So I was off today, and had Simon all to myself, and we did a lot of things, so I thought I’d try to note them here- since no one really cares and I sometimes like to remember the little things.
I woke up this morning to Gabe telling me, “He wants his mommy.” Which means, Simon is not going to be let out of his room (yes, he’s still gated, which is probably equivalent to crate training and a fire hazard but i like to think we’re avoiding head injuries by gating him into his room) and come down the hall to cuddle with me and “my precious” (macbook) and watch Caillou while I doze peacefully back to sleep. Instead, I must put on pants and go down to his room and lay in his bed. When I get there, he is digging “crawlers” out of his nose and dropping them over the side of his bed saying, “Don’t worry mommy, I put the crawlers on the floor.” Good, son. Good.
We come downstairs to a breakfast of Golden Grahams and black berries and I wrap my arms around my coffee maker to make sure it’s still warm. It’s on the fritz. So far it is still brewing, but promptly loses all power after eeking out the last drop. Still hot, coffee poured.
I suffer through two episodes of Sesame street while Simon BEGS me to PLAY BASEBALL MOMMY NOW PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE PLAY BASEBALL. While I try to get laundry sorted to throw downstairs and start. I convince him to eat. I rustle up laundry.
Grabbing a banana as a Healthy Breakfast with my 6 cups of coffee and creamer and splenda, I note that the bananas are far to brown for my Dear Prince to ingest (not my issue, his). So I decide to make banana bread. Google. Find one that has all ingredients I possess. Start mixing. Simon hears the mixer and thinks I have a drill. Is interested in my “baking drill”. Helps me make banana bread. As I pop it in the oven and go to the microwave to nuke #6 cup of coffee, I notice that, “oh. the butter I softened. Still in there.” (Speaking of, I always assume soften means melt-in-microwave.) Pull banana bread from oven, remix. Respray loaf pan. Re-put in oven. Re-wash mixing bowls and spoons.
Head upstairs to put on workout clothes. Let Simon know we’re going to the gym.
“We CAN’T!” says he.
“Why not?” says I.
“We CAN’T GO TO THE GYM.”
“But you want to play in the little cars…you like it.”
Okay kid, good enough. We won’t go. I continue straightening, laundry. I think, “Let’s go to target.” Get buy-in from child. He’s ready.
Getting in the car we make sure the Rock Family is all there, Mommy Rock, Daddy Rock and Baby rock. At Target I spent $100 on stuff we don’t need, $11 on stuff we do.
Leave Target, go have lunch with Erin and CIndy, two dear friends. Simon is infatuated with Erin, who has babysat him once. The entire time we are there eating he’s trying to get her attention, talking to her about her earrings, and just about anything she might be interested in. Then he squeezes his chocolate milk box (whoever created these was NOT A PARENT) and it was like a chocolate milk volcano 5 feet into the air. I freaked. Milk everywhere. It’s an accident honey, it’s okay. No big deal.
We get back in the car, head home for a nap. He was open to the nap taking because I told him Erin was also taking a nap at her house, and she is the coolest person in the world. We laid down and read books. I left his room and went to my room, setting my timer for 35 minutes to allow myself the great pleasure of a nap as well, but also enough time to continue doing laundry and washing things. All the things.
Exactly 35 minutes later my phone alerts me to wake up (never slept) and Simon is yelling MOMMY I AM NOT SLEEPY. I AM AWAKE. I walk to his door. “I see that, son,” and we go downstairs.
The rest of the day consisted of a walk around the block, painting rocks, a trip to the drug store and the “lettuce store” and playing outside near a construction cone for about 3 hours. I managed to make tacos and corn on the cob by the time Gabe came home from work and I was/am exhausted.
This child is so much fun. He says hilarious things. Like at CVS we’re waiting in line to buy allergy medicine for Gabe and he says “Mommy. I’m gonna dance in the store,” and just breaks it down. He BEGGED for me to buy him “boo boo goggles” so I found the cheapest pair of swimming goggles i could find and he had to wear them all day. In the evening I heard the loudest THUNK in the world and he had dove off the couch onto his chest “swimming”.
And there’s always the “I’m NOT pooping mommy” and asking anyone remotely his size/age “Do you go on the potty?” talk. Strangers walking down our street- 2 years old with mom…Simon asks, “Does she wear underpants?”
There isn’t enough time and energy to report it all folks, but I’ll tell you, hanging out with my kid is funnier and more exhausting every.day.
Now I start the 7 day week of work tomorrow. 7 is nothing compared to some. But man oh man, it’s a doozy.
EDIT- The banana bread turned out great, probably because when I pulled it out to mix in the completely melted butter, I threw in about two handfuls of chocolate chips. Domestic Goddess right here.