Oh, the joy. I went to bed last night with a 23 month old angel.
At 11:45am, that angel came crying into our room "mommy, mommy, mommy". See his daddy had decided to cough up both lungs and maybe even a spare one out of the bedside table. After Ep's 10 minute coughing fit, it wasn't surprising that we had a little crying visitor in our room. Heck, I would run to my mommy's room too if it sounded like barking monkeys were in my closet (which is directly behind our closet and near Ep's side of the bed).
I got a milk bottle and snuggled down with him. He couldn't get comfortable. Finally, he let out his own little bark...out his hind end. And then a monstrous burp from the top end. Ahh..maybe, we can sleep now? Nope, suddenly our bed had needles in it or something. He insisted to go back to his bed and mommy had to come too. He tried to pull me out of my bed by my big toe. No lie. He did.
At 3:45am, I returned to our bed. Then it was my turn to cough and try to get this mess out of my body. Ugh. Finally, sleep...sometime around 4:15am. That lasted 45 minutes until a crying boy once again entered our room and crawled into bed. He wanted more. The only thing he could be wanting more of at that time of night is milk...so I told him that DADDY will go get his milk. By my count, we all settled back into bed and fell asleep. However, its quite possible that Ep never returned to bed and was out dancing on the roof between 5-6am.
At 6:30, my loving husband woke me to ask if I wanted to take a shower before he left. I managed to get out of bed to enjoy a shower that didn't involve little hands going everywhere. Of course, Kale slept through it all and was still snoozing when I crawled back into bed with him, wet hair and all. I didn't fall back asleep, but just rested until he woke up around 7:30am.
Note to all: do not let him sleep that late. He wakes up being three years old and not so much of an angel. Or at least acting like it. And he peed the bed. Do not buy Huggies overnight diapers. Stick with the Pampers overnight diapers. Back to the instant three year old. He needed baberries. No not baberry oose. Bababerry bbmmmooooo (strawberry milk). Ok fine. Now, he is dressed and has two choices for strawberry drinks. As I got myself dressed, he managed to read a book that belongs to me, a book that belongs to his daddy, sort through a folder of material that belongs to his daddy, and take inserts out of my tennis shoes. That was all in 3 minutes.
As I work to get us out the door, he willingly takes his medicine. Thank you God. He likes the taste of amoxicillen. But then we hit the wall (not literally, but I thought about running myself into one).
I recently ordered him a set of Sesame Street Jibbitz. Those are the cool little things that go in his Crocs shoes and give him some toddler bling. When they arrived, we looked them over and oh my goodness I think I hung the moon because he was that excited about them. Ernie and Cookie and oh don't forget ELMO! I split them up between two pairs of crocs. So, no matter which pair he is wearing, he can have some of his friends with him. I intentionally put the Elmo with the helicopter one...as most days he insists on wearing his hecicaca. As I put those shoes on him this morning, I wondered who put tacks in his shoes. Because I barely got them on and he was pulling them back off. He wanted to wear the other pair. Fine, wear them. Nevermind the fact that you are saying you want to wear the Ernie pair (which is also with Elmo and the helicopter) but you are insisting to put on the cookie/oscar pair. Oh my goodness folks.
And then it was back to baberries. He had to have both cups, which were identical (way to confuse the kid mommy!) and he couldn't decide which one to drink and I thought he was going to have a melt down until I showed him which one had the baberry milk.
As I dropped him off at school, I told them that his pants are too long so they need to roll them at the waist and that he woke up being three today. His teacher was in the midst of getting everyone to try to potty and she wanted Kale to "try". She asked him if he wanted to try to potty. As I neared the door, I heard her laugh because apparently he told her no. She told him he was going to try anyway and it was time to take off his jacket. I left. Maybe by the time I pick him up, he will go back to being almost two.
For the record, I know that two are terrible. But I also know that three is worse than two! So, I will take two for now please. :)
Note to Mema: Ep picked him up from school yesterday and reported that he asked for you about four times on the way home. He asked me twice for you since....so you ARE missed!