It Gets Easier

So, I stopped writing. Not just for this blog. But all together. Truth be told, over the past few years I wrote five different blogs and two books. Most of which existed only on my desktop. But I enjoy writing. Its my favourite hobby and has been for at least 20 years. I stopped though. I stopped painting, drawing and sketching also. Max takes up most of my time, but even my little free time I have – I stopped.

I stopped a little over year ago after my first miscarriage. It’s been a year. Fuck. It’s also been 8 months since my second miscarriage. It’s been a year since I was that Melissa that I knew my whole life. I feel like normal me is never coming back and that stresses me out every day.

Everyone says it gets easier. They’re right. But not easy enough.  Not like how it used to be.

I’m defined by those two events. I used to be defined by who I felt I was and the awesome things I did, this sarcastic funny social planning super dork with annoying organizational skills who was always relaxed with an IDGAF attitude about everything – with not a care in the world. I mean, of course I had things to care about, but nothing that defined who I was or that I focused on all that much.

These two events though, they shape what defines me now. Because I can’t escape them, nor do I want to. They happened and they’re there, and they’ll always be there. Even on the best of days, they still happened.

I can’t say the M word. I keep calling it “that baby stuff that happened. ” I’m impressed with myself for mentioning it above in this post.

It’s a weird feeling to be so happy with your life, but with this underlying horribleness  there at random times. I love my project management job, I love my real estate job, I love that I’ve gotten to spend every day all day with max for almost 3 years, I love Brian, I love my house. I love my amazing friends. But there’s always that underlying stuff that creeps up every now and then that’s like “ya you’re life is amazing and I’m so glad you’re happy but don’t forget about what happened last year”. The voice moderate resembles Kanye West as I read this back. Which will now make it a little but more palatable moving forward.

I haven’t slept since the second one. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I have the same nightmare about it every single night. And I’m exhausted.

Everyone says it gets easier. It does. But it’s not easy enough.

It’s been a year. I need to get my shit together. I’m going to start writing again. I don’t know if it’ll be the same. I’m pushing myself to write again. I don’t want to write. I’m forcing myself do it. I’ve been sick all day week (I wrote this a week ago and keep revisiting it because i’m too scared to post it.) thinking about having to post this, to finish writing it, to share it, to do anything to it. I don’t want to do it. I’m not brave enough. I don’t want people to know. My heart rate is 134bpm right now as I read this back, knowing that I have to post it soon. I’m sweating and I want to throw up.

I sound depressed. I’m not. Life is great and I’m happy all he time, I’m probably annoyingly happy. I just hate talking or thinking about this.

I carry this secret around. I’m the most open person on the planet (as proven by an old blog post open where I explain the horrifying grotesque details of childbirth.) But this… This I’ve kept a secret from everyone except a few close friends.

And that secret made me stop writing. I can’t write a blog post but not write about those events, because they’re there whether I write about them or not. So I don’t write. Because I don’t want to write about them. I don’t know why I didn’t want to. I did want to. I just also didn’t want to. I don’t want people to know. Why don’t I want people to know?  I don’t know. I don’t want the sympathy, I don’t want people to think about it when they think about me, I’m ashamed about it, it’s not anyone’s business, and I can think of a hundred more reasons.  I don’t know… I just don’t like the thought of people knowing about it.

No one talks about it. Until it happens. Then you find out it’s happened to the majority of people you know. And you feel so much better knowing that other people know what you’re going thought and that they’re fine so you’ll be fine.

And I hate that I added myself to the list of people that don’t talk about it. Because if everyone talked about it, it would be less shit. It would still be shit but a fraction of a tiny percent less. So I don’t know why I didn’t talk about it. I’m begrudgingly writing this. It’s been a year and I need to get my shit together.

They say it gets easier. And it does. I don’t cry about it anymore. That’s a lie I’m crying right now and every now and then. But typically I don’t anymore. I’m talking to friends again. I can see pregnant people again and not care. Ultrasound photos still kill me. New babies I can handle though, it’s weird.

It gets easier. It’s never the same as it was, but it gets easier. If you’re going though it, as corny as it is… you aren’t alone. And it does help to hear that.  And don’t stay silent. And it will get easier. And I KNOW you don’t want to hear that because you don’t want it to get easier because it’s horrible and unimaginable and why and how should it get easier. But in a few months you’ll remember thinking about me telling you it’ll get easier and you’ll realize all of the sudden that it did get easier. And you’ll feel relief at the tiniest little weight being lifted off even if just for a moment realizing that it isn’t as bad now as it was when it happened.  And that’s what easier is. And every day a little bit more. And some days a little bit less. And it will  be one of the things that defines you. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s here now and it happened and we continue our lives and try to find normalcy in what is now the new normal. It does get easier. It’s not the same, but it’s easier.


The Worst Part Of Having Kids

There really is a bad part… I mean, there are probably several really shitty parts to having a kid I suppose. LIke the lack of sleep forever and ever, the constant worrying, the not ever having money again…

Max is going through the what I like to lovingly call the “asshole” phase of his life.  He has an attitude temper thing and just really needs to chill out. Like really. He LOVES to defy every single thing I say. Sometimes he’ll stand there doing the opposite of what I say while staring at me just to see my reaction. I ignore him and he’ll stop sometimes. He also likes to run away… he ran on the street the other day hysterically laughing because I was screaming at him not to. I’m a day away from becoming a leash parent.

He loves to ignore me or pretend he doesn’t hear me or do things he shouldn’t do that are amazingly dangerous, like jump on the edge of the couch, or try and open the hot oven, or play with knives*. He also loves to get super angry and throw shit at me. I spend a good part of my day yelling at him or putting him in time outs, which he thinks is hilarious. Me: “Max, stop that or you’re gonna get a time out! Do you want a time out?!?” Max: “LOL11!!1!l!!1!! HAHAH YES!!”. Every. Single. Time.

I don’t want to yell at him, it’s the worst… I don’t want to be mad at him, but really, he’s being unreasonable. He’s 2, so I don’t’ ever expect him to be reasonable, but 14 hours a day of someone just giving you shit all day, you get annoyed and angry and yell-ey. Then there are the days when he’s perfect and awesome and cuddly and cozy and wonderful, and you forgot about the shit days. No joke, he was on such a rampage last week that I contacted three daycares and got two job interviews, I was so done.

Anyway, none of that is the worst part of having kids. Because they’re kids and that’s what they do and you deal with it, and it’s ridiculous but whatever. Half the tantrums are hilarious, and I have to hide myself from laughing at him.  But, the real worst part is this…

When they go to sleep, and then you spend the next 8 hours feeling guilty and watching them sleep soundly and innocently and super cute, and you feel like THE WORST PERSON ever for just yelling and reprimanding them for what felt like all day. Like you really feel horrible, because you realize that they’re so little and young and don’t know any better, yet you were the jerk being horrible to them all day. When in reality it’s probably not true, but they’re so good and sleepy and quiet and you forget how asshole-y they were all day.

And you promise yourself the next day you aren’t going to get mad at them, or yell at them or anything because they’re too perfect and cute and everything you’ve always wanted. But then the second he wakes up, he comes downstairs and says “mommy make me bacon and put cartoons on and don’t change my diaper.” and you say “You aren’t actually my boss (yes he is), and also say please, and also yes I am changing your gross diaper” and he replies with “NO, mommy make bacon right now!!” and you say “relax, I’ll make breakfast in a minute, I have to change your diaper first” and he says “NO NOW!!” then starts screaming and kicking you and throwing shit on the floor and you’re like “DUDE RELAX, we don’t throw things and we don’t kick people!!!!!”…and now it’s been 45 seconds and you’ve already yelled at him once today.


*He doesn’t actually play with knives, have access to knives, or anything of the like

Towel blogger

How much do you love this stock photo?!?!? THE TABLET ISN'T EVEN ON, first of all!!

How much do you love this stock photo?!?!? THE TABLET ISN’T EVEN ON, first of all!!

I’m writing this naked. Well I have a towel on, but still. Max sleeps in our room now #DontGetRidOfYourCrib. My clothes are in our room, so I have to decide should I wake him up by getting my clothes, or blog in a towel? The latter obviously.

Other things I sacrifice with a crazy toddler:

1. I can’t pee alone anymore. And it’s not like he comes in there and just hangs out… he wants to see what’s going on and give me an ongoing narrative “mommy peeing” “mommy toilet paper” etc… It’s like a Wes Anderson movie. And he doesn’t understand the concept of personal space yet, so you can imagine the weirdness. The other day I was peeing and he brought his train in and went “choo choo” all the way up my leg as I was peeing. Do you know how hard it is to pee like that??

2. No more showering alone. He wants to come in the shower and opens the door and closes the door, and walks in there with his socks on, and tries to put his toys in there while I’m showering. Then cries because he wants to leave the room but locked himself in. Also he stares at me awkwardly, I’m embarrassed every time.

3. I haven’t slept in weeks and I have bruises everywhere. He sleeps in our bed, but he doesn’t like me sleeping in our bed. So as soon as he’s in the bed, he kicks me out. But legit kicks me. Kicks me in the lungs, the back, the neck, the face, all night until I leave.

4. He’s fucking bossy. He has the vocabulary of a 15 year old, and the attitude to go with it. I’m not allowed to sit on the couch anymore apparently because he loses his shit and gets super mad at me. I’m also not allowed to lie down because he loses his shit even harder and screams at me “MOMMY GET UP!” then slaps me and pushes me until I’m up.

5. No more eating. He won’t eat, so I don’t get to eat. Because after arguing with him for an hour to eat his food, he finally caves only if I let him eat my food on my lap from my plate.

Fact: 2 year olds are THE BEST. All of his attitude is hilarious to me, like I literally laugh the whole entire day at his ridiculous nonsense. If this is the terrible 2’s, I’m thoroughly enjoying it.

On the flip side, yesterday out of nowhere he walks over to me and says “I love you mommy”!! So, he can slap me and kick me and watch me pee all he wants. It’s worth it.

Snow Tantrum

I was so excited to take Max to play in the snow today for the first time! I waited in my long underwear, pants, wool socks, sweater, hat on, everything, all bundled up all morning for him to wake up so we could go! I was so sweaty, it was disgusting. Anyway, he finally gets up at 9am. I planned to eat breakfast and get going around 10, come back for hot chocolate, a warm bath and then nap. So obviously once again, the opposite happened.

After the breakfast that he didn’t eat was finished (see: thrown in the garbage), I got him dressed. This took half an hour at least. We walk down stairs, I go to get his boots and all his winter stuff, I put his snow pants on, he’s crying “no snow pants!”, I kind of don’t care. I go find his boots, he’s crying “No boots!”, I also don’t care. I go to find his jacket, I look behind me and he falls DOWN THE STAIRS. He was trying to reach something. He legit flipped over, fell down 3 stairs right onto his head. We ran upstairs, iced his head, kisses kisses kisses, and we’re all better to try again. I’m so so sweaty. Back downstairs, then the boot fiasco. He doesn’t like boots. Guess what? I don’t care. I put them on, he takes them off, I put them on he takes them off, I get angry at him, he cries and takes them off again. Finally they’re on, he’s crying at the door. Who am I doing this for?!? I’m doing it because winter is here and what the hell are we gonna do cooped up in my tiny tiny apartment all winter?? HE NEEDS TO PLAY OUTSIDE, I will lose my mind. I will lose it so bad, I might just go back to work. I’m also really doing it for him, because it’s snow and it’s so much fun for him!!! I’m so sweaty.

We go outside, he’s SCREAMING “NO SNOW”, like people are staring at me, it’s the worst. No word of a lie, 10 minutes of straight crying until he almost threw up. So we came inside. By the way, I’m so so sweaty. We took everything off again, he cried the whole time. I believe I was more angry at him during this time than I have ever been in his entire life. I feel like an asshole, I was a total dick to him when he came back in. I feel so bad! When he wakes up from his nap I’m going to give him the iPad and cookies and let him do whatever the wants all afternoon. I’ve never been mad at him before! It’s the worst! But really, I need him to like the snow, it’s so much fun! He’s just so stubborn, this is why he didn’t walk until he was like 18 months – just because he didn’t like it. What a dork. Plus I have serious plans to take him skiing in two months, so he kind of really needs to start liking this snow. And most importantly, I don’t wanna go back to work… and if he hates the snow, I’m going back to work for the winter.

Just Another Logan Story

How do you handle kids who are assholes?  Because I’m still at a loss.

We were at Yuppy Hipster Playville and Logan #13 was climbing something random and unsafe. First you should visualize Logan13… he’s 5 years old, very manicured blonde hair, and he’s wearing a $70.00 Hudson’s Bay lambswool cardigan to a heated indoor play centre where children climb, push, run, crawl, duck, sneeze, cough, spill, poop, barf, and everything in between. So needless to say for starters, he’s very sweaty. But he’s fancy, so whatever, maybe I’m jealous.

Max starts climbing the safe part of this play structure which is clearly for toddlers (why is it clearly for toddlers? Because anyone over 35 inches tall can’t fit up the ladder). But, Logan13 figured out how to get up that ladder in his fancy sweaty cardigan that I hope he ripped on the way up because why are you making your kid wear a fancy cardigan to a play place?! Don’t answer that, I know why.

Max is about to go down the slide at the top of the tower, and Logan13 sits behind him and yells “GO DOWN”. And Max looks and laughs because Max is a dork. So Max is about to go down the slide when LoganShitface13 KICKS HIM IN THE BACK! Someone’s 5 year old kid just kicked my year and a half year old kid in the back. Holy shit. A new emotion surfaces within my body that I didn’t know existed.

My first reaction was to look around for Logan13’s parents, but this child is kicking a toddler while wearing a Hudson’s Bay cardigan IN A PLAYCENTRE, I like to maybe imagine his parents couldn’t give any less fucks about what he does, so long as he’s pretty looking. And he was.  His parents aren’t anywhere around, what do I do!? Can i discipline someone else’s child?! Probably not. Most likely not. So very calmly I’m like “please don’t kick him” and little fucking asshole as opposed to being a kid and being all “ok sorry” like the way most kids talk to stranger adults, he says to me “WELL MAKE HIM GO DOWN THEN!”. It’s. Fucking. On.

I want to note that Max wasn’t sitting there holding up the slide for others. This all took place in the span of 15 seconds, maybe not even. Max was legit about to go right down the slide when that dick kicked him in the back.  So I say to Logan13, (and screw this I’m having an actual stupid conversation where I try to reason with a 5 year old)… “He’s going down, but no need to kick anyone”. WHAT DOES HE DO?? HE KICKS HIM AGAIN IN THE BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

So I obviously lost my shit. “You know, WE DON’T KICK PEOPLE!!!!!!!! WE DO NOT KICK PEOPLE!!!” I had hoped his parents would have heard me, but shockingly, still not to be found. SHOCKING.

How do you handle other people’s jerk kids?! There’s no rule book for this. I’m great at babysitting and watching people’s kids, but I’m really terrible at handling total random stranger’s asshole kids obviously. Most likely because I shouldn’t have to. Maybe just maybe I also yelled at him so I could see what type of parents put their kid in a lambs wool expensive cardigan to play in all day.

Big Boy Bed


So we put him in a big boy bed last night.  I don’t know if that’s what it’s really called, I guess it’s just called a bed. But I talk to a 22 month old all day, so my adult vocabulary is non existent. I’m afraid when I go back to work and have to ask an art director to save out some PSDs I’m going to talk to them like they’re 2; “hey little guy!! Wanna come help me with a special special little project?!? I’ll give you a cookie if you do a good job!!”. Which actually might be a good thing now that i think about it.

So it’s 9am and he’s still asleep. I want to attribute this to his comfiness in his bed, but I won’t. Because I just jinxed the shit out of it, and i know tomorrow he’s not even going to sleep in it.  I remember when he was 5 months old and we put him in a crib for the first time, I slept in a chair in his room the whole night, just in case. In case of what? No idea. And by “slept in a chair” I mean sat in a chair for 8 hours awake panicking.  I’m pleased with myself for not going in his room last night, although even though he’s almost 2 I still have mom panic in “why is he still sleeping? Is he breathing??” it’s been 13 hours of sleep now. SIDS isn’t possible anymore, I think?  Ok, just turned up the monitor to hear him breathing.  And this paragraph right here fully explains what it’s like to be in the brain of a SAHM who has nothing else to think about all day.   I have no doubt when he’s 8 years old, I will still be wanting to go in his room and make sure he’s ok in his real bed.  AND even more so when he’s 20 and has a girl over who I’m about to go kick out of the house. In fact, I’m going to keep that baby monitor in his room forever. Just in case.

I Got My Mind On My Money, Money On My Mind

As of next week, I will have been officially off of work for 2 years. That went by so fast, it’s insane. My whole long term plan was to use all my savings (which I budgeted would last me 2 years) then go back to work, since it would be easier to find Max daycare now that he’s older.  BUT NOW, now I can’t put him in daycare, so I can’t go back to work, and now I’m fucked.

It would have been so much easier to put him in daycare when my mat leave ended when he was 12 months, but now we have a thing together and there’s no possible way I couldn’t be with him all day, I love him way too much now. I love every single minute of every single day we have together, more than anything.  That makes me sound like I really didn’t give a shit about him at 12 months, which isn’t true. I just maybe gave less of a shit than I do now. Wait, that’s also not true. It’s just that at 12 months babies are A LOT of work and no reward. Barf cleaning, poop cleaning, crying for no reason, and they don’t do anything, it’s really really boring. But now he does cool stuff, and we talk to each other all day, and we have so much fun. And if he barfs or poops (and he does all the time, so it’s great), he tells me to clean it because he’s demanding, but then we do laundry together, and take long fun baths, and it’s not so bad. He also tells me what he wants to do all day, so we do it, and then he spends the rest of his day recounting what we did and laughing. HOW CAN I PUT THAT IN DAYCARE???   I can’t, and so I’m broke for the foreseeable future. Although I can’t even pay rent now, so I’m beyond broke and moderately scared, I have no clue what I just got myself into. Massive fail.

I really thought by now it’d be easier to put him in daycare because I thought I could just tell him he was going to daycare and he’d understand, so it wouldn’t be like I was randomly dropping him off somewhere he didn’t know. But that’s the problem, that now he does understand, and he isn’t going to have any of it. He has a serious complainey attitude problem, which I have no idea where he gets it from at all, in the least. At. All. So he’s not going to even go to daycare if I wanted him to. He would leave and come home himself, I know it. Either that or he gets kicked out of daycare for swearing, which is a very very strong possibility. And it should be noted that I wasn’t the one to teach him to swear. Brian said “holy shit” by accident one time, and Max just repeated it. Also, he heard the F word when we were watching Wolf of Wall Street, before I knew he could even acknowledge  things he heard on TV. And in all fairness I didn’t know Max was in the room when I was watching it.  And that means now I just watch Food Network all day, because I can’t deal with what he’s picking up wherever, and because I watch Food Network all day, I’m hungry all day, and because I’m hungry all day, I eat all day, and because I eat all day, I get really fat all day, and because I get fat all day, we run out of food quicker, and because of that I need to buy more groceries, and because of that I run out of money sooner. And this is the circle of life in my house.


Send money

Fancy Poop

God, this year is literally the worst year ever. So much crap has happened, I can’t even keep track of it. Broken ankle, sick from Jan – March, a bunch of other horrible stuff, my car getting totalled, just the worst. THEN yesterday morning I see this huge lump on Max’s neck. Like huge though, the size of a quarter sticking out of his neck. KILL ME. I can’t even describe to you the feeling you get, I can’t. And with the way this year was going, my first thought was “of course”.

I anxiously called the doctor, he’s amazing and saw us same day, but I had to wait 7 hours for the appointment (from the time I saw the lump). Can I even describe how it was the longest 7 hours of my life?!?! Max legit played on the iPad for 7 straight hours, I couldn’t play with him, I barely fed him lunch, I just couldn’t think or do anything. I sat on my couch staring out the window for 7 hours. I tried not to get ahead of myself obviously, I’m not that panicky mom, at least not since I stopped Googling medical things when he was 4 weeks old and I diagnosed him with like 20 things he didn’t have. So I wasn’t blowing it out of proportion in my mind, but just having to wait 7 hours to hear what it could be, what tests we’d have to do, etc… just the worst. I can’t even say it was scary because it was beyond scary, it was a word I don’t even think exists.

The doctor checked it out and said everything is fine, it’s normal thankfully. Relief doesn’t even describe how I felt when I heard that. Today, I feel so lucky to have him here and healthy, and I’m so sad for anyone who’s ever had to go through anything horrible. I can’t stop looking at him and realizing how lucky I am right now.

Ok cheesy horrible post over… now for the good stuff…

Today we went to an indoor kids playground for yuppies. No seriously, you can’t get in unless your kids name is Max, Logan, Isla, or Atticus, and instead of Goldfish or Yogurt for snacks, you have to bring quinoa and kale. Everyone in there was so fancy today. No exaggeration, 5 different moms wearing blazers and fancy expensive scarves. They had their hair all done up and everything, like super fancy. Please note that I’m wearing leggings, a wrinkly sweatshirt that I yanked out of the dryer half wet, no bra, possibly no underwear, I don’t even know… and I haven’t showered yet. But good for them. Really good for them.

All the kids are playing on the slides and at the exact same time, we all smell it… it’s disgusting. Who’s child is it from? And just like dominoes, you see each mom go and smell their kids bum. It’s fucking disgusting. But they do it, and I do it, and we all do it, and shut up if you say you haven’t done it, and if you have no kids then I understand how gross this is, but you WILL do it one day, and you will enjoy it. The look of a room full of very fancy dressed business women smelling bums for poop, knowing that later this afternoon they’re probably going to pitch some fancy marketing strategy they worked all night on to an exec at a major company and have to be super professional about it, KNOWING that 2 hours prior they smelled someones bum for poo, it makes my day just that much brighter.

Stay At Home Moms

Stay at home moms are a bunch of crazy bitches. I’m thankful every single day that the mom friends I have are normal and awesome, and their crazy matches my crazy, so it’s a win win.  Because honestly, I just can’t. The following two things just happened, no exaggeration…

I unfortunately Googled “birthday party for 2 year old” to get some ideas for Max’s party. And I literally got judged the fuck off the internet for it.  Reading mommy blogs/comments (my first mistake) saying “Why are you throwing a 2 year old a party?? They don’t even know what’s happening!!” “What a waste of money! 2 year olds don’t like parties” “you’re selfish, you’re throwing it for yourself to show off! (true)”. Honestly, moms need to chill out, like really really really calm down. I know lots of people who aren’t throwing/haven’t thrown parties for their kids, and guess what?? Guess!?!? I don’t even care, because IT DOESN’T AFFECT ME IN THE LEAST. And guess what else?!  There is no right or wrong! Throw a party, don’t throw a party, what does it matter?! All I’m trying to find out is, is Thomas the Tank Engine a better theme for a 2 year old, or Sesame Street? And instead I found out that I’m an asshole showing off all the money I don’t make and friends I don’t have by being a stay at home mom, and CPS is probably coming to my door.

Secondly, I’m part of some mom Facebook groups, 99%* only for the entertainment when they start fighting with each other, it’s hilarious.  So this mom posts something about how she has some leftover prenatal vitamins, if anyone wants them she’ll sell them for $5.00 or just give them away. I’m actually laughing out loud right now.  The Group admin (who loves her fake job) had to come on the page and post “Uh, don’t post prescriptions or pills or vitamins on here.” OBVIOUSLY. THEN a bunch of other moms are like “Why not?!?!”. WHY. NOT. These are the people raising our future. This is what we have to look forward to. THIS!

Max has to go to school with these people’s children, and I’m going to have to explain to him about how the world is a shit show and most people are idiots, so good luck and laugh your way through it. And don’t take free pills from strangers on Facebook.

*1% so I can buy used clothes/toys

Snow Day Fail

What’s life like with a toddler?  Well if you read my post yesterday, you’d see all the big things I had planned!! So exciting!

Here’s what really happened:

He slept in till 9:30, which you would assume would be amazing, but it’s not, because then everything else happens 2 hours later than it should, and he ends up going to bed at 10pm instead of 8pm, but what the hell, it’s not like I have to be at work tomorrow, plus he’s fun at night.  So, at 9:30 I went to get him and saw that he pee’d himself, and his crib, then didn’t want a bath. After 20 minutes of laughing and chasing, I finally got him in the water, then he wouldn’t come out. After another 30 minutes of slippery giggly convincing to get him out, I went upstairs and cleaned the pee out of his crib, did the laundry, etc…  then I made breakfast that he didn’t want to eat. Then he started eating it. Then he stopped. An hour later I gave up and ended breakfast.  It’s now 11am.

Finally time for our walk! Except now the snow was melting. I got all his gear on, and by the time we got outside (12pm!) it was gross raining and the snow was gone. We walked for a bit, but he wouldn’t keep his hands covered, and they were freezing, and he didn’t want to wear his hat or his boots, I’m not letting him win/get frost bite. We turned around and came back in. I went to make his bed while he was quiet downstairs, which you would assume is a good thing, but it isn’t. Quiet means “up to something”. Always. No matter what.

I’ve yet to sit down today, I figure we can at least watch some cozy christmas TV for a bit. And we did, but we did for a “toddler bit” and a “toddler bit” is equal to 14 seconds, unless it’s Sesame Street in which it’s 32 seconds. He wants me to play a bunch of other very active games with him, and not that I’m lazy (I am lazy), but I’m fairly tired already. I try to play with his trains, his blocks, his books, his castle, his cars, I taught him this fun puzzle thing, so that was awesome. Then I introduced him to markers, which he uses on the hardwood floor because he’s into modern art and he’s expressing himself and his life struggles, thank you very much.

Then I make lunch, which he’s decided he’d like to eat very slowly until he gets bored and says he’s done, which is fine because I’m also bored of watching him eat peas one at a time. I try to put him down for his nap, where he’s like “fuck off no” basically. I have to pretend I’m sleeping on his crib for 20 minutes in order for him to go to sleep, which i’m not going to lie, I love… because I get to watch him be all cozy sleepy peaceful, it’s the cutest thing ever, and kills me every single time. Then I sneak out of his room while he’s sleeping, but my belt gets stuck on the fan and makes a huge noise and I almost cry. I come back downstairs to do dishes, and clean the living room. Aaaaand that’s my snow day.

Side note: I didn’t mention any of the poop that went on, because I don’t talk about poop. but there was poop. Lots of poop. Oh, I also didn’t mention that I tried to make muffins with him and he decided to eat a handful of raw egg.

Lesson learned: Don’t. Plan. Anything. Especially if the snow isn’t going to stick around! Fail.  Also, raw egg doesn’t always make kids sick… so far. I wonder how long that takes until I know he won’t get sick. I can’t google it because I don’t google medical things. They were organic eggs, if that makes it any better?