As I sit here typing this I can hear the sounds of "MOM!!! , MOM!!!, MOM!!!!," and I have the urge to yell "shut the eff up", out of my open window. No, I am not saying yell that at my children, because my children have been in bed for over an hour. I am talking about the five year old, screaming down the street to her mother, who is apparently ignoring her as well. I feel bad for the kid, but I really don't want to hear the word "mom", come out of anyone under the age of 25's mouth after my two little monstrosities that I gave birth to are soundly tucked between the sheets for the evening. I also have the urge to go down the street and ask the mom why her five year old is screaming outside my window at 9 pm on a school night, or any night for that matter. I am not claiming to be the best parent ever, but Alex and Daniel will sure as hell never be outside, on a street, and screaming "MOM!!!" over and again at 9 pm at age five. For that matter they will know better than to disturb the whole neighborhood period. This will just you know, be forgotten when they are partaking in the debauchery that is being a college student in 16 or so years. As long as they don't knock anyone up, use drugs, get arrested, or drink enough alcohol that I have to drive or fly to wherever they are located and pay for alcohol citations or get them out of the hospital, we're good. After all, although I hope my children don't do the same stupid things that their father and I did in college, it's college and freedom from mom and dad for the first time in their lives, and I fully know that a product of two Frostburg State University graduates will not disappoint. Anyway, I got a little distracted thinking of my two little guys being college students and I think I got a little green at the thought, but my point to this was, I want to go ask the mom why she's not bathing her child, putting her in bed, reading her stories, you know, doing mom things. Sadly enough I don't have to ask why. I already know why. It's a shame that some women allow men and substances to come before their kids.
That however, was not the point of this story. I have not written in awhile. This is in part to not really having anything to say, and also being too tired to come up with anything that anyone would want to read. My first several posts were amusing and I have been struggling to find amusing things to write about, since most of my life exists at my job, which is something that I cannot discuss in this blog, even though it does have some amusing moments. I can promise some good material in the near future, as my "baby daddy" and I are taking our boys on a vacation to visit family and friends in North Carolina next month, and needless to say I am sure that there will be some interesting stories that will come out of spending 17 hours total in an enclosed space with two, two year old boys for that long. Hopefully no one gets too carried away and skips North Carolina and heads to the everglades to feed one or more of the occupants of the car to an alligator! Long drive aside, I am hoping for a nice visit with loved ones, and a fun visit to the Aquarium and the Children's Museum, maybe even the Serpentarium, provided mommy decides her dreams won't be too scary after visiting a bunch of deadly snakes and other reptiles. There will be more to come on this topic. I would like to continue this post with my first experience with a seriously bloody nose due to injury with Daniel.
My sons love bath time. I think that they would live in the bathtub, provided there was a TV playing a nonstop, alternating roll of Thomas and Friends, Barney, Peter Rabbit, and The Pajanimals, and a never ending supply of fruit snacks and "appa juic", as they put it. Their newest trick is quite possibly one of the things that pushes me from slightly annoyed to just straight pissed. They stand up and then throw their bodies back down into the water, which sends a tidal wave of water over the edge of the tub and onto the floor. You know, the floor that not only is a pain to clean up, but is also not owned by me, so if it gets warped and water damaged, I have to pay to replace it. So, as you may imagine, I am picky about the floor. It's also unsafe and could and did as Daniel discovered, cause a pretty substantial injury. They also like to take mouthfuls of bath water (YUCK!) and spit it all over my floor. Still irritating, but not quite as maddening as the tidal wave that comes over the edge when they plop down in the water. I warned Daniel about 10 times to stop on this past Sunday evening. As I reached over to drain the water as a consequence for plopping from both kids, he plopped down and hit his nose and face on the edge of the tub. His bottom teeth went into his lip and is still swollen two days later. His poor little nose began to bleed everywhere. It was on my shirt, on the floor in little puddles, all over him, and he was freaked out as was I. I placed a call to a nurse friend three times and then called my mom, who so helpfully told me to call my nurse friend, who wasn't answering.
My friend called me back about this time and calmed me down. I am pretty good with an injured child as far as staying calm, but the amount of blood pouring from my child's face was seriously getting me upset. To make the story shorter Daniel was fine. He is still a little swollen in the nose, but his swollen lip is starting to subside a bit. During Monday's bath he was extremely cautious. I thought maybe he learned. What do my readers think? If you said he did not learn, you would be correct. Tonight he was right back to plopping down, as if his nose still isn't swollen, and he wasn't saying "mommy, my mouth hurt", just yesterday. (I was sad he was in pain, even if it was by his own doing, but that just sounded so cute coming out of his mouth). Apparently the lasting effects were not all that memorable, and a lesson was not learned. He was right back to all his normal shenanigans tonight, spitting milk at dinner and throwing his plate at me when I took that milk, saying "bye mommy", and walking out the front door, when I'm only wearing a pair of boy short undies and a tank top with no bra, and making me chase him through the neighborhood. (I may eventually learn to keep full pants and a bra on at home), and of course plopping in the tub. I seem to have hit a difficult patch with my boys, especially Daniel at this point, but at the end of the day having them tell me they love me and snuggling with me at the end of the night makes all the hard work worth it to have the unconditional love of my boys. (Conditional as Aunt Paula puts it when they only want to snuggle with you if you have food or drinks in your hand). (Apparently this "terrible two" stuff only gets worse at three)???? Until next time.
Erica
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