This is going to sound crazy to those of you who don't have children yet, or for those of you who haven't had young children in a very long time, but life is often chaotic when raising the under five crowd and even the most basic tasks seem impossible at times.
I know you're thinking it. "What does she do all day?" It's not like I have a job, right? My sole responsibility on this earth is to make sure my two year old is safe and healthy. How hard can that possibly be?
Well, ridiculously difficult in ways you can't even begin to imagine, is my answer. The toughest part of it being the fact that you can never ever ever let guard down. A simple trip to a library or parking lot becomes a nightmare of epic proportions when your kid thinks it's hilarious to run away from you , weaving in and out of the aisles & spots like a tiny pinball, making them nearly impossible to catch fast enough to avoid irreparable harm. And I don't care how good of a parent you are, your kid will try this. In fact, I'd venture to say that the better of a parent you are, the more so your child will have the confidence to assert his or her independence and test their limits.
It means catching the cup of juice before it hits the ground because they doesn't understand the concept of gravity yet. Fielding the "What's that noise mama? When can we see a train mama? Where the moon go mama? Who that big man in the store, mama?" And then making the crying stop when they don't understand that trains don't run at night and you can't stand out in 20 degree weather waiting for one to roll on by. It's playing hide and seek in the closet 24 times in a row because "Peek a Boo, mama!" and reading the same book over and over again until you start to hate it.
It also means finding the entire roll of Charmin in the toilet because "Look, mama. I flush!" It's teaching them what a highway is, how to climb the stairs and why you don't throw things on the floor. It's giving them an option between the Thomas shirt and the Cars shirt because "No like Buzz Lightyear shirt, mama!"
It means making homemade zucchini bread, white bean dip, mashed potatoes, butternut squash soup and flax muffins until they decide to eat three bites of something because you're afraid they're going to turn toxic orange from all the mac n cheese.
It means being forced to shop at a mall or a Target because you can't get out of the car for two minutes to buy something and then put a toddler back into the car seat again without mass hysteria. There are no quick errands, or quick anything for that matter. Getting out of the house at any given time is a 45 minute process. That's right. Between chasing them to get dressed, averting disasters every three minutes, changing the channel because they change their minds every thirty seconds and inevitable diaper changes right before you walk out the door, the odds of being on time are always stacked against you.
It's a constant struggle between temporary gratification (you get the cookie right now because the entire store isn't interested in hearing you cry right now) and raising a decent human being (you will not get a cookie because you can't always get what you want in life and i flat out refuse to raise an entitled brat). You have to be okay with the stares at the grocery store, the unsolicited advice and ignorant remarks. You have to make small goals, like apple chips. And you have to give yourself a break when things don't go as planned.
I may have sliced off 1/16th of my right thumb with a mandoline today, but apple chips have been made. And that's good enough for right now. The fact is, I am incredibly lucky to spend every chaotic, loud, messy moment with a tiny human being that I am fortunate enough to be able to shape, inspire and hug a hundred times a day. I will continue to set ridiculously small goals and live in the moment, because it's the in between that matters. It's the kisses on a boo boo, cheers when he gets the puzzle piece right, sweet little giggles when I drop something on the floor, and spinning around the living room until we fall down laughing that counts. My son will only be this age once. The rest of it can wait.
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