Having a two year old is pretty much exactly like picking up a belligerent drunk guy off of the street.
He might be funny and say silly things that don’t make a lot of sense.
He might be overly affectionate and maul you with lovins one minute, then be screaming at you the next.
He might pee on your kitchen floor for no reason.
He might get violent when you tell him he can’t do something.
He might get overly emotional at the drop of a hat.
Add to that, he only speaks broken english… to which he hates when you correct and may get violent/emotional/angry about as well.
Yep, that pretty much sums up what life with a two-year-old is like.
It’s pretty strange. You give birth to this teeny tiny, pink, squishy baby who just sleeps and eats all the time. They’re the nicest thing in the world. Then they get all wiggly and smiley and cute and for a long time, they just love you so much. You love being their mom because they just love. you. so. much. It’s the greatest thing in the world. You’re like, “oh my gosh! let’s have 15 babies!” Then they start walking and you’re like “okay, this is new and kind of exhausting, but look! they still just love me so much, so everything is great.” THEN……. they turn two.
You know that baby you had? That cute pink, squishy, smiley one? Yeah, she’s gone. You know the one that just loved you so much and wanted to hold you all the time? Gone too. (Except when they want something they can’t have, of course.) You’re left with a bigger baby that looks kind of like that cute one you had before, except she turned into a belligerent, angry, naughty little being whom you sort of wish you weren’t responsible for. Sort of.
And then you’re like, “ohhhh…..only children. It’s all so clear to me now.”
If you know a mom of a two-year-old, please bring her the largest diet pepsi you can find and ask her to sit down for a minute while you tame her little beast. It’s not a walk in the park, I tell you what.
But here’s the thing.
Even when that baby is so naughty every minute of her waking hours, when she pees on things and makes messes everywhere she turns, when she cries and whines as her way of communication for the ENTIRE day… somehow, someway… you still love her like the day she was all tiny and pink and squishy and they laid her on your chest for the first time.
The miracle of motherhood! A miracle, I say!
And in the wild world of toddlerhood, sometimes when you least expect it, but exactly when you need it most, you’ll get a little glimpse of your sweet baby in there somewhere.
And you remember how precious she really is. How blessed you really are.
And then you’re like… “ohhhh.. 3rd babies. I get it now.”
And then she wakes up.
How did you/are you surviving the toddler years? Lots of prayers and diet pepsi? Me too.