I actually gave up on Sunday but I’ve had that title in my head for a few days now so I’m sticking with it. Don’t even talk to me about photos for the blog. I am very challenged here but will be back to my cheerful, colorful photographic self after typing this blog.
For those of you who have been following the situation, my little one is now 8.5 weeks old. Thank heavens, she does sleep through the night but her 2 year old brother now does not. He has regressed totally. Even when one sleeps through the night, it is irrelevant because you’re still feeding, changing, etc at their beck and call. This is clearly why we have a special day called Mother’s Day because mothering is not easy. Yes, I knew this when I had children so don’t send me any mean emails, I’m just venting here.
So Sunday morning we are trying to get out of the house. I get up at 7 and of course the 2 year old has already been up and beating us in the head in the bed (because he can now escape from his big boy bed.) So I start getting organized, get him fed, changed (this takes FOREVER) and firmly positioned in front of his favorite movie, Alvin and the Chipmunks – annoying as hell. Then I get the baby organized, bag packed, etc (my husband is still in bed. I will not seize this opportunity to go off. I am trying for positivity here.) After two are handled and the 13 year old is told to get up, I tell my husband that I’m getting in the shower so we can exit in some kind of orderly fashion and he says that he’s in charge of the 2 year old. I get into the shower, not 10 seconds mind you and the little one follows me into the bathroom/dressing area. Fine, I’m not worried because my husband is “watching him.” He proceeds to turn on the bathtub (separate from the shower but I can see him through the glass.) He then continues to enjoy his water display, again I’m still not “worried.” Then, here we go. With a swift glance at me, the 2 year old CLIMBS INTO THE TUB. Mind you, he is in his freshly pressed dress up clothes, socks, belt, everything. He continues to amp up the water, under my husband’s watchful eye (not) and starts splashing. I don’t know what was better for him, the fact that I was stuck in the shower and he knew it or the fact that he had discovered his own personal Trevi Fountain.
Anyway, you see where this goes. He douses himself like a bird in a bird bath post storm. By this point I don’t even care anymore. The damage is done. I calmly get out of the shower, lotion up, check on the 13 year old and hear my husband enter the bathroom, HORRIFIED (remember he is the uptight, perfect one in the family). He is not however clueless enough to challenge me on this situation. Something has gone terribly wrong. His wife is not SCREAMING. By now the 2 year old has REMOVED THE HANDLES FROM THE TUB. Oh yes, we now need a plumber, a housekeeper and a psychiatrist.
45 minutes later we all calmly left the house and I felt fabulous. My angel got rechanged by his father (repeat: not easy) and I think everyone learned their lessons. Thank you Dr. Norman Vincent Peale and your Power of Positive Thinking. Had I not been listening to this continuously (while driving lately), I might have burst a valve. And how was YOUR day?
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