When I’m more sleep deprived than usual, I have nearly zero tolerance for 3-year-old Toddler Boy’s current phase (please, dear God, let it be a phase) of Stage 4 OCD. I don’t know if there are really stages of OCD but if there are, Stage 4 is the worst. Here’s how the last 12 hours or so have gone:
9:00 PM: Put Toddler Boy to bed.
9:10 PM: Put Toddler Boy to bed again.
9:20 PM: Put Toddler Boy to bed again.
9:30 PM: Toddler Boy finally asleep.
9:31 PM: Baby Boy wakes up. Feed Baby Boy.
9:45 PM: Put Baby Boy back to bed. Sit down to read email, check computer, see if anyone is reading my blog.
10:30 PM: Decide I should probably go to bed just in case, by some miracle, Baby Boy sleeps for more than 2 hours. Get ready for bed.
10:45 PM: Head hits pillow.
10:46 PM: Baby Boy wakes up. Decide I’m going to follow advice of friends, family, and pediatricians and let him cry. Turn off monitor in master bedroom, go sit in living room to watch TV and wait for him to stop screaming.
11:30 PM: Give up. Afraid screams will wake up Toddler Boy (Baby Boy’s, not mine). Feed Baby Boy. Go back to bed.
1:31 AM: Baby Boy wakes up. Feed him. Decide it’s too much effort to go back downstairs to master bedroom. Fall asleep in guest bed next to Baby Boy’s cradle.
3:27 AM: See 1:31 AM.
5:46 AM: See 1:31 AM.
6:15 AM: Husband comes up to tell me he’s going for a bike ride before everyone gets up. Go back to sleep.
6:25 AM: Baby Boy wakes up, apparently for good. Feed him. Take him downstairs, put him in the jumper, and try to sleep on the couch.
6:48 AM: Baby Boy crying. Diaper blow out up the back, but don’t realize this until I lay him on the bed to change him. Run out of baby wipes. Race to kitchen for more wipes, hoping he won’t fall off bed and/or spread more blowout all over bedspread. Change Baby Boy. Clean baby poop off bedspread.
7:02 AM: Toddler Boy wakes up.
So when Toddler Boy grabs the loaf of bread I finally made after putting it off for about 6 months and starts digging into the middle of it, I react less than calmly. I make him some toast, put fake butter on it and fold it in half, knowing that won’t fly but, because I’m a masochist, decide that he’s about to learn some life lessons.
“NO! I want jelly!!!”
“Jelly is too messy right now.”
“No. Just eat it.”
I put it on a plate and set it on the counter.
“No. Go sit in your chair and eat it.”
“Mama, I want a big plate.”
“Mom?” I hate it when he calls me “mom” and not “mama” for some reason. Probably because it means he’s growing up.
“I don’t want water. I want juice.”
“That is juice. Look, it’s purple.” Actually, it’s like 10% grape juice, 85% water and 5% toddler backwash. Because even though I bought that juice for $0.04 after sales and coupons, I’m still too cheap to give him full-strength juice. I mean…because I don’t want him to have all that sugar, even though it was originally 100% juice. That’s what I meant to say. Also, the longer I can stretch it out, the longer I can go without having to expend the effort to make more.
Toddler Boy finally eats toast and drinks “juice”.
“Mama, can I have some Cheerios?”
I give him a bowl of dry Cheerios. He hasn’t figured out yet that cereal is usually eaten with milk. I don’t plan on telling him anytime soon.
He comes over and puts his cereal on the table by my chair and climbs up with me.
“Mama, can you get my Cheerios?” The bowl is literally 6 inches away from him.
“No, you get it.”
“MMMMMAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! I CAN’T REACH IT!!!”
“Yes you can.”
He gets the bowl and eats the Cheerios. Then he goes and finds a box full of small toy animals. Like 200 of them.
“Mama, can you open this for me?”
I open it (good move, Mom). He dumps animals on floor. He finds one he wants to play with and walks away.
The dogs are standing at the door to go out. I ask him to let the dogs out. He does it while singing “WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? WHO? WHO? WHO?” at the top of his lungs.
I crack up and all is forgiven.