Some of These Days

Having a two year old is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done. I know, GROUNDBREAKING. But honestly, it is. They’re absurd, irrational little beings. Yesterday, for example, we had plans to go to the beach. Sam LOVES the beach. Loves it. “Babing suit? BABING SUIT?” is a common refrain around here. The day after we came back from North Carolina, she threw a giant tantrum because she couldn’t walk to the beach in ten minutes or less.

However, yesterday — the ONE DAY out of the hundred days this summer that she’s ASKED to go to the beach when we are ACTUALLY GOING TO THE BEACH — she announced, while buck naked on the couch, “I don’t WANNA go to the beach!” (This was obviously preceded by, “I don’t WANNA put on a diaper!” OKAY THEN. HOW ABOUT YOU NOT PEE ON THE COUCH?)

As for the beach, you know, fine, kid, but we are GOING TO THE BEACH. Except HAAA, we didn’t, because her beach partner and BFF fell and scraped her knee on the way to the car, refused to leave the couch HERSELF because she needed her boo-boo to feel better, and nothing would cure that except sitting with a warm Elmo ice pack on her knee and watching Mickey’s Clubhouse. So, you know, beach plan aborted, and they ran around screaming for two hours inside. Boo-boo was obviously cured.

This morning, she threw a tank-size tantrum because I wouldn’t let her drink my iced coffee. The GIANT ONE from Dunkin’ Donuts. Yes, child, let me load you with 3,000 milligrams of caffeine, ensuring that you refuse to sleep until the second grade.

And quirks! HER QUIRKS. You guys, she is obsessed with her frog boots, but for some reason she only associates them with a bowl of strawberries and blueberries. It’s … weird. “Mommy, berries, please!” Beat. “I NEED MAH BOOTS!” And there she is, booted and berried and completely happy. The reverse, for the record, is also true. “I wanna wear my boots!” *runs off, puts boots on* “MOMMY! I NEED MAH BERRIES!”

Ridiculous. I told you. RIDICULOUS.

But then — oh, then — she is the sweetest. It’s like mood swing central up in here. She loves to be tickled and snuggled and will say, “Mommy!” so softly and with such affection, I could die happy right there on the spot. Physical affection is her game, and I love it. I LOVE it. All down time is spent against me with as little space between us as possible. “Sit with me?” she asks on an hourly basis at least. “Sit with ME, Mommy!” And DUH, I DO. Moments later, she’s wiggling into position, moving my arm to the exact location she prefers it (on her hip) and sticking her foot in my face. “Rub mah foot? FOOT?” And like some kind of slave, I do. Always.

Tonight, oh holy God, she sat with Adam and told him how much she missed him today. Later, she took my face in her hands and said, “Oh, MOMMY. I love you.” I am typing this from beyond the grave, because that moment killed me. KILLED ME.

Five minutes later, she’s refusing to go to bed until she has “JUICE! SNACK! JUICEEEEE! SNACCCCCCK! NO NIGHT-NIGHT!” and hurling herself dangerously off the couch in frustration. When night-night did finally commence, she was asleep in approximately three seconds. The harder they protest, the harder they fall, those little contrarian crazy people.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bury myself in a 28-ounce glass of wine.

(That’s my kid! She’s so beautiful, isn’t she? I KNOW, THIS WHOLE ENTRY WAS SO INDULGENT. Photo taken by the mom of the aforementioned be-boo-boo’d toddler and one of Sam’s BFFs, the woman I mention ALL THE DAMN TIME, but come on, how talented is she? Megan, of Megan Jane Photography.)

Have a great weekend!

*Andrew Bird. So … has he ever been known to date anyone? Is he married? JUST ASKING, FOR MAYBE FANTASY PURPOSES.

40 comments August 3rd, 2011