Thursday, August 15, 2013
7am - You woke up and started singing to yourself. The words "Milky Milky" were sung to the "Hello Song" tune (as are most of the songs you sing, it is obviously your most favoritest song in the whole world).
7:30am - I finally get you out of your crib, after I listened to you sing from the comfort of my own bed, unwilling to place my feet upon the floor to begin the day. When I get you out, you instantly ask for a popcicle, or how you say, a "pop-el". Cutest thing ever, but "No" I tell you, you have to eat breakfast for heaven's sake, goofy child. So I plop you down on the white couch that is soiled with your milk, food, dirty toes, and mostly Heidi's spit-up, and turn on Elmo. "Elmo!!!" You ask for a pop-el again, I tell you, "You need breakfast first." So I make you a nice bowl of oatmeal and, feeling very kind, let you eat it on said soiled couch while you watch Elmo. Spoiled much?
8:00am - You take the last bite of your oatmeal, and in the same breath ask for the promised pop-el. Afterall, you did fulfill your end of the bargain. I hand you a popcicle cut in half, and help you push it up about 5 or 20 times.
8:30am Heidi wakes up. You ignore her because you are still watching Elmo and pretty much nothing else in the world exists while you are watching the beloved Elmo. So Heidi eats her breakfast then I get ready for the day while you are in "TVLand."
9:00am - I put Heidi in her carseat and you realize we are going somewhere, so you start calling for your shoes. "Shoes! Shoes!" you call, as if they will answer you back. There they are! You happily let me put them on, and no sooner is the second shoe velcroed and you are off the bench and at the door pulling at the handle. We are going to Goodwill today, you lucky girl. I mean, its Dollar Thursday, like I would let you miss out on that Avery child. Again, so spoiled.
9:30am - We are in Goodwill and you found a little tricycle that you think I am going to buy you. I'm not paying $10 for that piece of junk, I say. You start throwing a fit, and I solicit many sympathetic looks from fellow shoppers who have "been there." I decide it is time to go since you are being your crazy self, and again tears start rolling, you wont walk, you won't let me put you in the double stroller. So what are my options at this point. That's right, I carried you like a football all the way out to the car, while pushing Heidi in the double stroller.
10:00am - We are driving home, but then I get a wild-haired idea to go to another Goodwill since I apparently am a masochist.
10:15am - We attempt to walk in the doors of Goodwill #2. Attempting. You decide at the exact moment I am struggling to push a double stroller through the non-automatic doors that you are going to lay down, on the floor, like as in lay your cheek against the nasty goodwill floor as I am still half-way in and half-way out, trying not to run you over with the stroller. Thankfully some kind-hearted folks saw my dilemma and helped me out with the door. Goodwill #2 was an absolute nightmare. (Although I did score a wicked awesome lamp. I love lamp.) You were so out of control and being a rotten two-year old that even a lady who didn't speak english tapped me on the shoulder and attempted to give me parenting advice. I smiled as politely as I could muster and told her we were fine, you would get over it. And you did. Until about 5 minutes later, then you were on it again, not over it like I thought. So many prepositions! Oh wait, is that a pair of brand new mary-jane, red shoes for Heidi, oh I think I will grab those. After the shoes I was determined to leave, but of course you weren't. So again, football hold, people staring, wonderfulness.
10:45am - Walking out of goodwill #2, in the middle of the hot parking lot, you rip your hand out of mine and sit down on the asphalt. Cars are coming, and I drop my new lamp. Nice. I quickly grab you, and you are crying because the asphalt was hot, and I somehow get you loaded in the car a midst your kicking and back arching.
11:00am - Home at last. You go to time-out. And Avery, you are the best at time-outs, honestly. You sit in the timeout chair in your room and you NEVER move until I tell you time is up. Seriously, its lovely. You can be a very good girl when you want to be, but for the good part of today, you did not want to be.
11:30am - You go down for an early nap, because lets face it, you've had a rough morning and we could all use a nap.
1:30pm - You are in your crib still, but clearly not sleeping. I hear a lot of singing and bouncing, which is pretty typical, but usually after TWO HOURS of being in your crib you have fallen asleep by that point.
2:30pm - Still making quite a racket in your room, I decide if you are still awake at 3pm I will get you out even though I know you didn't sleep a wink. On a normal day you sleep for 3.5-4 hours, solid. So this was really weird.
3:00pm - All is quiet in your room, so I think you finally fell asleep, but as I approach your door something hits my nose like a slap in the face. It is coming from your room. My heart sinks as I realize what I am about to walk into as I open the door.
GRAPHIC PICTURE BELOW, SCROLL AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
My eyes confirmed, what my nose already knew. You pooped yourself and created art with it. All over the crib rungs, all over your hands, and obviously smeared all over your leg. It was one of those moments for me when all rational thoughts of what to do left me - so I did the only thing I could think of, grab the camera. Years from now, when you become a sophisticated woman, I want to stay humble and remember, you played in your own poop for an entire afternoon once, you flung your feces like a monkey. Gotta keep it real.
After I regained myself and snapped some nasty pictures, I grabbed your nasty self and took you straight to the back yard where I hosed your off like a dog. You took a bath, and I scrubbed your crib like nobody's business. (Thankfully Heidi was sleeping through all of this).
3:30pm - You ate lunch and pretended to eat your peanut butter sandwich because you knew if you finished it I would give the another promised popcicle. But I was on to your little game as soon as I saw the chewed up ball of bread and peanut butter that you spit out under the table. These popcicles really are making you get sneaky.
Skip a few uneventful hours where you behaved wonderfully and even told me to go "sleepy" while you pretended to sleep too. That was a fun game, I will play "sleepy" any day, anytime.
6:00pm - Daddy is home, and he is grateful he was absent for the whole poop catastrophe and you play in the backyard, with rosy cheeks because it is 108 degrees, and push a football around in your stroller. Heaven.
Dad chats with an old friend
I am pretty this picture is proof you need a haircut, but I am too afraid to cut your baby curls in case they never grow back. I love your baby curls.
Like mommy, like daughter, trying to run over the cat
Ah, your baby is so cute...
7:30pm - After a few more popcicles and a wrestling session with dad, your day is done and it is off to bed you go....with your blankie of course. Little Linus.
Your little two-year old self is about the darlingest thing that ever was and I love you to pieces, but seriously I would be totally okay if you never, ever, ever, ever smear your poop all over yourself again. Like for reals.