So, kids are fun. Seriously. Because where else could you go for entertainment, challenges, absolute love, emotional endurance training, and housekeeping training, all in the same pint-sized package? Kids really are something incredibly precious. I say these things to remind myself why I’m not absolutely batsh** crazy yet. If I focus on the blessings they truly are, then I can grab the camera to document when the toddler dumps nail polish in his hair, rather than freaking out right away. (PSA, if this happens, copious amounts of baby oil, then lay the toddler down in the bathtub so the hair is submerged, and gently comb the nail polish out–it took me 30 minutes, but I’d assume the time will vary depending on the amount of polish and the amount of hair.)
My toddler can be either the sweetest, funniest, most loving child, or the terrorist from hell. There’s not really an in-between. He is constantly reminding me of that old rhyme: “There was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid.” When he is good, he is seriously SOOOOOO cute, and sweet, full of laughter, intelligence, bright, shining eyes, and he loves everyone. He is sweet to the dogs, loves to cuddle, is curious, and is, frankly, just wonderful. When he’s unhappy or knows he’s about to get in trouble, he is the devil. He is devious, sneaky, runs away from me, screams so hard it makes him quiver; he hits, yells NO!!! at the top of his lungs, throws things, and fights with a strength and speed that is, frankly, surprising in one so young. The dichotomy between the two aspects of him, while not at all uncommon in a toddler, never fails to surprise me and catch me off guard, and is the reason I walk that line between ‘Normal Mom’ and ‘Crazy Mom’ on such a regular basis.
So, if you ever feel like, as the parent of a toddler, you’re losing your mind, know this: You are not alone. You are NOT alone. You are NOT ALONE. We’re here–all of us who have gone before you to fight the potty training battles, all who are traveling the road of messes and tantrums with you, and all who will follow in your sticky jam-covered footprints well into the future. You are not alone, and I will always stand in solidarity with my sister-mothers out there, fighting the good fight to turn these wonderful little people into even more-wonderful older people. I am here for you. We are all there with you, and you are loved. Hang in there Mama–we got your back.