The Light Side of the Dark

I am in a post-Christmas fog that has lasted all week and resulted in some interesting developments... 

We are unbelievably blessed. Santa and all his friends went a little overboard, so now the amount of stuff in my house has started to give me anxiety. This anxiety is causing me to stress-order items on Amazon.

My youngest has something called Torticollis Left, which sounds like something I’d order at a Mexican restaurant with extra cheese. It’s not serious because we caught it early and apparently it’s mild (as opposed to spicy?) But it does involve us driving out to Sac twice a month to strengthen the muscles in her neck. So Charlotte and I are doing our part by only being entertaining on Madeleine’s left side.

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Remember my blog "Why is my Toddler Crying"? How could you not, it was one of my best. Well it has turned a little less funny and a little more like I want to scream into a pillow. But here is one of my favorites from just today: I wouldn’t let her climb into the donation boxes full of stuff we are giving away (can’t make this up).

In my Stroller Strides workout group which I love (where we exercise/sing while our children hang out in their strollers) the babies have decided to rebel against us in some sort of tiny fisted mutiny. I believe I even heard one of them chanting, “You cannot sweat without our tears”. My two are, of course, leading the charge.

On any given day in motherhood there are cringe-worthy, scream-worthy, and wtf-worthy moments. It is our job to find the lighter side and never let anyone that still wears diapers defeat us! 

Why it Sucks to be Second

I’m pushing my two kids in the supermarket, mentally patting myself on the back for successfully making it to the produce section without any tears. My first born is correctly identifying items as we pass them and my second is sleeping peacefully. I step away to pick out some organic tomatoes and return to my oldest poking the youngest in the eye, while correctly identifying "eye". Madeleine is now awake and happily goes along with the "game". This embodies the essence of being the second born: No matter how much we mind our own business, we will always, somehow, both physically and metaphorically get poked in the eye (and then kindly offer the other eye!) 

Milestones. Oh wow, Madeleine is smiling! When did Charlotte start smiling? Well I can tell you down to the minute because not only do I have it recorded on my phone, but I also wrote it in her baby journal. Did you document Madeleine’s? Yes, it happened on whatever day we put out the recycling.   

That’s rough. Remember how you felt nervous about having your 19 year old cousin hold your newborn? Now, I stage pictures of my 22 month old snuggling her 2 month old sister alone on the couch, because how cute is that? Don’t forget to support her neck!

Sharing is caring! I remember sheltering Charlotte from sickness by using my body has a human shield from any coughing or snotty rugrats on the playground. Yesterday, Charlotte literally sneezed in Madeleine’s face and then for good measure wiped it on her tiny baby foot.

Hand-me-downs. Please ignore the poop stains on this onesie that we took a hundred pictures of your sister wearing, but won’t get any of you because I need both hands free at all times and because eww poop stains.

I am the second born and it wasn’t until I had my second that I realized just how much we get short changed. Of course the love is completely the same but I've made it my life's mission to attempt a fair and equal world for my girls, because as even the name suggests, being number 2 is total crap. 

Why Is My Toddler Crying?

We’ve entered the age of crocodile tears. It’s that limbo stage of communication where she understands most everything and yet can only communicate part of it. So sometimes the only way to keep from screaming in frustration is to laugh and make a list #whyismytoddlercrying.

1). I gave her half a banana and she wanted to hold the part with the peel.

2). I wouldn’t let her feed that same banana to our fat beagle.

3). She wanted to wear my shoes… while I was wearing them.

4). I wouldn't let her put her mouth on the fish tank at the doctor's office.

5). I wouldn’t let her play catch with her sister and a muffin.

6). I wouldn’t let her finger paint with a bottle of breast milk.

7). I wouldn't let her eat yellow mustard at 6:30 in the morning.

8). I stopped pushing her on the swing for 30 seconds to take her picture.

9). I wouldn't let her eat a goldfish cracker we found on the playground. 

10). I won't let her kiss strange dogs on the mouth.

As you can see the majority of these are things I simply cannot let her do, both for her safety and my sanity. From now on you can refer to me as “Mean Mommy: the Destroyer of Fun”.