Warning: This post contains at least one instance of disgusting boyhood. Do not read if you have a sensitivity to gross boy things. Personally, I don’t think it’s that bad of an instance, but you never know. Anyway….
I’m coming for you, 25!
Well.. not really. More like being propelled that-a-way by a relentless force of nature known as time.
It’s my birthday today, in case you were scratching your head wondering what the heck I was talking about. Today, I am 25. I was rather excited yesterday. So excited that I stayed up 39 minutes past my bedtime! I know, I know, it’s a badass (pardon) start to a new year. Upon waking this morning, however, I appear to have lost my ability to sense my small children’s destructive power. Maybe it was just because I was excited about my birthday (yes, birthdays still make me excited.), or maybe I’m slowly going insane, we’ll never know.
So far today, I’ve had a crappy version of what we like to call “sleep”. I’m thinking it was the combination of chinese food, The Lone Ranger, the late bedtime, and probably a bit of excitement. Either way, I woke up no less than 82 times last night, and both kids decided 4:00am would be a good time to demand crackers (Biggest) and a milk cup (Littlest). Biggest even went so far as to gift me with an early morning tantrum, which I received in 3 separate installments, each time just after I fell back to sleep. Thankfully, they also gifted me a 7:00 wake up call, instead of my usual 5:45 one.
Moving on, I thought that this morning, I would give myself an extra bit of time with my coffee alone today. Seeing as how Biggest has lost most of his screen time privileges until further notice, I didn’t have much choice anyway, as my coffee and the internet tend to go together. Somehow, while I was drowning in my coffee, I failed to realize that he was quiet (uh oh!) and came out of the office a little while later to the living room destroyed. All of the hanging laundry? On the floor. The rack used to dry said laundry? Crumpled up part way down the hallway. Honestly, I’m amazed the Kleenex box wasn’t empty. It’s a disaster. Also, Littlest apparently fell asleep in his bouncer. I’m slightly embarrassed at the apparent lack of attention I was paying.
He was removed to his room for the display. (Boy does he know better! I’m pretty sure he was angry because he wasn’t allowed to play Zhombies this morning. He is a bit of a vindictive child sometimes, but more in an underhanded, behind-the-scenes way. It’s happened before, though not on this scale. The last time he did that, he deliberately touched everything in the living room that he wasn’t allowed to.) 5 minutes later, he’s asking about his polar bear “Nose”. I said he was allowed to go get “Nose”. He mumbled a bunch more stuff, and I went to investigate. Turns out, he needed a Kleenex, and I was given the gift of “whatever” he found. Unfortunately, it’s my fault, because I encouraged him to find “Nose” himself. Clearly, I need to listen a bit more carefully, because that is really rather icky. You can be sure I’ll be a lot more cautious. (Gross!)
And with that, I’m being taken for breakfast. Despite the lovely err… gifts… I’ve been given already, I do have an enjoyable day ahead.
PS: He lost his screen time because he thought it would be an excellent idea to demand his shows/games. Temper tantrums ensued when he was denied due to his lack of politeness. He skirted around the issue by discovering “please” the next time he asked, but still threw an attitude when we stopped playing. In fact, he even threw a tantrum when I offered to play with him instead. …I have been relegated to game-player. I’m not at all comfortable with that. Result: he clearly gets enough to take the privilege for granted. Since the key word there is “privilege”, game time has been removed to Saturdays only, with the possibility of 3 extra twenty minute sessions to be earned at our discretion per week.