Lately I have been promoting ritualistic behavior, as if something dark has been my driving force. I’ve noticed a parade of days with similar patterns, and a eerie fog lingers in my little world.
It is something dreaded and fierce has entered my perfect family portrait; something that makes most “sane” men and women scream out in the middle of the night… the terrible twos!
At the crack of dawn, my sweet angel, Brynn wakes (that’s about 5am here in Arizona). She doesn’t wake happy and smiling. She wakes screaming for me and requesting that not only I carry her into the other room, but I should gather everything that is precious to her in the first trip. With multiple blankets and pillows, as well, as my beloved two year old, we trek into the living room to settle on the couch and begin our morning ritual.
Starting out with chocolate milk, which she insists screaming at me for… if we so happen to be out of chocolate, she will scream juice and stomp her feet. We have made some progress in this area; she has begun to ask me instead of yelling at me… well unless we are out of chocolate, which just pisses her off.
Most days I am fairly alert, but in the last week or so I have been feeling like I am getting sick; congested. Fearing the worst the last couple of days, I have taken a bit of benedryl before bed to ward of this ever creeping allergy/cold. Benedryl helps me sleep, but it lingers in the morning making it difficult to really wake up when needed.
Brynn takes full advantage of these groggy opportune moments. Her favorite has to be the cereal dump and crunch, which covers the living room rug with bits of whatever she was screaming for half an hour earlier. What started as a small amount of nutritious goodness, easily transformed into a substance quite like shards of glass to the bottoms of my bare feet.
The other day as I was arousing from a somewhat sleep-like state on my comfy couch, I noticed Brynn wasn’t close by. I immediately sat up and looked around… nothing.
“Brynn,” I said, not shouting for the other two were still asleep, “Brynn.” I heard a noise in the kids’ bathroom and carefully walked the long hall, and peered inside. There she was by the toilet, smiling at me. In her hands were several colorful sticks, which looked a lot like crayons. Oh they were crayons, thankfully they were bathtub crayons which she retrieved from her cabinet under the sink.
Now don’t make the mistake of thinking that bathtub crayons make this alright. She hadn’t only colored the bathtub. She colored the toilet, the cabinet, the floor AND the bathtub. I believe she even managed to scribble some on that MOST heinous toilet plunger.
ANYway, I managed to clean up most of the mess. Bathtub crayons are meant to be used IN a bathtub full of water, so there is a lingering stain on the outside of the tub, which will require bleach…. keep your fingers crossed that it will take care of it, otherwise when we move out of this apartment the end of the month…. well… I don’t want to talk about it.
(I managed to snap a few photos of the above stated incident…. I will post them later. )
I know my mother will read this, and I hope she feels bad for wishing this on me :-P.
~2
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