Toddler Request...and Repeat...

No one prepared me for this new phase in my son's development.  Maybe it's in one of those "stages" books I have that now lies with a thin layer of dust settled across the paperback cover.  Maybe my friend's kids went through it (or they will soon) but no one brought it up to me in conversation before it slapped me in the face.  My son was watching his DVD of Disney's CARS (which, thank goodness, was the first time in quite a while after an obsessive initial run): his copy that is so badly scratched that it hiccups every 5 minutes.  Now, it sticks and refuses to recover:

him: "I want the tractor."
me (with the baby hanging off my left breast, her feet kicking the air scrambling for a better latch): "I know,  just a minute, let me try to fix it."
him: "I want the tractor."
me (the baby is now dangling between breast and one arm and starting to scream out of frustration): "I know, it's just not working right now, I need to fix it."

him: "I want the tractor."

me (silently cursing the remote...as it slips through the fingers of my right hand and crashes to the floor as my left hand dandles the flailing, crying baby): "I KNOW, it's not working right now..."

him: "I want the tractor."

me: "Do you want to drive me CRAZY?!"

him: "no."

me: "Listen, when you say something and someone answers you, that means they heard what you said and you do not need to repeat it, okay?!"

him: "I want the tractor."

me: "OH HOLY !@#$%^&*!  What did I just say?"

him: "I want the tractor."

me: "Stop it."

him: "I want the tractor."

me: "Do not say that again."

him: "I want the tractor."

me (walking away because if I stay in the same room for one more second I'm going to burst into flames), muttering to myself: "It's like talking to a psychotic!"

him: "I want the tractor."

When kids regress...

I thought I was past the point of bouncing her in the sling, dancing like I have to pee.  I thought I was past the point of not being able to console her or know what's wrong; when she's dry, fed, and rested all should be well.  Alas, this has not been the case with my five month old as of late.  Seemingly random bursts of "high needs" attention have abounded lately, reminding me of the stress of holding her at 2 weeks with her screaming for no reason I could decipher.

This would all be minor enough if my son hadn't decided to "regress" with her.  Suddenly whining has become his torture of choice for my ears (and patience).  There's something about that "put-on" cry that throws a switch in my brain and steals away my compassion for little tears.  My son's short staccato bursts of forced hysterics--timed perfectly with my daughter's unexplained screaming ringing in my ears--has made for several days of "psycho mommy" moments, moments where I hiss, "STOP IT, just STOP IT".

The other night my daughter screamed every ten minutes or so, every time I thought I had willed her to fall asleep for the night.  And every time I coaxed her back to sleep, and just as I was laying her down again in silence, my son would scream from his room-not-ten-feet-away, "IMAAA, AAAHHH, WAAAH, COME HERE!!!!" reminding me that, he too, was not yet asleep even though I had shut the light over thirty minutes earlier.  (side note: his door cannot shut all the way, it sticks...)

Back and forth I went between the two rooms, one screaming, then the other screaming, until I threw all in and joined the fray, shutting my son's door as best I could to block out his noise from the baby (only to make him more hysterical because he hates his door shut).  My husband came home and, as I was nursing the baby in our room, I heard him go to our son.  "No screamin", my two and half year old said to my husband.  I started to cry.  My husband said, "Ima was screaming?"  "No," he answered.  "Natan screamin".  "Oh," my husband replied, "Well, that's right, no screaming.  Now lie down and go to sleep".  Silence indicated he complied.  I managed to put the baby down without incident.  I went into my son's room and sat down next to him at the edge of his bed.  "When I'm putting the baby to sleep", I explained, "I need you to be quiet, okay?"  He nodded.  "I need you to be quiet so I can come to you more quickly, okay?"  He nodded.  "Every time you scream you wake the baby up and I can't come to you fast, okay?"  He nodded.  "You sit in chair?" he asked.  "Sure", I said, feeling my shoulders relax as I realized I hadn't completely damaged my child.  I turned to rise and head toward the rocking chair near his bed...and the baby woke up screaming.

When toddlers get tired...

I'm not sure why it took me so long to realize, or why, once realized, I find it so hard to remember, that when toddlers get tired they don't simply rub their eyes and curl up like kittens to go to sleep...at least not mine.  Their little bodies get revved up and falsely portray an overabundance of energy.  Or, in the case of my two-and-a-half year old son, he turns into a crazed Jack-in-the-box, but wound up and released from his tin 4x4(x4) box.  I have to remind myself: he's TIRED, when he starts running laps around the house like someone strapped a stick of dynamite to his butt.  He's TIRED, when he starts throwing the newly folded laundry into the air and laughing maniacally at his own antics.  He's TIRED, when he starts poking his baby sister in the face and jumping just out of reach every time I try to stop him.  He's TIRED, when he throws himself on the playground floor when it's time to leave instead of walking angelically over to the car...or stroller.  He's TIRED, when he flails his arms in a "you-can't-catch-me" kind of way as I try to put on his coat to leave a friend's house.  He's TIRED, when he starts spitting his lunch at the ceiling.  He's TIRED, when the minor bump against the table sends him wailing on the floor.  He's TIRED, when he arches his back and refuses to sit in his carseat after a run of errands.  He's TIRED, when he starts kicking and screaming during a routine diaper change.  He's TIRED, when he cries from his bed for a snack...or milk...or water...or chicken and rice at 9 o'clock at night after eating three solidly round meals.  He's tired...and as long as I remember that, I can keep myself from thinking my child has suddenly and surprisingly turned into a demon.

When mom gets sick...

It was late in the afternoon after a very long day (are they ever NOT long days?), when suddenly I felt it hit me...fever and chills and overwhelming nausea.  I called my husband.  He didn't answer.  I call again.  He doesn't answer.  The baby is slung across me in her sling, crying because she can't fall asleep.  I'm gonna be sick I'm gonna be sick, I can't believe this, WHY ISN'T HE ANSWERING HIS PHONE?  She's hysterical, and now my son wants Big Bird, no Barney, no juice, no milk...as he starts climbing up the sofa back to reach my bookshelves...

I call my husband again.  He answers.  I ask him to come home as soon as he can, I'm sick suddenly and need his help.  "Are you home?" he asks.  Are you kidding me?  It's 4pm, it's raining outside, you have our only working car, and you want to know am I home?!!  Yessss, I hiss into the phone, just please get here.

It took him 45 minutes to walk through the door, but as soon as he did I took the baby off me and ran for the bathroom.  I hate getting sick.  I was sick my entire last pregnancy.  This took me right back there.  It wasn't pretty.

I stumble out of the bathroom, feeling totally weak and drained and shivering from fever.  My husband is holding the crying baby.  "Why don't you get him ready for bed", he motions to our two year old.  I take the baby: "Uhh, here's a thought," my face says, while my mouth says: "Why don't YOU get him ready for bed".  I stumble to my bed with the baby and let her nurse until we both fall asleep, and I long for the days when being sick meant calling into an automated system and knowing that my substitute folders were soon to be placed on my desk...for someone else to use.