It was a manic Monday

Is there something in the water? Was the moon in a strange orbit? Because yesterday was tough. TUFF. Maybe it was the post-vacation madness. Maybe it was teething. Maybe it was the cold. Or maybe it was just another manic Monday.

Some of my friends on the interwebs mentioned that yesterday was tough for them too (solidarity, sisters) so I am convinced it was not just our home that was crazy sauce yesterday. But oh dearie, it was a hair-pulling, tantrum-throwing, lots-of-sighing, praying kind of day around here.

Let's start at the very beginning (a very good place to start, okay I'll stop).

We started the day with at least twelve tantrums. She had to eat breakfast in my lap. I had to be holding her, or death to me. But if I held her incorrectly, it was also no bueno. She dropped to the floor and cried/whined every other minute and I found myself wondering if 8am was too early for wine.

But I was able to distract her with various things: Daniel Tiger, painting, bubbles, singing, dancing, PLEADING, etc. 

This brief moment of calm was when something particularly interesting was on Daniel Tiger (thank you PBS for saving my brain cells).

She then promptly moved on to doing exactly what she shouldn't be doing - playing with the Christmas ornaments on the tree. If I said, "no thank you Emma" she would drop the the floor to tantrum it out, then promptly get back up to yank on the baubles some more.

Enter me, just throwing in the towel for the day. I called it, death to the house rules at 9:37 am on Monday the 30th. 

Not one care was given on this day. NOPE. 

After tantrum number ONE MILLION, I moved on to trying to entertain her with her mountains of toys. Please God, just stop tantruming! I piled her stuffed animals on top of her and she somehow managed to laugh and tantrum at the same time. She would giggle and then revert to "crying" just to make sure I knew who was boss.

How does she do it? Laugh - cry - laugh - whine - laugh - REPEAT UNTIL MOTHER IS DEAD.

Angry laughing? Is that even a thing?

When she had finally had enough of all the fun, she insisted on being held. So in the sling she went. This worked as long as I was swaying at the exact tempo and velocity to her liking. I said my fifth prayer/plea to our Lord to send peace and calm our way. I wondered if 10:27am was too early for red.

Is that not the most "mom hair" you ever saw in your entire life? YUCK. 

At another point (I had lost track of the number of whiney/cry fits she had at this point) she had to be put down, LIKE NOW OR ELSE. She then proceeded to tantrum cry while crawling around the kitchen to sob in the corner by the fridge. That was an especially weird moment of the day. 

Alrighty then.

I then had the idea to do something creative so I taped some paper to the bathtub wall, slapped some finger paints up, threw in the paint brushes, and tossed the tot in with just a diaper. We listened to some Christmas music and I enjoyed a moment of peace while she was happy.

She kept handing me a brush so I could join her. She was pretty focused on this project for a while but when she tried to crawl out covered in paint, I had to turn the bath on. Messes and me do not mix. NOPE. 

At some point it was paper optional.

After a quick bath and another tantrum or two, we moved on to lunch. She ate hers well enough but when I went to eat mine, she just had to be sitting on my lap but also facing the TV to watch some more Daniel then at some point fell asleep. I suppose all those tantrums were tiring. I moved her to our bed (remember, no rules) and laid down next to her and blogged from bed. 

Unfortunately her nap was much shorter than we both would have liked (WAHHHHH) and after tantrum number ONE BILLION I decided that some fresh air would help so off on a walk we went. She usually does well when we take walks so we bundled up and enjoyed the crisp autumn air. We headed to Starbucks first then just walked around our neighborhood. 

She collected various leaves (well, commanded me to pick them up, obviously) and at some point she took off her shoes and threw them, so there's that.

We made it back home and started on dinner prep, she of course needed to be glued to me so I put her to work. She sat on the counter top near the sink and helped me wash all the veggies, then she sat on the counter near the cutting board and handed me each potato and carrot one by one to chop. I added the olive oil and spices and she helped me stir. I had to put her down when I dressed the raw chicken so of course, tantrum number ONE ZILLION happened.

When Paul finally got home, I could relax a little bit because more hands are always better. After dinner we gave her another bath because bath time is always helpful for her mood.

Bubble baths make the world go 'round. Am I right?

We ended the CRAZY day with some books and milk by the tree. I was more exhausted emotionally than anything, but she just needed me. What can you do? BIG FAT NOTHING.

I am happy to be with her right now, things are often tough, but I am grateful for this time. (Even when I want to rip my hair out.) I will likely be working soon, so I shall soak in as much crazy as I can. Follow all the craziness over on SNAPCHAT (@substance_soul). 

Yesterday was a manic Monday. But it was ours. 

Around here

A tot with interrupted naps followed by interrupted sleep followed by more interrupted naps. When will this refusal to sleep end?! A tired mother wants to know.

Reveling in family time on these crisp autumn days and pulling the scarves and hats out of storage.

Underestimating the learning curve of an 18-month old who manages to lock me out of the house by turning the dead bolt. *Click* *Gulp*

Looking forward to time with family during the Thanksgiving holiday and remembering that family is what I am most thankful for these days.

The smiles that a tot and her dad exchange when he comes through the front door at the end of the day which light up my whole life. 

Target with a tot

Contemplating her next move. 

Get on with your bad self. 

Today Emma and I went to Target for a few things (HAHAHA, we all knew it wouldn’t be just a few things, who am I kidding?). Sometimes she sits contentedly in the cart, safely buckled up, playing with an item we will purchase. But most of the time, she is trying to stand up while the cart is moving, attempting to jump for it and run. Today was one of those days. Because, of course, she has to get out NOW, and she has to walk NOW, and must pull everything off of the shelves NOW, and well, you know the drill. Today I was mulling over the zillion toilet cleansing options with my back turned to the tot (rookie mistake) and I turn around to this scene.

Carry on little Einstein. 

It's 2 am

It's 2 am. 
And it's a battle field. 
It's a battle of wills. 
It's a test of patience. 
It's a delicate dance.
A bargain, a plea.
It's tired eyes and hoarse voices.
Shushing and singing and patting and coaxing. 
It's 2 am. 
Another tuck of the blanket and fluff of the pillow. 
It's staring up at the twinkling stars on the ceiling from the night light.
It's comforting, it's bargaining, it's hair pulling. 
"Just go to sleep little one, oh dear God go to sleep."
"Wa-wa, book, beh, mama, mama, mama..." 
It's 2 am. 
It's cuddles and cries. 
It's Netflix and sighs. 
"Get back in bed now!"
"Please lay down your head!"
It's laying on floors or foots of beds.
It's wondering if I'll ever sleep again. 
It's thinking about just giving in.
It's wanting to stay strong. 
Eye rubbing, tossing and turning, and praying for sleep.
It's 2 am.
Most people are sleeping.
She's finally letting her eyes close with soft, steady breathing. 
I wait for more fighting but still hoping she's settled. 
Such is the story in the dead of night.
Where mommies and daddies fight the good fight.

Emma at 18 months

Emma turned 18 months this week. Pause for dramatic effect.

Gone are the days of tiny baby squirms, toothless grins, and marathon cuddle sessions. We have a toddler on our hands folks - a full-blown, mind of her own, little lady with likes, dislikes, and a personality which seems extra large for her tiny person. These days the stand-by nicknames are Ems, little lady, big girl, pumpkin, and little chicka. Although, she's just Emma to me most days. She is an avid climber and can usually be found scaling every piece of furniture in our house. She is not one to mosey slowly, but runs to every destination so that the echoing pitter patter of her little feet can be heard from every room. She loves to play pretend by feeding and rocking her baby dolls, wrapping them in blankets, and shh-ing them to sleep. She also loves to "cook" and "eat" and always offers to share whatever is on her spoon. Fruit is her favorite food followed closely by anything in the carb family. When she is done eating, she lets us know by throwing her utensil and pushing her plate away (we never know when it's coming).

During her 18-month check up today, we found out she checks in at 25 lbs and 32.75 inches, hanging out around the 80th percentile in height and weight. Her fine and gross motor skills are exceptional. 10 teeth are sitting comfortably in her mouth and she demands to have her teeth brushed at least twice per day. She has fine, wavy hair which is easily tangled and never tame. She comfortably holds her crayons and markers and always wants to create a masterpiece for us. Her legs are strong and she already exhibits great rhythm (whew). She dances nearly every day and prefers to hold our hands so we can dance together. Quiet time is for books and songs and she requires Goodnight Moon and Five Little Monkeys before sleeping every night. She can be counted on for one long nap every day and a solid 10-11 hours of sleep each night. Her favorite comfort item is a brown stuffed bear followed by a pink stuffed bunny. She does not suck her thumb or a pacifier and is completely off the bottle. 

She is special. She is affectionate and sweet, with a laugh that lifts my entire soul. She is independent but still looks around to make sure our smiling faces are still somewhere nearby. She is saying more words and always manages to let us know what she is thinking. Just these past few weeks has she been saying mama in the clearest and most precious way. She always says it at least three times in a row and wants to be with me when she is tired or sad. Her daddy, however is her favorite play thing. They wrestle, run, play ball, and have the best back-and-forth laughing contests known to man.

18 months old. One and a half years. She has changed our lives. Parenthood is the sweetest gift. I never knew love could be so powerful and strong.

This is Emma and she is wonderful.