Horrible night’s sleep, which included a nightmare of sexual assault…because I’m watching too much political news these days. I was awake at four, and on a positive note, completed my entire ninety minute exercise routine before the cherubs stirred. Even more rare, my son and daughter slept so long that I also was quite productive with my writing.
A meeting at a local coffee house during my son’s playgroup went well, and a new system for a the inevitable spontaneous feeding was phenomenal. I can’t believe such an approach never occurred to me before. I suppose it’s the expertise of a subsequent child. But, glorious system to assist with the relatively unpredictable aside, my part-time employment/volunteer work is pulling together so well that I wonder if I need to pinch myself. I would think this even if I continued to work entirely for free, but I received my first paycheck for a four-month project a couple days ago. It’s a small stipend, but will pay for a good amount of chocolate, tea, and the occasional ten dollar cardigan or dress. And, let me talk about the amazing cookies I discovered at this exceptionally expensive establishment. The amount of butter involved preserves the day old discounted confections, and my taste buds were singing my praises hours after the cookies were consumed.
On the way home, we stopped at a local orchard that has a small assortment animals. Little Man lasted forty-five minutes, eating the apple he pilfered from me. He trotted along shrieking at the penned residents. This visit he ignored the goats and sheep, but once again gawked excitedly at the chickens screaming, “Cluck! Cluck!” with delight. His favorite fare these days seems to be the pumpkins for some unknown reason. I wore Warrior Queen, watching him as bliss consumed me. I followed my son around the area to the soundtrack of goats possessing the distinct bleats of old men attempting to rise from a recliner.
(Can’t you just hear this one saying, “Get off my lawn?”)
Time was uneventful once we arrived home. My son had a bath, and we rolled right along. I sensed Mr. Man might be succumbing to another cold. His sudden wailing wake-up only and hour into his nap confirmed he wasn’t feeling so grand.
My daughter was sleeping peacefully at the time, but that wouldn’t last long. Once downstairs, Little Man tantrumed for hours until just before my husband arrived home from work. My son’s displeasure awakened the fierce one, who took her big brother’s screaming as a challenge. After some time, she yielded to Mr. Man’s tirades, immediately ceasing to cry. I’m used to this periodic unpleasantness; she was surprised, and just stared at him in bewilderment. At one point she briefly looked at me aghast, before returning her attention to him.
Toddler tantrums are funny beasts. What does one do with a small unhappy person overcome with misery because I’m willing to do exactly what it is he wants? I’m not sure how long it lasted; time stalls during these events, but Little Man eventually calmed enough to utter, “Piggies out,” and climbed on my outstretched limbs. He nestled into my chest and neck while I read book after book. My daughter finally smiled midway through the second story. My son paused his affection to quickly retrieve his disease infested stuffed dog, but otherwise the three of us remained in the same position until we heard the garage door open.
I don’t like them so unhappy, and the duration of these episodes tries my sanity. But, once the dust settles from the uproar, I wish the snuggles to last forever.