This morning was challenging. The Toddler didn’t want to play with toys or even with me. He wouldn’t eat and didn’t want to drink. He just wanted to cling to me. He’s not sick, just clingy. I was not in a touchy-feely mood and wanted my space. It stinks being touched-out at 9:00 in the morning.
He didn’t have to cling if I was up and moving, so I started on the 12+ loads of laundry I should get done this weekend. It’s a nice enough day here - sunny, breezy, big puffy clouds teasing us with more rain. I decided I’d take my chances and I’m using the clothesline today. There is something very satisfying about looking out the kitchen window at laundry hanging on the line. It’s peaceful. And it smells so good when I go out to hang the next load.
While I was hanging the first two loads, The Toddler was outside with me. I had to herd him to the backyard a couple times, because he desperately wanted to play with the car parked in front of our house. Sigh. He’d brought a baseball out from the garage and I threw it for him to “fetch” a few times. That game didn’t last long, though, and he was at the neighbor’s gate, trying to get in to play on their trampoline. I hollered for him to come back and to stay out of their yard. He stood still, which was fine, but then I saw him inching his way toward the busy street at the back of our lot. I called to him and he giggled and ran right past the pine trees and toward the street. Cars were whizzing by and I knew none of them could see him for the trees. I called again and started running and heard him giggling madly as he danced closer to traffic. He was one step away from hopping off the curb when I swept him up. Of course, he thought Mommy running and screaming through the backyard was hilarious, and being scooped up like that was the prize. I fell on my knees, clutching him and petting him while hissing and crying in his ear.
Why is it that when my kids do things like this, I feel like they’re doing it to me? Like it’s some kind of attack or test? I hate that it feels that way.
We came inside and he went down for a nap. Because he needed one and because I needed him to have one. He was tired, too, and didn’t fight laying down. My older kids had finished their list of chores for the morning (honestly - WHAT do they do to this place when I’m away? GAH!) and were playing KISSOPOLY in the living room. Without fighting.
We just finished assembling mini pizzas made with english muffins. They loved putting them together. I’m worried my eldest put too many dried spices on his and will think they’re icky.
