Last week Ryan had what we think was the flu. This week I somehow got a cold. I thought the benefit of never going anywhere was that you also never got sick.
Lies. All lies.
So far Wyatt is still in tip-top shape. Running around, screaming at the dog, and destroying the house.
The point is, I’m losing it. I’m surviving almost solely on Dayquil and ramen noodles. Oh, and thin mints. God bless those Girl Scouts.
Anyway, as I shuffled around the living room earlier in a drug-induced stupor, trying to pick up the pieces of the toddler tornado that blew through, I started thinking about all the important things that destructive little human has taught me about myself.
While this list is heavily influenced by sleep deprivation and the strongest over-the-counter-medication my middle class income can buy, I still think it’s valid.
1. I have no idea where anything goes. I do ridiculous things like put toys in the toy bin, when clearly they belong on the floor or random drawers or the hamper or stuffed down in the couch cushions. I put the hats and scarves in the hat and scarf drawer, when their rightful place is obviously the dog bed. Dirty laundry. Picture albums. Shoes. Pillows. He has to constantly show me where they go. Really, I’m not sure why I try. I just keep getting it wrong.
2. I’m unfit to go anywhere alone. The bathroom. The kitchen. The bedroom to frantically look for a pair of earplugs. I require constant supervision. Frankly, I’m not sure how I made it this long without someone watching my every move.
3. I save the best food for myself. Even if what I’m eating came from the exact same
box pan, it’s better than all the other food. I don’t mean to do it. But I somehow I save all the extra awesome pieces for myself. Otherwise, why would a one year old need to crawl up my leg, slap the fork out of my mouth, then crawl back down to eat the food off the floor?
4. I would probably negotiate with the terrorists. Every night a tiny, shrieking human holds my bedtime hostage. And every night I offer him anything he wants in exchange for shutting up and going to sleep. If I’m counting correctly, I currently owe him 97 pints of ice cream, 12 ponies, 36 trips to Disney World, and all the annoying noise-making toys that will fit in the house. Tonight I plan to offer to buy him another house to store all the overflow toys that won’t fit into this one. I am weak.
So tell me, what have your kids taught you about yourself?