Some days run smoothly.
Others, are like today.
It started out normally, with babies waking up, their adorable little bed-head hairs sticking up all over. Breakfast was Oatmeal.
Then we were off to run errands and check on the dry-wall progress at the new house. I left the house a wreck, and dishes not washed, which I rarely ever do. Because we were out of coffee.
I. Mean. Y’all. I didn’t sleep well last night because I left a light on in the living room and my body didn’t process it enough to realize WHY I was tossing all night….until 5am when I got up to turn it off and then…my mind started going.
You know that feeling, where your brain crosses over from “50% asleep” to 70% awake, and you suddenly panic, because you know that falling asleep again will now be difficult. So you *try* to make yourself get sleepy again, which is like trying not to think….it just leads to more thinking…and less sleeping.
Then, an hour later I finally did fall asleep and had one of those dreams where we had just bought a house and later discovered about 5000 sq feet of “surprise-massive-project-can’t-afford-it” secret rooms.
So anyway. We left the house in a rush because I needed coffee.
4 hours of errands, and crying, exhausted children later, I still had not been able to track some down. See, I’ve become picky about my brew, and the local shops don’t have drive-thru’s and if you’ve ever taken 3 children into a super cool coffee shop…let’s just say that if you haven’t been judged in a while, you should do that. Take 3 frustrated kids into a hipster coffee shop. {why do stylish people make such amazing coffee???}
An-y-way. We finally got home and everyone took a nap (except me, because, remember those dishes?) which is also, ironically, when I finally got my coffee, after having purchased some organic deliciousness at Costco…oh, Costco…
Oh, but first, before the naps. I yelled at Henry.
My sweet Henry who is so tender and sensitive. Who tells me every night at bedtime “I can’t wait to see you in the morning!” Who rarely needs a firm tone, let alone to be yelled at. So we hugged, and I apologized, and explained how Mommies sometimes don’t do the right thing. How I am still learning how to be a good Mom. Which is why I need Jesus. Why we all do. I told him how I love him and never want to yell and that it wasn’t ok that I did.
And he forgave me.
After that, I decided that tonight would be nice and peaceful which it was, until Etta made this face
and started screaming while waiting for her dinner: aka soft-boiled egg yolk. You. Guys. I never had an appreciation for high-pitched drama until birthing a daughter. So, I finally got that freaking egg boiled, and had it in a dish, ready to go, at precisely the same moment that Miles decided to pee in the toilet for the first time ever. There has been plenty of peeing outside the diaper (the couch, the rug, trees, trash cans, water bottles…and I’m a neat freak so, rawrggggg, I try not to flip out but, thank God for the shop-vac.) I’m assuming that today was the day, because he got a new potty seat during all of our errands running.
Not the one I wanted which was gray, and simple and not horrendous looking.
THIS ONE:
But when I picked up the gray one Miles made this face
{anyone else’s kid’s faces go completely flat when they cry?}
And sometimes, you’ve just got to pick your battles. Plus, I mean, this peeing in the toilet thing was totally his idea, so I wanted to be supportive….eeeeehhh.
But the passive-aggressive side of me smiles a little while I tell Miles to “pee on Elmo” as a way of getting back at that muppet for being so darn appealing to a 2 year old and ruining the peaceful color scheme we have going…
Anyhow, I gave the cup-o-yolk to Henry to feed Etta, and it fell, shattering everywhere (the downside of not using plastics!)
Oh! And I don’t remember when, but at some point during this oh-so-eventful hour Miles overflowed the bathroom sink and flooded underneath the counter and the floor…which I caught really quickly (thankfully, no damage…)
Anyhow, once the dish broke I threw both boys in their room to clean it up as well as to keep them from slicing their toes open on shards of what used to be a tiny, pretty bowl. This, while continuing to shower Miles with loads of praise for having crossed over from someone who sits in pee, to one who sits to pee.
Meanwhile, Etta had resumed screaming because dinner had been so close that she could see it, and then it was taken from her. Poor girl, but at 20 lbs and 7 months she’s hardly suffering…
1 boiled egg, 1 *almost* cleaned up floor, and 1 *not really* cleaned up little boy’s room later Etta got her dinner.
Then, I finally got around to giving Miles his “potty” treat of 3 chocolate chips.
And GUESS WHAT THAT LITTLE CHUBBY, DELICIOUS, CURIOUS-GEORGE-TWIN CHILD DID??”
He first gave one chocolate chip to his brother, and then one to me. Leaving only one for HIMSELF.
And then I nearly died inside.
And then I also I also became overwhelmed with knowing that, I’m not actually getting it all wrong all the time.
Miles, my 2 year old with a passion for eating like none other. GAVE AWAY THE FIRST OF HIS HARD-EARNED TREAT. Unprompted.
If you have been around many a 2 year olds you understand how beautiful this is.
This is giving away 2/3 of your paycheck.
This is giving away 2/3 of your tax refund.
My amazing, spirited boy. Who tests me all day, every day. Who creeps closer to whatever I have said not to touch, just to see if I mean it. Who pushes the ottoman further away from the couch just for the thrill of “hoping” he will make it when he jumps.
He’s getting it. The CORE of who we have prayed for him to be: kind, generous, thoughtful.
You Guys. He’s getting it!
Despite me.
Miracle.
live well. be well.
