Oh, and I know you're all like "where have you been?" and the answer is that my dad had some pretty serious medical stuff happen this week. 99.8% of my free time has been spent travelling back and forth to the hospital. The other 0.2% was doing the bare minimum amount of laundry necessary (by local law) to clothe my family.
And, it's been one of those weeks where everything is breaking. The computer went again (I'm on another loaner...I mean, really...when am I just going to hop into this decade and buy a new one?!?), the air conditioner is blowing hot air, the car is making squeaky noises, and I suppose we could lump my dad in there for good measure, too.
It's sort of like when you read your horoscope and it says that the moon is in Pluto and that you shouldn't try to do anything major until next moon. I never know what that means. I still think Pluto is a planet. . .is that why all of my stuff is breaking? Anyway . . .it's been a week from. . . well. . . Pluto.
Anyway, right. My day.
So I tell this girl that I work with (and hope doesn't read my blog) that I'll help her out today by babysitting her 3 year old daughter. Easy enough. I figured Cole would really like having a buddy and how tough can it be, really? Side note: I always, always, always get myself into trouble when the answer is, how tough can it be, really? It's always that tough. Usually tougher.
This kid talks. I mean, talks. All. the. time. What's this? What's that? Why are you doing that? Can I help? Can you play with me? Can I have a milk? You took too long to get me milk, I want water. . . or juice. . .or pizza. . . Can I come with you? Why did you do that? What's this (again)?
And here's the thing. . .this kid was so high maintenance that I never spent more than 5 minutes with Cole all day. And Tilley? That poor girl only was given the basic needs of survival from her mother because this girl required so much attention. I figured she'd eventually run out of steam 6 hours into our day. . .no such luck. She slept for about 40 minutes. I have never appreciated 40 minutes more than I did today.
I am tired. I have been severely verbally bruised and beaten by a 3 year old. And it's only a bit after noon. When her mother asked me to pick her up from work, I jumped. I very willingly and quite happily woke up my sleeping babies from their naps (and yeah. . .if you've known me for more than 5 minutes, you understand that waking babies up from naps is practically a cardinal sin) ...just to remove this sweet house guest from our home.
Of course I'll drive you home to another town. No problem at all.
Stop by your boyfriend's place of work to get the house key you've forgotten? Sure!
Get same boyfriend a coffee on the way? Hardly trouble.
If it means that this child will stop talking. Anything if it makes this child. . . stop. . . talking.
We left in such a hurry (judge me later) that I didn't pack anything for Till. I packed Cole a quick snack and some milk. Just basic rations because I figured we'd be there and back in no time at all. And, with any luck, both kids might just go back to sleep. But we weren't more than 5 minutes from home when Tilley started crying. . .
. . .and crying. And CRYING. . .AND CRYING.
From the backseat I hear, "Why is she crying? Do you think she needs any cheeseballs? I don't have any cheeseballs. Erika, what are cheeseballs made of? I wonder if babies eat cheeseballs. Maybe just cheese. What kind of cheese do you like? Do you have any cheese?"
And I think for a second what would happen if I parked the van near the bus stop and hopped a bus going anywhere else but this van. But of course, that's silly. . .because the 3 year old would have asked me where I was going, and then she would have followed me. . .asking. . .questions. . .
Anyway, here's the point. We drive like 400 million minutes to their house (in reality, about 25) and Till screams the entire way and this sweet little thing never, ever stopped talking. My darling Cole completely tuned out; his eyes were glassy and he stared out the window. Not even my classic game of "what sound does this animal make?" made him come back to planet crazy-van.
I let the van come to a slow roll as I toss their things out in front of their house. And we drive away. And I let out the biggest sigh of my life. . .
And Cole says, "Mum?"
"Yeah honey. . ."
"Ohhh shit, mum."
His comic relief (which I of course didn't show him!) was in perfect timing, per usual. Side note: Watch my mouth - seriously. It's time!
Tilley stopped crying and Cole piped right back up and talked about Thomas Trains the rest of the way. I know, in dark places of my mind that I'm not willing to visit just yet, that my children will also be this talkative someday. But, for the love of all that is holy. . .I just need to live in my ignorant world of 2 year old mumble-jumble for as long as I possibly can.
Here's the tiny tot this week eating some cereal for the first time...
1 comment:
laughing out loud, loudly
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