Mensamom’s Musings

Every afternoon, there is a moment when I have to broach the subject of “nap” with the 3-year-old.  The target time is 2:00, but sometimes it can be as late as 3:00 before he finally goes in to lay down.  This afternoon was typical – The Negotiations started around 1:40 and concluded at 2:30 when we finally went in to prep for nap.  Included in the daily Negotiations is the toddler’s choice of “nap buddy”.  This has evolved from a time when he was ill and the only way to console him and get him to rest was to have someone cuddle with him.  Now, in order to take a nap, he must have someone to snuggle with.  Sometimes it is Mommy and sometimes it is Daddy.  Today, Daddy had already gone in to lay down.  He contracted the mother of all head colds and has been feeling terrible for two days.  The toddler was finishing up his lunch, and chose that time to make his opening move in The Negotiations.

Toddler: Are we going to take our nap?
Mommy: I don’t know about “we.”  You are going to take your nap.
Toddler: Are you going to come in and lay down with me?
(Mommy is distracted and doesn’t answer within the first four seconds.)
Toddler: I’ll take that as a “Yes”.

When a somewhat common phrase in adult communications issues forth from you child’s mouth, it causes you to stop and reflect on what you say during the course of the day and how much of it your child is really absorbing.  Needless to say, that process is terrifying.  You think of all the things that roll oh, so easily, off of your own tongue, and discover that, the same verbiage expressed by your offspring would be entirely mortifying.  You vow, then and there, that you will police yourself much better in the future.  You will be the parent that other parents aspire to be.  You will be the best role model you child could ever have.

I was in the middle of this reverie when my child tried to hop down off his chair after finishing his lunch.  In doing so, he caught his foot, and ended up falling.  It wasn’t a big fall, and he wasn’t hurt.  It was, however, enough for him to turn his head, glare at the chair and say, “dammit!”

Still going to try and police myself?  I’ll take that as a “Yes.”

When I started this blog, I was determined to follow the advice of countless writers before me: Write something every day.  I was on board.  I had willingly drunk the Kool-Aid and was writing daily.  Then life happened.  One of my favorite sayings is “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”  After the day I had yesterday, he must be ROFLHAO.

It all started very benignly.  I got up and went to work.  Now, some people might view this as a chore, but I work in a place where, at least once a day, I am laughing so hard I have to put effort into not peeing my pants.  Anyway, a situation came up at work and my boss needed someone to cover some additional hours, and I willingly volunteered.  Had a great day, but then, when I got home, I had two hours to try and get done all the things that I had planned to do in the five hours I originally had scheduled.  One downfall to being a perfectionist is that, if one is not sure that EVERYTHING is going to work perfectly, there is a tendency to procrastinate until the stars align and perfection is attainable.  This explains why my house is in a constant, fluctuating state of chaos.    So, rather than trying to achieve what I had originally intended, I put out a few fires and got things ready to go for the next event on the schedule – the spring concert at the school.

I love all my kids, but each has their own particular quirks that can sometimes drive me completely mental.  In order to make sure he arrived in time to prepare for the concert, the performing son wanted to arrive an hour early.  The brooding son wanted nothing to do with the whole affair but was attending under duress, and the toddler cared only that he was getting to ride in the car.  Sitting quietly and waiting for the concert to start was an absolute impossibility for a 3-year-old. He only wanted to RUN!  He could not even be dissuaded by the DS, so I ended up watching him circle the cafeteria at breakneck speed, hoping he wouldn’t splat face first into the tile.  (I was lucky, this time.)  The brooder wandered aimlessly waiting for the concert to start, constantly texting with his friends.  During the concert was another story.  Three trips to the potty, two suckers from Grandma, and fruit snack and dry Cookie Crisp cereal kept the toddler mildly amused.  The rest of the time was devoted to seat dancing!  The brooder, in the meantime, kept excusing himself to also “go to the restroom.”  On our third trip back from the potty, the toddler and I saw him in the lobby of the auditorium, phone in hand and thumbs flying.  Oh, well.

Anyway, by the time we left school, picked up dinner, came home, and ate, it was time to prep the toddler for bed.  As he and I were putting on pajamas and brushing teeth, my husband came into the room.  Now, my husband has also been working on a little writing project of his own, and has been very devout about spending time each day writing.  He mentioned that he had not yet written, but that he was expecting to be able to do so once the boy and I had both gone to bed and the house would be quiet.  I replied that I, also, had not written yet, but that, along with the to-do list still waiting to be completed from the afternoon, my little blog was going to go a day without an entry.  And once again, the perfectionist in me popped up and said, “Self, you could just run out to the laptop and put in ANYTHING, and then you could sleep soundly, knowing that your streak has not ended.”  I told the perfectionist in me to STFU – I was going to bed!  I hope the warmth I am feeling is just summer coming on!