We finally found some new music we like….
Hold this. and this…. and this…. but give me back the first thing….
(Kind of the reverse of Steve Martin’s The Jerk)
Maddi is going through this insane phase that started about two weeks ago. I’m calling it the”Hold This” phase. I really didn’t see it creeping up at first but then all of a sudden yesterday I wake out of a morning mental fog to find myself cooking eggs for breakfast (which is normal) holding a spatula in my right hand (still normal) and in my left were three hair brushes and an Elmo doll. Balanced between my knees was a stuffed animal poodle backpack and sitting on one barefoot was a rubber duck leaking out yesterday’s bath water between my toes. This was not normal. Usually I only hold two brushes when cooking breakfast. So I started paying attention and have identified the following steps. Not that it helps.
First it is the Trade Agreement stage – she looks at the items in her hands and decides which I should hold, then after handing it to me, she changes her mind and trades it for something else. This can go on for days. So I start to try to improvise, and put the items down next to me so I can finish dishes while she decides. I’ll never do that again, we’ll just say it was a bad experience and I don’t want to talk about it. So I go back to patiently waiting for the Trade Agreement to end. She makes her final selections and turns back towards the living room. Just when I think it safe to put them down and resume dishes, she comes back with an additional item. This is the Balancing Act stage. If I put something down I get schooled, so I try to figure out how to hold everything while she begins the Trade Agreement all over again. Eventually, she is happy and turns back to the living room and I try once again to finish washing the same mug I started cleaning 20 minutes ago. Less than a blink later, I’m getting the Pant Leg Tug followed by the Press. We all know the Pant Leg Tug.. it kind of has a grace period, so I pretend I didn’t notice just long enough to dry my hands, but before I can jump to her demands, she starts Pressing the object into my thigh. On Planet Toddler, available receiving hands are optional. You can simply squish the object into any part of the parental unit and apparently the more force you use, the better it will stick. This is called the Press and I’m considering wrapping myself in double stick tape to proactively head off the Press and stop the bruising. If anyone knows when the Hold This stage ends or has any advice, I would LOVE to hear it. Until then I’ll work on my juggling.
So this is me: 7 day a week solo mom and 6+ day a week freelance graphic artist and writer. That means every day I am changing, feeding, cleaning, entertaining, educating, cuddling, saving, walking, settling, reading to and loving up the baby while working from home hustling for freelance work -and- taking out the trash, doing the dishes, the laundry, changing the lightbulbs, paying the bills, vacuuming, getting the mail and all that other good stuff. On top of all that, I am a workout junkie. 6+ days a week I run at least two miles and the days I can’t get a run in, I’m on the stationary bike for at least 30 minutes. It takes a lot of dedication to find the time (sometimes after midnight) and energy to work out everyday, it really does. Especially when the baby is up all night or I have a crazy project deadline, but I do it. Plainly put, I work my ass off so I can work my ass out. So my point is that if I am going to put the effort in, I want gear that will keep up with me. I’m talking specifically about sports bras. I’ve had more $40+ “sports” bras explode or bend in the wash, come apart all together, start to remove skin around mile three, or just plain look bizarre. I’m not asking for world peace here, just a good running bra. “Maximum Support” means you have to have to pull it on over your head and if your dimensions happen to measure your chest smaller than the space between your elbows plus noggin (duh) good luck with that. “Minimum Support” means t-shirt uniboob. And if they are going to charge $60+ for a sports bra, it better be made of recycled space shuttle parts with a whole team of science rocketists on the quality control line. I’m talking to to you, Angels. Some people actually work out in these things, not just troll for husbands while prancing around at the gym. Rant over.
At one point can you just stop cleaning up the toys? The room gets trashed, you pick it all up, and then the room gets trashed again. If the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome, this is surely it. Are there variations of acceptable clean? Like Expecting Company clean or OK To Go To Bed Like This clean? And who sets the expectation as to what level of clean needs to be attained per situation? If you are cleaning for company, I guess the cleanliness level must be computed by what you know of your guests? What their house looks like + their tolerance for kids = level of clean? But then what does that say about people who clean before their housekeepers come? The housekeeper comes because the house is dirty, but somehow she is also still a guest? Or do you just not want her to talk about you later and how gross you are? How does that work? I’d really like to exploit some loopholes and give up all together.