Mommy, what happened!?

It’s 6:13 AM, and I can barely open an eye. Little’s doing his I’m-about-to-wake-up stretches. I hold my breath, hoping with every fiber of my being that if I don’t move, he’ll magically fall asleep. Fat chance. He abruptly sits up, looks at me with his sweet brown eyes, looking quite refreshed actually, ‘Mommy, over dehr!’ He points to the living room. This means he wants to play.
‘One more minute,’ I whisper.

‘No!’

‘Please.’

‘No!’

‘I’ll be your best friend.’

‘No!’

‘I can’t move.’

‘No!’

Like that ever works. I sit up, too fast. As I wait for the dizziness to pass, Little examines my face.
‘Mommy, what happened?’

‘I sat up too quickly and blood rushed to my head. I’m waiting it out.’

‘Mommy, what happened?’

‘My head is spinning a little, but I’m fine’

‘Mommy, what happened?’

‘I got an ouchie, but I’m ok’

‘Mommy, what happened?’

‘Someone woke me up at 6 AM’

‘Mommy, what happened?’

‘A unicorn came by and took my phone’

He seems good with this one. This is hubby and I’s favorite game. We go back and forth with Little, until he gets an answer that satisfies him and he no longer asks the same question. We like to guess which answer does it for him. First we start with the truth, then we embellish, and sometimes we just make something up for fun.
Little and I head over to the kitchen where I make his milk, and explain that it takes a short while to warm it. We are still working on this one. Toddlers never quite understand why they can’t have what they want at the immediate moment they want it. We sing the ABC’s to help with the wait. 

As he drinks his milk, I lay on the couch and actually fall asleep for two minutes. This is usually a seemingly inviting time for Little to jump on my head. 

When Little was around one, people would repeatedly tell us two is an increasingly more difficult age. I would get so angry, asking hubby why people are always so negative. Negative or not, they were right. Two is hard. So much going on in their little bodies. A lot of new information coming in on the daily, they don’t know how to control the intensity and shifting of feelings from happy to sad which happens in a matter of seconds. Their thoughts and feelings hit them so intensely, they battle between independence and comfort and security. It’s tough being little. Tougher than we, as adults could possibly understand.
But it’s tough on mommy’s and daddy’s too. Sometimes I’d love to drop to the floor, kicking and screaming. I imagine it would be a great release. Since that would be a little ridiculous I try to anticipate the feeling and take little breaks here and there. Whether it’s to go to the kitchen and grab a coffee or promising myself a treat or some “me” time when Little goes to bed. It helps. 
Or you just hang on to the little voice that sincerely says, ‘Tank yew, mommy. Olive you.’
Olive you too, buddy. 

Baby steps and this phase too shall soon pass,

Roxy

  

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