Oh. My. God.
Naptime at last, and not a minute too soon. Sure, I'm punishing my future self by putting little E down for an early one. But present-me needs a breather.
It's 8 thousand degrees out, no AC on the first floor, and my little toddler won't/can't/doesn't sit still, ever. And while it's fun to watch his antics, chasing him up and down stairs, redirecting him off the bay windowsills and bookshelves, and gently reminding him that tails are not for pulling has worn thin for the morning.
Too bad we're already on nap #2, and it's only 12:15. Holy shit.
It's times like these I wonder if I'll ever regain my sanity. I knew all I was getting into when we had a baby. The infant thing--constant nursing, lack of sleep, crying (his and mine), worry and wonder and diapers galore--I had that down pat. No one ever told me about what happens next. How this helpless little creature you lovingly held and cooed at will turn into a screaming, climbing, running, screaming, digging, scooting, exploring, screaming little guy.
Did I mention that he screams?
I wonder daily if this is "normal" toddler behavior. I can't exactly call the pediatrician and discuss the 9 million ways my little guy has gotten into, onto and under the furniture and drawers. Everyone says, "oh yes, this is what they do."
And then, whenever I ask a question, I get the invariable, "Just wait! Just wait until you have two!!!" Um, yes, we're waiting, and it's filling me with dread.
Because we soon WILL have two, and every night I go to bed wondering, "what the hell is coming next?"
I can only hope my anticipation of the Deuce's arrival is making me more anxious than I really need to be. But I can't help but worry I won't be able to do it.
Anyway, it's naptime, and probably won't be for long. It's too hot to eat or think or even breathe, but I am going to chill and try to cut the worrying for now.