While my children have systematically been tearing apart my parents home, I’ve been going a little crazier than usual trying to make sure none of the plywood or plaster falls and hits my youngest toddler in the brain. I’ve failed miserably 4 out of 10 times. We can probably kiss our Harvard dreams goodbye at this point but he seems to still be healthy. Nothing wrong with being a dentist, yeah? Nice safe occupation. Not too intellectually challenging.
Ellie has, thankfully, both the athleticism and intelligence to scoot out of the way of falling items. Benji is still tottering around and yanking said items on top of his head because…baby.
I underestimated the amount of time I’d be chasing him up the stairs, down the stairs, off the TV, (ours is mounted on the wall), holding my hand above his head while he plays underneath the torture device of a coffee table complete with sharp edges and pointy metal legs.
Well what can you do? Wrap the kid in bubble wrap? The thought has crossed my mind. He fell the other day and scraped his head on the edge of the base board in the kitchen. I mean, how do I anticipate or prevent that?
My parents have a wonderful split level home. It’s so cozy and warm and homey.
And full of stairs.
There’s two sets of stairs bracketing the main set of stairs going all the way up to the third level. And the set of stairs going to the basement. We have it all blocked off with gates and boards and plywood craftily formed around the stair banisters.
Benji reminds me of the raptor in the Jurassic Park movie, steadily testing the perimeter defenses for weaknesses.
And he’s found them.
Dad, clearly underestimating both the determination and the mental agility not to mention the physical strength of my youngest merely taped a barrier across the bottom step of the right hand set of stairs leading to the middle level.
He ripped that apart in about 48 hours. Dad had to drill it back into place.
The top barrier across the left hand set of stairs leading to the middle level remained intact for an impressive 7 days. This morning he found the edge and pushed it clear.
I am amazed and horrified and when I get to bedtime and he’s still more or less whole I breathe a sigh of relief and collapse onto the couch, exhausted completely.
And then, teething. So he’s up at midnight and then 230am for three hours. I climb back into bed at 5am and wonder how I’m going to get through the next 24 hours.
Poor Ellie. I don’t see her for hours at a time. I’m assuming Nana is feeding her occasionally. And there’s chocolate balls around so, she won’t totally starve.
This morning instead of going to morning service with mom I stayed home so Benji could have his morning nap, because you know, he’s been up all night, kid is tired.
And did I rest? Of course not. I piled up some cherry balls (Ellie has eaten all the chocolate balls at this point) and lots of good hot tea and pulled up a movie on Netflix. I got about a 1/3 of a way through ‘Logan’ when Ellie came crying to the front door. I’d forgotten her outside! (Ha, ha).
No, she had gone to church with Nana but they got about three songs in before she wanted to come back home.
So, here I am, drinking coffee as strong as they legally allow in Canada and attempting in fits and starts to finish this blog entry and then like a computer left outside on a day like today, I am going to freeze over and crash in on myself.
But, like my wise little Ellie says, "Mommy, sometimes you have to get through the sad before you can get to the happy." And, it isn’t even really sad. It’s just..tired. I just have to get through the tired before I can get to the rest.
So, from my heart to yours, I wish you all the rest and rejuvenation you can absorb. And me, too...