though, he's two and is up at the break of day, every day. Like the day before, Connor was up before both Dusty and me, only this time, I was the first one up.
I remember half opening my eye (yes, just one. I was still partially asleep after all!) and seeing Connor playing over by the bookshelf. I figured he was okay, until I was something semi-round in his hand. What in the...? I opened both eyes then and looked closer, just in time to see him put an onion in my shoe. Yep, that's right. My first waking image this Saturday was my two year old putting a small onion into my sneaker. There was more that day (he was being a little bit of a brat), but the onion was really the kicker of the day. The moment where all I could do was smack his little hand, tell him no, send him to his room, and laugh outside.
We had pancakes Saturday morning, and Connor went through four of them. He was asking for more after number four, but I deemed he'd had enough. I can only think that the next story stemmed from this moment.
Fast forward again to Sunday morning. Really, you'd think I'd know by now that sleeping in just really isn't going to happen for me or Dusty. But no, we were both pretty tired the night before, and thus were attempting to sleep in once more. I remember half waking up to Connor playing, and him crawling into bed with us on several occasions. I don't remember hearing him in the kitchen, though it wasn't long before I found out he'd been in the kitchen.
When I woke up, I found my two year old, standing next to my bed with what had been a nearly half full bag of pancake mix. The box of mix had been out of his reach, but Connor'd found a stool in the living room, drug it into the kitchen, gotten mix and gotten the bag out. The mix was now all over his face, his hands, my new area rug, my new comforter (under which Dustin and I had been sleeping), and all over the house. This is not a pleasant way to wake up. I can only thank the deities that it was a dry mix, and not a wet one, because Dusty managed to vacuum it up.
It was a long rough day, one of those days that make you want to tear your hair out. But now, with both my boys asleep, I'm able to write this and all I can do is shake my head and laugh. I know that there are going to be hard days, and there are going to be easy days. There are going to be days when Connor makes me want to tear my hair out, and days when he's going to make me cry, and days when I will have nothing but sunshine and rainbows. I knew all of that ahead of time, walking into this relationship, into this little family, and so I accepted it willingly. That doesn't make it easier, and it doesn't make it any less frustrating when I'm trying to make dinner to the tune of "Mommy I want sippy cup! Mommy I want TV! Mommy I want mommy I want mommy I want". It doesn't make it any less frustrating when I turn around from opening a can of tuna to find one of my headbands in my two year old's hands, broken in half after having told him a million and one times that they're not toys.
No, knowing in advance that I'd have these days doesn't make it any less frustrating. But seeing my little boy asleep in his bed, and knowing that I'm going to wake up to his smiling face and his sweet kisses, and hearing "Mommy, I love you," does make it less frustrating, and does make it just a little bit easier.
