I live with a hurricane. Better yet a tornado. She appears out of thin air and destroys everything in her path. Her name is MiMo and she leaves a path of destruction in her wake. In between putting her kiddie grubby hands on everything she gives hugs and kisses. Don’t let that distract your from the destruction left in her wake. Books Destroyed. Christmas ornaments strewn everywhere. Then she will turn around with a smile showcasing her 7 teeth and thinks it will make everything ok.
I thought her walking would be a treat. Staring an immobile human for months on end is not my idea of fun. Granted she was a beautiful immobile blob of a human but still it was boring. My thoughts were her walking means we can go outside to parks and she can just run and run and get that energy out. Again I was mistaken. One problem with my calculations is she started walking in the fall and now she’s finally comfortable on her feet in the dead of winter. There isn’t many parks visits to be had in 40 degree weather with a child with a propensity for ear infections and a runny nose. The best we can hope for is a the little play area in the mall or if we can ever drag ourselves out the house at 9am to Gymboree.
Tornado MiMo is in full thrall in the middle of a snow emergency in Atlanta. I mean dusting of snow in Atlanta. You know because the south doesn’t really understand the concept of snow yet. It’s only been around since the beginning of time but I digress. At 14 months keeping her continually entertained for 24 hours is tiring. Not quite as tiring as newborn but you are constantly trying to engage her in various activities. Meanwhile still trying to get something accomplished on the weekend because well its the weekend and that’s what we USED to do. Right now Sesame Street is her ish. She can watch 2 episodes straight and then its on to the next one. Usually she will be due for a snack. Here’s where the breakdown occurs. For some reason she doesn’t equate food with Daddy. Eating has somehow become a mommie only project which creates all types of problems when Mom has to work late or is doing something normal like using the bathroom.
Feeding becomes a little more complicated because our dog feels that if MiMo hasn’t eaten it in 5 seconds it’s fair game. Because MiMo doesn’t recognize this game she thinks Pru is helping her eat until Pru takes the last morsel on her plate then a nuclear melt down of our toddler begins as she realizes there isn’t anymore food. So now her BFF is her mortal enemy and she strikes back by pulling, poking, prodding, and pushing. Pru growls, she laughs then cries because she is still hungry. And repeat for any and every meal.
Normally we can get her to have one nap but she needs two a day. That second nap is always problematic. It should happen between 4-530 if we are lucky. But on a day like today that did not happen. She fought sleep like her life depended on it. When she is tired she walks like the drunk woman leaving the bar in 4 inch heels. She stumbles, she falls, she laughs, she cries, she begs for a ride (in her case to be picked up). This version of MiMo from a distance is adorable (like the drunk woman) but up close she’s a menace to your sanity. If she stays awake too long you get into this weird limbo where you have to decide should we let her nap or just ride it out until bed time. You question if you can withstand the toddler version of Survivor for another 4 hours without reprieve. We always decide for the late nap. We all need a break.
For the childless still reading — still want children?
After the nap she awakes refreshed but now we have to immediately get dinner ready or the demon will emerge and figure out how long will we allow her to stay up since her schedule been pushed back like Lebron James’ hairline. The last quarter of the day is much easier probably because the finish line is in sight. The first 75% is choppy waters. I finally see why parents gave 0 fucks about a weekend. I thought that was an exaggeration — no you just have to work your other job. Before the parent brigade tell me all the virtues of parenting blah blah blah. Miss me with that, everyday is not sunshine, smiles and craft projects. It’s ok to be honest about the days that aren’t. There isn’t one regret had about her being here. On some Saturdays, to quote Jay-Z, I just want to know “Can I Live?”.