Here's the deal. People talk about the "terrible twos." I'm convinced those people are the same ones who told me pregnancy lasted 9 months. They've clearly never done it. They didn't factor the extra month into pregnancy or the two years where you forget what it was like to remember your own name. And they certainly don't account for the "terrible" phase that begins at 1 and ends at...I have no idea. I'll get back to you. But since I'm in the midst of this thing they call parenting, I'm an expert, right? (wrong!) What I know from experience is that it's not a terrible phase. It's one filled with learning new things and being silly for the pure sake of silliness. It's overwhelmingly, breath-takingly fun. But it's also EXHAUSTING! That's the problem. It's not terrible. Everyone is just tired. Mommy's tired, Daddy's tired, Brynna's tired (although she would NEVER admit that and don't dare let her know I told her secret).
So the "terrible twos" are more appropriately called the "tired toddlers." And here's a day in the life of our house during this phase that (while very cute) has worn out it's welcome in my book.
7:00am (if we're lucky) - From across the hall, we hear one of two things: either screaming that sounds more like a dying cat than a child in need or "Mooooommmy. I'm awake. Oh, Moooommmy." The "Moooommmy" sounds frighteningly like a scary movie. It's the sound the bad guy makes when he's not ready to actually hurt you but is just trying to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
7:01am - We need chocolate milk and we need it fast. It's the first thing out of her mouth as if she spent the entire night dreaming of Carnation Instant Breakfast. That's what the chocolate is. Brynna still doesn't eat much, (and don't you dare try to get her to eat meat. She is a two-year-old self-professed vegetarian.) so we have to give her Carnation each morning to ensure she gets enough balanced calories. Why the morning, you ask? Because apparently it has enough sugar and B12 to fuel a plane. I once made the mistake of giving her some after dinner. We were up til 4am.
9:00am - By this point we have picked out clothes, changed our mind about clothes, gotten dressed, combed hair, picked out bows for hair (so many opinions for such a small person), made lunch, said 'goodbye' to Daddy from the window, watched Backyardigans while Mommy frantically tries to comb her own hair and gotten in the car (with no help from anyone, thank you very much). We pull in to the drop off line at school, praying we made it before the cut-off when Mommy has to walk inside and sign the sheet admitting her tardiness to the world.
9:01am - We need Dr. Pepper and we need it fast. Seriously. I know it's bad and I try to avoid it. But the options are caffeine or falling asleep while showing houses. And the latter is a liability.
2:45pm - I rush to finish one last work task before I head to school b/c once I change from the "Realtor Hat" to the "Mommy Hat" there's no double-duty.
3:04pm - I pull into the parking lot hoping my clock is fast and they'll still be at the door for pick-up. Sometimes I get lucky; sometimes I have to park for the walk of parental shame because I was late.
6:00pm (if i'm lucky) - After coloring, painting, building Lego towers, walking baby doll, going to the park, going to the other park, riding bikes with friends across the street and watching the same episode of Yo, Gabba Gabba three times (it's the Baby episode; have you seen it? No worries, I can quote it for you.), Daddy walks through the door. Poor guy. I'm sure he says a prayer from the other side of that door every day, not sure what he'll find when he crosses the threshold.
7:00pm - We announce it's time to go up for bath and get a varying form of resistance - flailing on the floor, defiant shouts of "no" or silence (as though ignoring us will make us forget). We then pull out the bath time piece de resistance - Bath Colorz. For some reason, by adding a small tablet of color to the bath water, it makes it far more enjoyable. I don't ask questions. I just use what I've got. (And I've got 9 containers of Bath Colorz stocked up in the cabinet.)
7:20pm - Clean, lathered in lotion and smelling like a little piece of Heaven, Brynna bounds into her room to read books. One of us joins her while the other collapses into a heap on the floor.
7:30pm - Brynna needs to potty. You have to allow this final bathroom visit of the night or you will spend the next 3 hours going back and forth to the toilet. After climbing up (all by herself, of course, even though it takes 17 minutes), Brynna proceeds to put on her nightly show. If you've never gotten tickets to the Brynna Potty Party, it's probably because it was sold out. Keep trying. Sometimes Ticketmaster gets overwhelmed. To clue you in, the Potty Party includes singing, semi-dancing (until she's told she's going to fall in or get a spanking for playing around), more singing, comedy and finally, pooping. Yes. Somehow, every night she sits her tiny toosh there long enough until she makes something happen. (Another reason why you have to allow the final visit.)
8:00pm - The show doesn't always last that long, but there have been encore performances (at the request of the actor herself). Once she's exhausted all her comedic material and the parent of choice, she crawls into bed, looks at you like an angel and says, "Night night. I love you so much, Mommy."
And after thanking God for this season of life and asking Him to help me never take a moment of it for granted, I collapse into a heap until the siren sounds to begin again tomorrow.
