But There are Three More Months Until He Is Two

The phrase "terrible twos" is a misnomer. For anyone that does not know, it starts earlier. Much earlier. Like 8 months earlier as they begin down the path closer to two-dom. Well yesterday we hit some major roadblock or something because it was just awful. There were no "Watch out! Terrible two behavior approaching!" warning signs either. It began at lunchtime when I couldn't get the milk out fast enough. WaaaahhhhHH!!! milk! Milk! Milk! MiiiilllllK!!!! It continued after a shortened nap because of the garbage trucks (stupid, blankety blank garbage trucks!). The pinnacle was at dinnertime. J asked for a fork, which we always give him, and a spoon. I suspect he wanted the fork for his meat and the spoon for his beans. Well somewhere along the line I did something wrong. He kept asking for help. I thought he wanted help scooping the beans on his spoon, but when I did that, he went psycho on me and started screaming at the top of his lungs. So I let go of the spoon. He grabbed his plate, turned it over on his tray and picked up every bean that he could and proceeded to squeeze them in his hand while he screamed. He kept yelling "help! help! help!" I had no idea. I tried again to help with the fork and spoon. This time, he threw what was left on his tray onto the floor. This was just about the time that daddy walked in. He got all excited, "Dad-deeee!! Daddeee!" Are you kidding me? Oh no kid, you just put me through hell all day. Daddy's going to hear about this. Daddy didn't have to hear about it because he saw it all over the floor. He held down the urge to laugh. We eventually got J to clean up his mess without tears. That was the success of the day.

We figured an earlier bedtime would help calm him down and set him up for a better mood tomorrow morning. The one problem was that he decided to wake up every thirty minutes from 2 until 4:30. At that point I threw in the towel and just took him into the spare bedroom to sleep with me. He talked to himself for nearly an hour as I lay there not saying word. "Pee pee...poop (I changed his diaper so I knew he was clean). poop...pee...punter (hunter the dog down the street) amy (ambulance) choo choo (the train went by... stupid blankety blank train) daddy, mama, mommy, seepy, seepy, Jo-nah, jo-nah, jo-nah (well go to sleep J, it will help fix that!). After getting kicked in the face a few times, clobbered on the stomach, he finally collapsed on me and slept until 7. I think I slept for about 3.5 hours last night.

I then took care of a three month old this morning for four hours, which confused the heck out of J. He kept looking at me like, "Where did she come from?" He handled it fairly well. Her mom swore she was an angel. Except she has a cold, wouldn't take a bottle, and didn't want to be in her sling or swing, which she supposedly loves. It all ended well, but I am so glad these two days are over. We are hoping for a very silent night tonight.