Two and Three (and You and Me)
Matthew turned three last month. Since the very day he turned three, he’s been a little snot. Yep, I said it. A snot.
He now demonstrates defiance with a smirk and this blinking thing, that, without mincing words, drives me insane.
He’s also begun an all-out strike against sleeping in his room, or, more accurately, sleeping in general.
Naptime, when he doesn’t fall asleep, is difficult at best. He opens his bedroom door, his closet doors, and his blinds, bends down the adjustable lights on his lamp, and drags his heavy, wooden puzzle stool onto his bed. Oh, and then runs back and forth.
Michael, across the hall, has apparently caught the bug, too. He spends his naptime driving imaginary toy cars up and down the inside of his bedroom door. When I finally give in and open the door, he waves, “Hi, Mommy,” from the floor.
And Maggie? How do I say this? Maggie’s the only one taking a nap.
If you know Maggie at all, you know how bizarre that is. But if you really know Maggie, it makes perfect sense. The nap gives her the extra edge to goad us to the border of psychosis in the middle of the night.
Mealtimes are festivals of flinging, diaper changes are Greco-Roman wrestling exhibitions, and buckling anyone into anything is damn near impossible.
The twins, painfully aware of one another’s existences now, are in perpetual battle for supremacy. If one hugs me, the other hugs me tighter. If one whines, “Mom,” the other whines, “Mommyyyyyyy,” longer and louder. If one kisses me, the other gives more tongue.
And when you throw the three-year-old into the mix, what with all his new food, beverage, and clothing aversions, you’ve got one hell of a party.
The previously complicit children are budding Hellions, and the original Hellion (that’s Maggie) toes the line between (almost) sweet kid and demon seed. I said almost.
My mother, on the phone the other day, ever-helpful about all things parenting offered, “I read this article the other day. Kids change.”
Thanks, Ma. That’s a timely and useful piece of information. It’s a wonder I’m alive.
We’ve been playing red-headed stepchild with Maggie, too. I’m not proud of it, but the thought of bringing her out in public right now gives me hives. Since we don’t know whether we’re going to get Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde, we opt out of the game altogether. Plus, we only have enough arms for two violent tantrums.
I know it’s just a phase and it will pass, but any other time I thought I was being given a run for my money looks like a joke now.
They liked pizza yesterday, but it’s all over the floor today. Matthew’s previously ‘favorite’ juice, has just been slid slyly off the table, and the blue socks simply won’t do anymore. And what are you talking about chicken? I hate chicken.
My poor husband’s taken to naming every meal we cook, just so it won’t end up on the floor. So far, he’s created Spiderman Sandwiches, Cowboy Breakfast, Superhero Rice, and Batman something. I can’t keep track.
Yesterday morning, he made the mistake of enthusiastically asking Matthew if he was ready for some “huevos with fromage”. Of course, Matthew flipped out. When we were finally able to calm him down, and explain to him that ‘fromage’ was actually cheese, he decided he didn’t like cheese anymore.
So, yeah. This is pretty much the way it is right now. Chaos.
If you think you’re about to do something right, don’t worry, you won’t.
You’re a parent of two-year-old twins and a three-year-old boy and you suck.
Posted on February 6, 2013, in Family, humor, parenting, preschool-age children, toddler, twins and tagged family, humor, multiples, parenting, three-year-olds, twins, two-year-olds. Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.
So relatable, my two year refuses to nap and says NO to everything…Loved the post!
Yup. Parents of two-year-olds with accompanying eye-bags and those first dark creases of insanity will tell me how they can’t wait until the “terrible twos” are over. I nod and smile, and if I know them well, I said, “Honey, just wait.” Three-year-olds are a whole new kind of (*ahem*) awesomeness…. It does get better, though. Really!
I have a neighbor with four kids, all over the age of 12, who home schools. You know the type, all sorts of sweet spirited preciousness oozing out of her, with a side of precious sauce. When she came to our garage sale in all her sweetness, as my son vehemently rejects whatever instruction I just gave and runs away from me, I look at her with this look in my eye (the one that says, is it too early for a glass of cab) and embarrassingly proclaim that he’s two. And she, in all serious preciousness replies, “oh, the terrific two’s! I just love that age!” And I almost punched her in her sweet, precious face.
Phony! Phony! She’s a phony! She’s got to be!
NO! I looked at her like she was crazy and laughed, like “hahaha, that’s a funny joke you just made there. A play on words…” And she looked at me and said she was ABSOLUTELY SERIOUS. She loves that age. Again proclaiming that two is a terrific age. And I was like, okay crazy lady, conversation OVER. And do any of your kids babysit?
Dude. I don’t know what to say. B is 3 for another two weeks or so, and the twins are very, very 2. B was always pretty easy- and awesome as far as 2 goes.. but I have been waiting and watching. Linc seems to be the one that I fight with, get frustrated with and break down over. I cried on the stairs Monday because he lost his paci and wouldn’t stop freaking out from 7:50am until I packed them up and bought him a new one at 11:35. It nearly broke me. I suck for giving him a pacifier. But I don’t care because it basically kept me from going into a homicidal rage. These are the days…
Michael still has a pacifier at bedtime. I’m not pleased with myself, but I’m not ready for that battle yet.
You know what I tell myself when my kids are crazy and I want a drink at 10:00am? “They’re growing. They’re using all their energy getting taller right now, and have none left to behave nicely.”
Then I keep handing them more food. (Mashed potato for breakfast? Coming right up!) And after a few days, they seem to settle.
I have no idea whether there’s anything to the feed-a-psycho-child thing, but at least it makes me feel like I have a teeny, tiny measure of control.
HAHAHA. Feed a Psycho! I like it. Though, one psycho just sent her strawberry pancakes overboard. Maybe I can institute it on a psycho-by-psycho basis.
Two’s and three’s are rough, but they are just trying to demonstrate their independence. Embrace it because it means one day… they will move out:)
I have a 3 and 4 year old. My 3 year old screams that I’m not her friend, I’m being ugly, and then slams the door to her room when I say it’s time to put on shoes. My 4 year old is improving, but this morning he ran to his room crying because the pancakes were whole wheat. Why did I even bother trying to make something healthy? Seriously. It’s nap time right now, and I just heard them playing in my 4 year old’s room. At least they aren’t fighting…. For once. Love this blog. I totally relate.
I am already pulling my hair out with 2 daughters, i am so impressed with you having 3 children! My 3.5 year old daughter gives me attitude, and her speech/language is more advanced then children her age, that she picks on my words, and i need to be quick in my mind to respond to her.
Mine doesn’t nap at all…..which is ok i guess, then she sleeps earlier at night.