So I had a list of things I wanted to share and write about.
Did I write it down?
No.
Did I tell myself to write them down?
Yes.
Did I?
No.
The old pantrygirl, BC, would beat me with a sharp stick.
The new pantrygirl, post child, says, "Eh, at least you took a shower and did something productive with your kid today."
Dad's day was nice. I was a total grumpus but DH was a darling and spent the morning after mass with TG allowing me some much needed 'me' time. Now 'me' time was a massage or a bath but it was still much appreciated. I got to continue work on restoring my computer. I also got to casually eat an entire vat of homemade guacamole while sorting through the mail and recyclables. jealous
The following day, DH took TG out for a continuation of Daddy-Daughter day allowing me to work in peace and quiet. (Something I can't do in my office as the construction crew out my window has brought in something that sounds like a ginormous spindle saw grinding it's way to the center of the universe.)
DH could tell, I was heading towards burnout and even with his insane workload, he realized for the sanity of the family, I needed to be able to work and sort through mail and laundry sans kids.
You know the picture of the kid pulling on the Mom's pant leg? You know the videos of kids talking non-stop to their parents? We have hit that stage of development. I swear, TG spoke for 5 minutes straight without stopping for air the other evening during dinner. It was a rare night that DH was with us so it was a bit easier for me than other nights. He kept listening intently than looking up occasionally if he needed an interpreter. Sometimes I got it. Other times, I sadly admit (mommy guilt), I tuned out and only caught bits and pieces.
Can you fault me though? I spent the entire day with this toddler that has a million questions and a fascinating imagination. I'm totally impressed and proud of her imagination but it's also extremely tiring to try to keep up with her. She gets frustrated that I don't get that she wants me to say 'knock knock' in a certain cadence and tone and she loses her schmidt. She can't fully express how she wants me to say it so she gets frustrated. I get frustrated because I swear I've said, 'knock knock' 15 times and each time it's the same as she has said it but it's still not what she's looking for.
My favorite line, "You need to pretend Mommy. Are you pretending?"
Yes, honey, I'm pretending to be sitting in your fire truck tricycle with you.
Sit on the trunk.
Mama can't sit on the trunk.
Why not? Pretend.
I am pretending. I cannot sit on it because baby and I can't fit in your trunk. I am pretending to be in your trunk.
Oh, ok. Fine. Kneel and follow me.
She then backs the tricycle into my knees and rams the back of her seat into her incubating sibling.
Ah, the joys of parenting a preschooler.
