I don't sugarcoat things. I don't make things up. But, I have been known to over-exaggerate, it's one of my finer qualities, just ask your Dad.
Anyone reading this blog might think I assume or portray you as 100% perfect, (which you are to me), when in reality you're not. That would be impossible- you're two! Things are not always cherries and marshmallows around here- they just usually are. People have told me now that we're on the cusp of three that three is more difficult than two. I loved two and still do. We're really close to three ... and I can't help but wonder what that's going to be like. I am excited! I think you should go out of two with a bang! Go big, or go home. Like:
A. Saturday, you and your bestie E. emerged from her room covered in magic marker. You showed everyone your hands, which resembled Smurfs, then after a little examination, it was noted you were both colored all over your legs, torsos, and backs. What cute, naughty little teamwork you two have!
B. Yesterday morning, you and I sat down on the carpeted square for Bible stories at Sunday school when you ran to the corner and shouted, I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN, and proceeded to snarl, glare, and pout your way to the end. I take it you weren't ready for your day to begin when I woke up at 9:30am? Just a hunch.
C. Last night you and I were laying in your bed reading and looking at your baby pictures- at your request. It was already 20 minutes after your bedtime, so I put everything away and shut off the lights per usual. You screamed and cried and wailed for your Mama. That is weird. I promise, that never happens. I can't think of anyone who goes to bed better than you, except for the Beagle. So I went back in and picked you up and swayed with you to get your crying to stop. We kicked it old school, and it felt good. After you calmed down, I put you back in bed and ... the crying, wailing, and general unhappiness resumed. This time I shut the door and told Daddy he better go in after you. He did, and I could hear you asking for me from where I was pacing, sad-like, in the kitchen. I just didn't know what to do. He said you kept looking over his shoulder for me. SOB! That was a first, and I don't know what prompted it.
I'll remind you that no matter what, I'll love you. I don't care how many parents at Sunday school give me THAT look, or how many shirts you stain. I promise, I don't care. We're in this thing called life together. I've never had a two year old on the cusp of three who had a shitty Sunday. I am learning just as you are. I am grappling just as you are. I am trusting blindly just as you are. And when worse came to worse yesterday, we shared a gigantic piece of homemade pumpkin cake with cream cheese icing and suddenly, things were cherries and marshmallows again.
I have a Joan Collins quote on the fridge that says something like, "Never appear to be lost. If you are, head straight into the nearest bar." That's my mantra and since we're in this thing together, we might as well head into a bakery anytime we're lost, OK?