Only one

I'm going to level with you: I struggle with the "should we have another kid" thing daily. 

To be honest, I'm jealous of the people who know what they want. Jealous of those to whom motherhood comes naturally. Jealous of those whose budgets can accommodate more than one child. Jealous of those who can quit their jobs to raise their children. 

But am I really jealous, or just second guessing myself because having one child isn't the norm?

Yeah, I don't know, either. 

The reality of the situation is that we are comfortable financially. The reality is that we can probably send one kid to college, but two would be pushing it. The reality is that we don't want to live paycheck to paycheck. 

The reality is that motherhood does not come as naturally to me as it does to some. Woah, easy there, Dr. Phil, let me explain: I love my son with a fierceness and depth that was previously unknown to me. If you touch him, I will kill you and bury you where your corpse would never be found. That being said, when you picture a mother, you picture someone gentle and beautiful and perfect and kind and loving...like my mother. Mothers are heroes. Mothers have balls of steel. Mothers are never wrong. 

I, my friend, am zero of those things. I am made of a lesser metal. I see my friends breeze through motherhood, my high school best friends handle two kids with obvious ease. (They're made of the same stuff as the Ladybug toddler whisperers.) And here I sit, with so much love in my heart for this tiny little terrorist, and yet no fucking clue what to do with him. Thank god for his daddy, the Forrest to his Bubba. 

The reality is that we like the simplicity of our family, of the three of us.  We are a trio of hillbillies, bound together by love and good old biology. We're tight, yo. 

So, maybe I'm not jealous. Maybe having "only" one child isn't a bad thing.

Herding cats

I would imagine that herding cats wouldn't be easy. Yowling, biting, hissing, screaming, belligerence, indifference, blood, and other miscellaneous bodily fluids. 

Which is EXACLTLY how I imagined the Ladybug fire drill today. 

Miss A told me at pickup that, along with the plethora of other activities, crafts, and jolly good times had by all, there was a facility-wide fire drill today. I couldn't help myself, and I laughed. Surely, the Ladybugs hadn't participated. I mean, really, it would be impossible to wrangle 5 less-than-two-year-olds and maneuver them outside in an orderly fashion. She had to be joking. I snorted in derision.

And then I was cheerily informed that, really, it went perfectly. She grabbed two, the other teacher grabbed two, and the most trustworthy toddler grabbed hold of Miss A's pant leg. Out they marched, without tears, biting, scratching, or the expulsion of boldly fluids. 

I stared at this mythical creature, this toddler whisperer. 

Ladybug Teachers 2, Mom 0.

Eff you, Jack Frost

Ah, winter.  A magical time for building snowmen, drinking not chocolate, and rosy cheeks after coming in from the cold. I am in close contact with people who love the season and genuinely look forward to it.

Not for this bitch.  Winter is an entirely different creature to old Sambo.

In the winter, my husband works 12 hour shifts, 5+ days a week.  Right now he's on thirds, and hats off to the families who do this shit all the time.  We've seen each other for exactly one hour each day for the last 3 days. We're both getting less sleep. He's exhausted.  I'm exhausted. G's exhausted. 

In the winter, it snows. Sure, it can be pretty.  Until you have to walk in it. Or drive in it. At 6 in the morning, snow is not pretty.  Snow is bullshit at 6 am. Snow turns 50 minutes of easy driving into 90 minutes of white knuckles and butthole clenching with zero visibility. 

In the winter, it's cold.  Because we're geniuses, we bought a 100 year old home with leaky windows and a complicated heating system.  To keep the winter wind from getting its pervy hands inside the house, we taped that plastic shit to every window, which is fun with a toddler, two dogs, and a cat.  There's no reasoning with these lunatics. In order to heat this old fucker of a home, we use a fuel oil furnace, a wood stove, a wood-burning boiler, and an archaic system of heaters and clockwise- running ceiling fans. We have become obsessed with both indoor and outdoor temperature, as well as cutting and splitting wood. And SOMEBODY has to empty the wood stove's ash tray and bring wood in the house...so back outside you go. 

In the winter, if you park outside, you have to start your car early and/ or scrape ice and snow off your windows. Also bullshit at 6 am.

On top of all this, you have to bundle up your toddler who has discovered the phrase "no way", walk his grumpy ass out to the car, shove him in his car seat, and then promptly remove every layer you just put on BECAUSE HE CAN'T WEAR A COAT IN THE CARSEAT FOR FUCK'S SAKE. 

67 days until spring. 

Shit my toddler taught me

1. You can take too large a bite of yogurt.  You would think, since it's not exactly a true solid, that a spoon would limit the size of a bite...but nope.  You can effectively shove so much yogurt down your throat hole that you induce vomiting.

2. Bubble baths are fucking terrifying. Previously, baths had been touch and go.  To spice up the toddler bath experience, we excitedly purchased a bottle of Mr. Bubble bubble bath.  The first time my son feasted his eyes on a bathtub full of bubbles, he latched his naked self onto my leg and began screaming in terror. We finally got him in the tub, but not without drama. Poor little guy kept making sure his feet were still there, underneath the flesh-eating mass of Mr. Bubble. 

3. Donuts are an acceptable form of bribery, but only in the morning.  To be bribed with a donut any other time of day is just lunacy, and not to be tolerated. 

4. Any size tractor can be ridden, if you put your mind to it. 

5. It is socially acceptable to tickle the feet of any adult, at any time. Through their shoes. While screaming.

6. Toe lint will NOT be tolerated. Each and every microscopic piece of lint MUST be diligently removed from between this kid's toes in order to prevent a blind panic. Even if you think you got it all, you better fucking do it again. 

7. String cheese is infinitely superior to cheese cubes. Since this tiny terrorist demands cheese constantly (not to eat, but only to carry around) we bought cheese cubes to minimize waste. Smart, eh? Wrong. All wrong.  Wrong shape, wrong size, wrong fucking color.

8. Anything that is hot, could be hot, has ever been hot, or is NOT COLD is considered to be boiling, and therefore incompatible with human life.  Blowing on the offending item repeatedly will resolve the issue. 

9. Curious George is a huge fuckup. 

10. A living room is easily transformed into a wrestling ring. Screaming "STEAMROLLER!" at Gage "The Rage" Haygood evokes an instinctual response: drop to the floor and roll over any offending being with total disregard for consequence.