At this time last year we had a two year old and a four month old and I could not imagine what the light at the end of the tunnel might look like. I know I've said it before, but the baby part of raising kids is not my favorite part, and I'm not actually that good at it. I stumble through my days in a sleep-deprived stupor and barely manage to shower and get dressed most of the time. Makeup is out of the question, as is doing anything with my hair. Which is why I've spent the last year or so with it in a ponytail every day.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still not great at the everyday things. You know, like cleaning the house. Doing the dishes. Scrubbing the toilets. In fact, if you were to come to my house on any given day you would find 1) a large number of dishes in the sink - s0 much so that they may have spilled over onto the countertops. Which leads to 2) a foul and mysterious odor coming from either the sink, or from the trash that Tim hasn't yet emptied, and 3) a toilet that you use, but kindly don't mention how badly it needs to be scrubbed. And later I lift the lid and see what you must have seen when you were in here earlier, and am flooded with embarassment. Yet surely my husband is not the only one who leaves streaks in the toilet?
When we're invited to friends' homes for playdates, I am always amazed by how clean and generally uncluttered their lives seem to be, especially in regard to the kitchen. As I wade through the clutter in our own kitchen, yelling "Joshua if I step on this speed-racer one more time, it is going in the trash, and I mean it!" I wonder how in the world these other moms manage to keep their homes so spotless, and fix meals, and play with the kids . . . it eludes me. I'd rather lay on the living room floor with both boys blowing raspberries on my belly, than sweep the fallen food from beneath the table. I'd much rather watch the birds with Jonah, or watch Joshua color, than do the laundry. How is there enough time in one day for all of these things?
Although before I get ahead of myself, I do have to mention that we've actually been cleaning up the toys before bed lately. It happens in the form of a race, usually . . . it's how I manipulate . . . uh, motivate . . . Joshua into action. You see, I have to be the announcer ("Mama, can you be the announcer, and is Chick Hicks catching up to me?") who makes the whole thing a car race. And, of course, Chick Hicks (of Cars fame) is always just one step behind him. Like this:
"And here comes Joshua, around the bend, but oh no, does he see the books that need to be put away? No ladies and gentlemen, I think that Chick Hicks might get those books put away first. Oh, who will win the race?" At which point Joshua, of course, races over and puts the books away while I gush announcer-like at how fast and good he is. And yes, if you were wondering, it does get a little tedious night after night and room after room. It's so worth it after they're in bed, though, walking through a living room that's toy free.
Winning is a big thing, lately, for Joshua. When Tim and I have taken separate cars somewhere, Joshua turns it into a big race each time. He pushes past Jonah so that he can enter a room first, and he often races on his little "yellow car" with the next door neighbor. It's actually a point of contention for both of us, since the neighbor girl is 7 and Joshua's just nearing 4 (but is still the size of a small 3 year old). You see, somewhere along the way, kids learn to cheat. They learn to cut corners to get ahead. So as I'm watching Joshua and Kayla race down the sidewalk, I see that Joshua's actually pretty fast at that part. Then Kayla jumps up early and turns around pushing her car back up the sidewalk. "I won, again" is the usual pronouncement. The thing is? It's so hard on him to lose every time. And the other thing? It's so hard on me for him to lose every time. So I'm working on keeping my mouth shut, and it's difficult to surpress the Well, Kayla is so fast in the 7 year old girls' division, and Joshua wins the 3 year old boys' division! type comments. And I'm trying not to moderate their races (did you ever notice that the onyourmarkgetsetgo person always starts ahead of everybody else?) by setting up touch-points, or lanes, or whatever else. And when Joshua comes over crying, and asking "Why does Kayla want to win every time?" I do my best to soothe him and send him back to the race, as noncommital yet encouraging as possible.
And I thought this parenting thing was supposed to get easier.
Jonah might end up being the large and physical one of the two, you know, since he climbs every possible surface he can wrap his little hands around. "Up, up, up . . . up dere." He's been climbing since before he walked. What a surprise it was to look over and see him on top of the kitchen table. At the top of the bunk bed ladder. On the upper level of the backyard playfort. We've had more than our share of scares with Jonah, and I can't imagine what is yet to come. What happens when he gets really brave? We've never been in that territory before; we're entirely familiar with the quiet carefulness of Joshua. But this exuberance for walking and climbing, and this general feistiness, is something new.
And the yelling. The yelling is new, also. Anytime I leave the room, he's yelling with everything in him "MAAAMAAA!" He and Joshua have yelling wars at the dinner table that they think are the most hilarious thing in their lives. It's all gibberish, and I guess it's actually a little funny . . . they just yell gibberish back and forth, with a little giggling mixed in. I guess by not stopping it, I might be encouraging it? But honestly, I think, whatever keeps them entertained is worth it. I think that until we're in a restaurant, that is. Jonah has no internal censor . . . he's only 16 months . . . what else should I expect? But I've grown complacent with my nice and neat, peaceful and quiet eldest child so I hardly know what to do with the food throwing, spoon banging, banshee child seated next to me. Just when we think we have things under control these little ones surprise us with something new to handle, something different to deal with. It's exciting and fun, but sometimes I'd just like a little lull in the roller coaster ride of raising them. Just to catch my breath before the next thing comes along.
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