Thursday, June 9, 2011

Hardcore Henry

Quick update on me: I'm still feeling iffy, but I haven't yakked today. I just attempted a grilled cheese sandwich, and I'm a little bit afraid that it was a mistake. We'll find out, I guess.

And now, for the real rant.

If you have been reading my blog since the birth of my first child, Nora, in 2008, you've probably noticed that ever since Henry arrived, there's been a lot less photos and a lot less blogging. This happens to a lot of second-borns, but their parents' excuses tend to be something generic like, "We just got too busy with two to get the camera out all the time."

It's true. When you have two kids, you do get busier. You have more stuff in your hands and on your mind, and a camera (among other things) hits the back burner.

In Henry's case, however, not only are we busier, but we're basically just trying to make sure that this kid survives to his next birthday. This kid requires constant vigilance. He requires constant supervision (which, contrary to popular belief, is pretty much impossible at all points in time—especially when the kid actively evades it). I am on constant death-watch. He makes one, gigantic mess. I clean it up. Then, I've realized that he's made another one somewhere—only with more fury.

Some days are harder than others. There has only been, like, one easy day on record. That day, Henry had a temperature. The other day, Henry may have been so flipping hot (it was 97° outside), that he got worn out harder than usual (and, by golly, I do try to wear him out daily) and actually begged to take a nap. I'm still in shock from that one.

The most fascinating thing about this kid that I have come to discover, however, isn't that he's so, um, high-maintenance. It's the fact that he seems to know when I am not on my game, and the sucker kicks the level of difficulty up several notches. He never misses an opportunity.

For example: Today. I am not feeling well. I am nine months pregnant. All I want to do is lay down and sleep. What has Henry done today? Allow me to list it out for you:

  • I have pulled him out of the bathroom sink basin TWICE (and, both times, I KNEW the bathroom was closed off from him). This is new. The first time, he was so incredibly saturated with water, that he dripped all over tarnation.
  • He turned my office up-side-down (toy explosion).
  • He's climbed on a desk in my office (that he knows he is not allowed to climb on), grabbed some plastic battens (that go in the blackout window shades in his bedroom—also not allowed to play with those), and stuck them into the fan that is on that same desk.
  • He handed me poo when I was cooking lunch. Poo. I think it was his. How he ended up with it in his hand is beyond me. Nobody ever tells you (prior to having children) that your kid will do creepy things like hand you phantom poo.
  • I had to unlock the downstairs bathroom to collect him for nap time (and he had run from me into the bathroom because he knew it was nap time). By the way, the hot water was running in the sink. Yeah.
  • He has smacked Nora an innumerable amount of times today.
  • He has rammed me in the stomach an innumerable amount of times today.
  • He climbed onto the dining room table and squirmed around (this is pretty typical, but it just burned me more today because I really shouldn't be lifting him).
  • He took his plate at lunch and just whacked the living daylights out of the table with it. I had to confiscate it even though he wasn't really done eating.
  • He threw, like, three, wooden, Melissa and Doug puzzles down the stairs (after I cleaned the up-side-down office, which was no small effort on my part).
  • He absolutely has to know what every single, mundane item in life is, and he has to know RIGHT NOW! If you don't answer him right away (and, heck, even if you do), you get, "MOMMY! MOMMY! What's saaat? MOMMY!"
  • He fought nap time in his usual champ-like style.
  • He pretty much sucked all the remaining life out of me that I had going this morning.

So, yep. I love the little bugger, but, dang. At what point does a mother call an exorcist? I know he's probably freaking out because we just woke him up last night and took him to the ER to listen to baby brother's heart beat, but . . . little dude! Cut it out!

(And, Henry, if you are reading this one day down the road, you should be saying a little prayer of thanks that you have lived to read this thing. I know I will.)

What did Nora do today, you ask? She sucked her thumb (with penguin, of course) and hung around near me all day. She did tell me she wasn't feeling well, and I'm still trying to figure out if that's real or not. It might be.

I'm going to go lay down. My back hurts.

No comments:

Post a Comment