Controversial no?
Let me set the stage for this tale of frayed nerves and limited patience.
My happy go lucky husband is away for the weekend in Paris. What is he doing in Paris? He is there for a bachelor party. Apparently Paris is the new... Vegas? Somehow I can't imagine 12 'lads' swirling their glasses of old world bordeaux. But I digress.
That leaves me and my little darling full blown toddler who is not two until next month but certainly demonstrates all the characteristics of a budding two-year old. As in TANTRUMS. I was lucky in that last night I got a 'break' before the weekend began. My sister in law watched darling for an hour and a half while I went to de-stress at my pregnancy yoga class. Feeling energised and zen I decided that I would cease to greet this weekend with trepidation but rather view it as a chance for darling and I to have some fun together.
Fun began at 12.15 AM. Cue crying and a little stuffed up voice calling, 'Mama' pathetically from her room. Apparently she does take after her father when sick. He is completely helpless when he is sick and often says,'But baby, I'm sick' in this whiney, sort of annoying voice. This was all conveyed through the calls of 'Mama'. Rather than sit up and try to get her back to sleep I took the easy option. Welcome to bed a la mama. We snuggled and she promptly fell back off to sleep. Job well done you say. Her little coughs kept me up most of the night and her horizontal position in the bed and constant kicking me in the boob finally convinced me that two could not sleep comfortably in our KING size bed. I moved to lay horizontally across the foot of the bed. At about 6 am I heard a worried voice, 'Mama?' searching for me. 'Yes down here!' Darling was relieved and fell back asleep for another hour.
Despite my lack of sleep and early 7 AM wake up call on a Saturday (so wrong, so wrong...) I decided let's have a big bowl of oatmeal and take her bike to the park.
Too bad it was FREEZING outside. And darling refused to let me push the back of the bike but instead insisted on scooting herself along (she can't use the pedals yet). Our progress to the playground was severely hindered by what some may term as 'wrongfootitis'. Or more commonly known as darling put her shoes on the wrong feet but refused to let me change them the right way around. We also forgot our gloves which meant every two seconds we had to stick our hands in our pockets. By the time we actually finished on the swings darling was cold, snotty and miserable. I had to carry her while pushing the bike and that is not easy to do in a huge puffer jacket, carrying a backpack, while pregnant and gimpy on a frosty path.
Was there anyway I could turn this excursion back in my favour? I desperately needed to get a coffee at the farmers market and decided a big cookie would make her forget her woes. Of course she picked out a mini pecan pie. I gently tried to dissuade her from her choice which was met with resistance and embarrassment as several 'good' parents with their angelic kids watched as both mother and child proceeded to have tantrums. Ok no not really just her, but I was DANGEROUSLY close. And when I get going no form of cookie will turn this ship around! I quickly ran to the muffin stall and bought the biggest double chocolate muffin I could find. Sitting her in my lap I broke it into pieces and we both began to shove the chocolately goodness into our mouths. While this feeding frenzy/ mutual bonding over chocolate was taking place a brief pang of guilt (my previous mantra I will never use sugar to parent) flashed across my brain but then I realised that it was either this or my sanity. Oh sweet chocolate. How could you ever compare with sanity.
The good news is darling is now passed out taking a nap. The bad news? It is only Saturday lunch time. A day and a half left to go.
