caucus race: do join us!

Forward, backward, inward, outward
Come and join the chase!
something something something
something something caucus-race.

At least that's how I remember Disney's version of it. And I remember it that way on an almost daily basis. Not because Little Guy has a crush on that blonde bimbo who just couldn't keep her hands off of other peoples stuff, but because that's the shape of [insert day of the week here] right now. Upside-turvy. Topsy down. Spiraling madly out of control down the effing rabbit hole.

I like schedules. I like rules. I like patterns and predictability. Not that I'm a slave to such nonsense. Doing something 30 minutes earlier or later than anticipated is perfectly acceptable in my book. I've even been known to *gasp* eat pasta for breakfast. Okay, so I'm not much of what they would refer to as a "free-spirit". Things have a place and they should be in them.

And then I had a child. A child who very much likes to get up at the butt-crack of dawn and may or may not want to nap 30 minutes later. A child who LOVES, LOVES, LOVES his [rattle/block/ball] one minute, then screams in terror when it is presented to him TWO SECONDS LATER. A child who grins and giggles at the funny face I was JUST making, then pointedly raises one eyebrow in derision when I tell Big Guy "Look, look! He loves this!"

Someone told me to go with my gut on this childrearing thing. Sage advice, for sure. It's not possible that any book can accurately detail the ins and outs of parenting my child. I spend 24/7 with him, so who could know him any better than I? And I truly believe that mothering is 98% instinct (the other 2% being driven by guilt). The problem arises when my stomach tells me that my screaming child is tired and needs a nap but it turns out that said screaming child really just wanted the toy on the other side of the blanket and once he got it was pleased as punch to play quite nicely for another 30 minutes (at which point the screaming did in fact signal that playtime was over).

Or how 'bout the time that he woke up from his morning nap after 15 minutes and my gut said, "Wait. See if he'll go back to sleep." Damned if he didn't get quiet after about 5 minutes. I celebrated my motherly-ness with a handful of chocolate. I went up to put his laundry away about 45 minutes later and tiptoed in so as not to disturb him. I couldn't resist peeking lovingly at my peacefully sleeping babe. Who looked back at me. FULLY. AWAKE. I swooped him up, apologizing for my neglect and sat down on the floor to play with him. He humored me for about 10 minutes and fell asleep.

I really thought I had it together the morning I decided not to change him out of his pjs until he had finished with his morning spit-up routine. A big burp (and several dribbles) later I felt confident that we were good to go. I dressed him. He smiled at me. And spit-up. Seems that my stomach has the right idea. Unfortunately, it has some timing issues. Must have some
butter in the works.

Which reminds me, if you run across Alice, let her know I'm looking for her. Stupid bitch ate all the cookies and I can't find a decent bottle of wine to calm my nerves. Anyone know where I can find the caterpillar?



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3 comments:

Amy Jo said...

I love that story! I have a feeling we'll never be truly in charge of these little beings!

Jacqueline said...

you know, I never liked that movie. I mean, it was ok. Not SUPER scary like Pinnochio. Weird, though. I should see it again. And Dumbo too. And Snow White. I don't have those memorized like I do the others. Have you ever noticed that the new Disney movies are kinda bad? Just an observation. g'night.

Susan said...

Little sister, you are soooooo random sometimes!!! Love you, though!