Little Monster

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It’s the one in the middle. That adorable little monster. That’s who this is about. The one in the diaper with the sweet little brown curls.

I have come to the conclusion that I will never get anything done for at least the next thee years. I am not being dramatic. I am being realistic. Dishes…screw ’em. Laundry…toss it out when it stinks and buy new clothes online. Cooking…Pizza Hut and any place that will deliver. I was room mom/holiday party planner for both my older children’s classes…I had to have someone come and put up my own Christmas tree, because I couldn’t do it. I’m officially about to become a hoarder, because I have no time to clean up or take out the trash. I wonder if I could collect disability? All of these things come down to one reason and one reason only…my TODDLER!

 Please bear in mind that I have yet to birth an “easy” child. All three of mine have been tough. My first two boys were seventeen months apart and were chronic ear infection babies and very active toddlers. Extremely active. Active enough that I had to have “special conferences” at 4 hour a week preschool which I enrolled them in to get socialized and let’s be honest, to have a few minutes to catch up on laundry. These two would have been easier to raise in the woods of Alaska with no heat or electricity than this third one I had four years later. I think he was born with a turbo button that I have not yet figured how to change the settings on.

 Don’t get me wrong. He is so cute that its sickening. He is trying to potty-train at twenty months and is extremely smart, cuddly, and beautiful. He is my joy and I love him so much that I sometimes cry while watching him sleep because the love I have for this boy is overwhelming. Sometimes, I cry tears of joy when he’s asleep just because I’m so happy that he’s finally fucking asleep. Without him, I would be incomplete. He is my force, my soft spot, my beautiful child. He’s also going to turn me into a raging alcoholic.

 Hell bent on making it to the emergency room, and usually armed with a sucker punch, he takes up every waking and non-waking moment of my day. How can something so precious be so destructive? And anyone who wants to give me the “parenting style” bullshit can take a walk. He was born this way. The minute I looked into his eyes, I knew he was Rowdy. That’s his name. Yes, that’s on his birth certificate. I call ’em like I see ’em.

 So if you see me on the street or in a store and I am naked, drunk, and unshowered, (which could be an interesting sight) please don’t judge. There is a reason for it, and I will have a driver…I’m going to give up driving too. Just no time to renew my license. I’m going to continue to love him and enjoy every moment of his childhood, despite the stress and the fact that he needs a straightjacket.

 I must go now as I am pretending to be upstairs “using the restroom”…I may give that up too and just get a catheter.

 Have a great weekend everyone! I will too, with my little maniacs, and my husband that actually thinks I would waste my time “using the restroom”…sucker!

 ~Kristen

 

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