"God bless Doodle... AMEN."
This post was a journal entry from yesterday... but after reading it, I'm sure you'll understand why I didn't have the emotional stamina to blog about it until now.
Thursday, September 29
Evangeline... I love that girl. But, Dear Lord, she's driving me crazy today. Just when you think you 'have a grip on things'... let me assure you... you don't.
Doodle has been particularly out of sorts for the past two weeks. She's been sick for most of the time, so I can't blame her... and with me being on bed rest for a few days last week, she's definitely taken advantage of the 'relaxed schedule' around here.
So let me give you a glimpse of my morning. Yes... all of what I'm about to relay to my 18 devoted fans... happened BEFORE nap time. No exaggerating. No 'adding a story' from yesterday to make things seem more interesting. In fact, may I appeal to you that I may ,very well be, leaving some things out... since my brain started turning to mush around 11:00-ish.
This thursday morning began with a delicious cup of coffee, after a blissful night's sleep. I say 'blissful' because, I am proud to announce... Baby Brotha' slept through the night for the very first time at 8 1/2 months old. Hallelujah! On the other hand... I am writing this with a hint of sarcasm. I can only imagine that the poor little thing perceives this 'all-nighter' as a terrible mistake... so he has since set out to prove his love for me by waking up every four hours as usual... as any truly devoted son would.
Anyway... as I sat on the floor playing with Elliot, David got Evangeline out of bed and brought her into the living room. She crouched down next to brotha and gave him a kiss and some snuggles. "How sweet! Good job! What a kind sister!" David and I jump on any chance to 'affirm good behavior'. For some reason, these opportunities don't present themselves very often.
She smiles, stands up,looks me straight in the eye and stomps on Elliot's pudgy, little fingers. David scoops up Elliot as I 'discipline' Evangeline... and carry her kicking and screaming to time out.
"No time out! No time out!" she yells in a tantrum of drool, snot and curls.
"Evangeline, you sit your bottom right there. Two minutes. Don't get up."
I turn my back to start the timer. I glance back at her as she slides off the chair and onto the floor.
"My no chair!" she protests.
After a lengthy battle of getting her back in the chair, I start the timer again and remind her not to move. I stay in the other room, tell David goodbye and wait for the timer. Before the two minute timer goes off, I hear her 'time out chair' scooting across the floor.
"What a girl" I think aloud "I told her not to move her bottom off that chair."
As I round the corner into the dining room, I see my mischievously stubborn 2 year old... still sitting in her chair as she's scooting it out of the dining room and starting down the hall.
"No get out chair!" she yells at me.
After a 20 minute battle, our 2 minute time out was complete... and I am proud to say that I won this one. We finished our time out with a quick prayer... "Dear Jesus, please help Doodle to be kind... and please help mommy not to be angry. AMEN!" Somewhere around the 'help mommy' part... she grabbed my face, told me to "Be careful"... then gave me a huge lick. I'm still not sure where in the world she got this from, but it's her 'new thing'. She ended up running off yelling "No pray!" before I finished... but I continued, since the prayer was mostly for me anyway.
On to breakfast. I put Evangeline in her highchair to eat her yogurt. She was absolutely loving it... thoroughly enjoying each bite, complete with humming and sound effects. "Ahh... a few seconds of normality." I think to myself.
After I served Doodle her second bowl of yogurt, I picked up Elliot to put him in his pink, princess walker. (Note To Self: Must buy more 'gender neutral' baby gear in the future)... and, before I could even get his squirmy little legs in the seat... Doodle busts the tray off of the highchair with her bare belly, in a fit of jealousy. I abort 'Plan A' (putting brotha in the walker) and settle for "Plan B' (catching the yogurt mid-air with my left hand while gracefully balancing 20 lb. boy on my right hip). I successfully avoided the yogurt disaster, but Doodle won this battle as she slid into the pink, princess walker before brother.
I believe I said another brief prayer as I pulled Doodle out of the walker with one arm and managed to put Elliot in the walker with the other... and quickly moved on our second 'time out battle' of the day.
As the timed neared for Elliot's morning nap, I thought ahead and pulled Doodle's highchair into the living room, turned on an episode of Olivia, strapped my precious toddler in and let her play with her play dough. As I fed Elliot his bottle and laid him down in his crib, I congratulated myself on a graceful transition and went to rescue Evangeline from confinement. As I cleaned up the play dough, I realized there was an extra tub with nothing in it, but just figured it rolled under the couch and I would retrieve it when I straightened up later.
I moved on to vacuuming, picking up a few toys, laundry and even had some sacred reading and play time with my favorite toddler. I was feeling emotionally drained, but somewhat productive when I heard a knock at the door.
There, on my front porch, a dear friend with a pumpkin spice latte and scone. "Ahhh!" Now, I've totally asked Jesus to send Starbucks to my front door before, but I supposed He knew that I would really need it today. My friend came in for a brief visit and even played blocks with Evangeline before she left. I enjoyed the latte, but put the scone on the kitchen counter for later. A few minutes after our blessed visitor left... Doodle decides that it's time for a scone. She helped herself to my scone and also preceded to leave a trail of sugary crumbs all over the rooms I had just vacuumed.
I took another deep breath and decided that 'enough was enough'... I put Evangeline outside on the back deck with her scone and locked the door. She was completely 'unphased' by this strategic move, so I went ahead and re-vacuumed the floors. Besides... the deck is 'Doodle proof'... what could she possibly get into out there?
I finished cleaning up the scone disaster, and think ahead enough to make Doodle her bottle for nap time. I glanced out the back window to discern if it was time to bring her in or if I had enough time to quickly unload the dishwasher. Well... let's just say that the dishwasher is still full. As I peek outside, I see Doodle... standing there completely naked with poop all over her butt. She is hovering over her poopy diaper, feeding Millie the poop from one hand and playing with the poop in her other hand. I decide that the damage has already been done, so I run down the hall to get her soap and bath towel. As I go out to the deck and turn the water hose on, I notice the purple, clay-like consistency of the poop. One can only conclude that the missing play dough is not under the couch.
We have a delightful bath time, outside in the cold water as I glance next door to make sure our new neighbors aren't out.
I bundled Doodle up, zipped her jammies up her back in efforts to avoid another poop disaster and laid her down for her nap. Elliot woke up 15 minutes later. I glanced up at the clock... 12:30.
Doodle was up by 2:30. Elliot never went back down. My husband called home from work and asked if it was a good night for him to play softball.
I went off on some dramatic rant. Something like: "If he wanted to kill me off, collect the insurance and hire a live in nanny before 7:00... then he could play softball that night."
I guess I overreacted a bit. We aren't speaking now. Don't worry... we'll be fine. It's the first fight we've had in a long time... so it's bound to be a doozy. On the other hand... I guess I shouldn't be so shocked at my angry and dramatic two year old. She gets it honestly.
P.S. Please excuse all the typos and inconsistencies... I believe I've had to get up at least 20 times since I began this post. It's either 'proof read' or pee... Mom's always choose 'PEE'.
Thursday, September 29
Evangeline... I love that girl. But, Dear Lord, she's driving me crazy today. Just when you think you 'have a grip on things'... let me assure you... you don't.
Doodle has been particularly out of sorts for the past two weeks. She's been sick for most of the time, so I can't blame her... and with me being on bed rest for a few days last week, she's definitely taken advantage of the 'relaxed schedule' around here.
So let me give you a glimpse of my morning. Yes... all of what I'm about to relay to my 18 devoted fans... happened BEFORE nap time. No exaggerating. No 'adding a story' from yesterday to make things seem more interesting. In fact, may I appeal to you that I may ,very well be, leaving some things out... since my brain started turning to mush around 11:00-ish.
This thursday morning began with a delicious cup of coffee, after a blissful night's sleep. I say 'blissful' because, I am proud to announce... Baby Brotha' slept through the night for the very first time at 8 1/2 months old. Hallelujah! On the other hand... I am writing this with a hint of sarcasm. I can only imagine that the poor little thing perceives this 'all-nighter' as a terrible mistake... so he has since set out to prove his love for me by waking up every four hours as usual... as any truly devoted son would.
Anyway... as I sat on the floor playing with Elliot, David got Evangeline out of bed and brought her into the living room. She crouched down next to brotha and gave him a kiss and some snuggles. "How sweet! Good job! What a kind sister!" David and I jump on any chance to 'affirm good behavior'. For some reason, these opportunities don't present themselves very often.
She smiles, stands up,looks me straight in the eye and stomps on Elliot's pudgy, little fingers. David scoops up Elliot as I 'discipline' Evangeline... and carry her kicking and screaming to time out.
"No time out! No time out!" she yells in a tantrum of drool, snot and curls.
"Evangeline, you sit your bottom right there. Two minutes. Don't get up."
I turn my back to start the timer. I glance back at her as she slides off the chair and onto the floor.
"My no chair!" she protests.
After a lengthy battle of getting her back in the chair, I start the timer again and remind her not to move. I stay in the other room, tell David goodbye and wait for the timer. Before the two minute timer goes off, I hear her 'time out chair' scooting across the floor.
"What a girl" I think aloud "I told her not to move her bottom off that chair."
As I round the corner into the dining room, I see my mischievously stubborn 2 year old... still sitting in her chair as she's scooting it out of the dining room and starting down the hall.
"No get out chair!" she yells at me.
After a 20 minute battle, our 2 minute time out was complete... and I am proud to say that I won this one. We finished our time out with a quick prayer... "Dear Jesus, please help Doodle to be kind... and please help mommy not to be angry. AMEN!" Somewhere around the 'help mommy' part... she grabbed my face, told me to "Be careful"... then gave me a huge lick. I'm still not sure where in the world she got this from, but it's her 'new thing'. She ended up running off yelling "No pray!" before I finished... but I continued, since the prayer was mostly for me anyway.
On to breakfast. I put Evangeline in her highchair to eat her yogurt. She was absolutely loving it... thoroughly enjoying each bite, complete with humming and sound effects. "Ahh... a few seconds of normality." I think to myself.
After I served Doodle her second bowl of yogurt, I picked up Elliot to put him in his pink, princess walker. (Note To Self: Must buy more 'gender neutral' baby gear in the future)... and, before I could even get his squirmy little legs in the seat... Doodle busts the tray off of the highchair with her bare belly, in a fit of jealousy. I abort 'Plan A' (putting brotha in the walker) and settle for "Plan B' (catching the yogurt mid-air with my left hand while gracefully balancing 20 lb. boy on my right hip). I successfully avoided the yogurt disaster, but Doodle won this battle as she slid into the pink, princess walker before brother.
I believe I said another brief prayer as I pulled Doodle out of the walker with one arm and managed to put Elliot in the walker with the other... and quickly moved on our second 'time out battle' of the day.
As the timed neared for Elliot's morning nap, I thought ahead and pulled Doodle's highchair into the living room, turned on an episode of Olivia, strapped my precious toddler in and let her play with her play dough. As I fed Elliot his bottle and laid him down in his crib, I congratulated myself on a graceful transition and went to rescue Evangeline from confinement. As I cleaned up the play dough, I realized there was an extra tub with nothing in it, but just figured it rolled under the couch and I would retrieve it when I straightened up later.
I moved on to vacuuming, picking up a few toys, laundry and even had some sacred reading and play time with my favorite toddler. I was feeling emotionally drained, but somewhat productive when I heard a knock at the door.
There, on my front porch, a dear friend with a pumpkin spice latte and scone. "Ahhh!" Now, I've totally asked Jesus to send Starbucks to my front door before, but I supposed He knew that I would really need it today. My friend came in for a brief visit and even played blocks with Evangeline before she left. I enjoyed the latte, but put the scone on the kitchen counter for later. A few minutes after our blessed visitor left... Doodle decides that it's time for a scone. She helped herself to my scone and also preceded to leave a trail of sugary crumbs all over the rooms I had just vacuumed.
I took another deep breath and decided that 'enough was enough'... I put Evangeline outside on the back deck with her scone and locked the door. She was completely 'unphased' by this strategic move, so I went ahead and re-vacuumed the floors. Besides... the deck is 'Doodle proof'... what could she possibly get into out there?
I finished cleaning up the scone disaster, and think ahead enough to make Doodle her bottle for nap time. I glanced out the back window to discern if it was time to bring her in or if I had enough time to quickly unload the dishwasher. Well... let's just say that the dishwasher is still full. As I peek outside, I see Doodle... standing there completely naked with poop all over her butt. She is hovering over her poopy diaper, feeding Millie the poop from one hand and playing with the poop in her other hand. I decide that the damage has already been done, so I run down the hall to get her soap and bath towel. As I go out to the deck and turn the water hose on, I notice the purple, clay-like consistency of the poop. One can only conclude that the missing play dough is not under the couch.
We have a delightful bath time, outside in the cold water as I glance next door to make sure our new neighbors aren't out.
I bundled Doodle up, zipped her jammies up her back in efforts to avoid another poop disaster and laid her down for her nap. Elliot woke up 15 minutes later. I glanced up at the clock... 12:30.
Doodle was up by 2:30. Elliot never went back down. My husband called home from work and asked if it was a good night for him to play softball.
I went off on some dramatic rant. Something like: "If he wanted to kill me off, collect the insurance and hire a live in nanny before 7:00... then he could play softball that night."
I guess I overreacted a bit. We aren't speaking now. Don't worry... we'll be fine. It's the first fight we've had in a long time... so it's bound to be a doozy. On the other hand... I guess I shouldn't be so shocked at my angry and dramatic two year old. She gets it honestly.
P.S. Please excuse all the typos and inconsistencies... I believe I've had to get up at least 20 times since I began this post. It's either 'proof read' or pee... Mom's always choose 'PEE'.
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