The reality of preschoolers/toddlers/life suckers (same thing)

I follow a lot of blogs and by "a lot" of blogs, I mean, a.LOT.of.blogs.  I'd be almost embarrassed to share my blog feed on Google Reader.  It's in a perpetual state of 1,000+ feeds to read.  Good thing I love to read.  I love creativity. I love new recipes.  I love good, witty, personable writers.  

Some are blogs of epicurean creations.  

Some are blogs of organizational genius.  

Some are blogs of photography inspiration and tutorials.  

Some are blogs of domestic creativity and amazing home decor.

Some are blogs on life, in general.  

Some are blogs on parenting.  

Of those parenting blogs -- some are "sunshine and roses" and some are more like a hard-core dose of reality.  Mine, I fear, would fall into the latter category.  It's no secret that I do not sugar coat much of anything -- not with my friends, not with my boys and not with my blog.  Life is -- what it is.  

So, I thought I'd give you a dose of what it's like at MY house with an almost three-year-old.

• The diffuser for my hair dryer is in the family room floor.  It has been used as a megaphone all day.
• There are two or three blankets shoved under the coffee table in the family room now covered in dust and dog hair because apparently, it's more fun to shove them places and then ask ME to find them than it is to -- I don't know... keep up with your shit.  (We're still searching for the "green binkie" which went missing three days ago.)
• There are two spatulas upstairs.  I don't want to even speculate what those were used for.  Don't worry, I will wash them before putting them back in the drawer.
• My bed is full of cookie crumbs... and sprinkles.  Don't ask... he knows how to open doors now.  
• There is a plastic lizard in my closet.
• There are three missing sippy cups, probably full of sour milk somewhere throughout the house... slowly leaking.
• The playroom looks as if an atom bomb were detonated moments ago.  Shelves emptied, drawers emptied and overturned, chocolate milk spilled on the beanbag...and don't even get me started on the carpet.
• I found a Lego man's head in my closet.  
• My make-up powder and blending brushes have been used to paint the shower door.
• Shelves have been emptied of books upstairs in the book nook.  I tried to replace them just once today.
• He used a Q-tips to clean his ear... and then proceeded to put it back in the container.  My inner germaphobe tells me they should all be disposed of but I didn't. Shhhhhh, don't tell anyone.
• There is a pirate ship in the dining room.
• There is a missing basketball on top of my cabinets in the kitchen.
• There are HARD dried clementine peels thrown about the entire downstairs... if you cut your foot, I'm sorry.  This is another reason I always wear shoes.

And this... this is just the past two days.  I could go on but, I'm fairly certain you "get me" unless you're just an idiot... and then just keep on a moovin' along, Bessie.  

It's been a trying day.  I woke up with a migraine which led to nausea.  It's been a trying day.  Did I say that already?  Let me say it again... it's been a trying day.

Benji runs with any mention of a diaper change.  Runs.  Hides.  Throws things at you and pushes moving items TOWARD you.  Unless you can completely divert his attention during said diaper change, he tries to kick you... in the throat, boob, face...

If he doesn't get his way, he screams.  If you answer said screaming request with a "No" -- he screams... LOUDER.  

Yesterday afternoon consisted of a trip to Market Street. I thought an outing for a few things and a package of cookies would tame the toddler beast... yeah, FAT CHANCE!  He had to have his own basket (the kind you carry, not push.)  Everyone thought it was "OH SO ADORABLE".  I got the smiles all around.  "Ooooh, isn't he just SO SWEET?"  

Let me answer.  NO... NO HE IS NOT.

Now that he's found what a basket is for, he feels that anything and everything he thinks he needs should go IN said basket. Try telling a toddler NOT to pull the bottom apple out of the pile.  It doesn't work.  Yeah, he did that.

We get to the checkout counter.  He has his bottle of water from the cooler that is conveniently located at his level by the checkout.  I said yes to the bottle of water to prevent an epic tantrum from him hearing "no" one more time.  Pick your battles I say.  It's water.  Who cares.

He empties his basket.  I empty mine.  Without ANY warning, he BOLTS FOR THE DOOR.  Luckily, the IN door doesn't open from the INSIDE.  I scoop him up and tell him he has to push the buttons so that we can pay.  

Buttons?  He's all in! 

Seriously, it's like "squirrel" with his attention span at times.

I tell him, "We're walking outside.  You have to hold my hand."  He BOLTS for the parking lot trying to disengage my grip.  I firmly say that he must hold my hand.  That sends him into what I describe as "the full blown noodle body."  He's completely limp.  I pull on his hand/arm/body trying to MAKE him stand up.  He refuses so now he's dangling there as if I just caught a damn SPOILED ROTTON TODDLER FISH!  Then, as if this weren't enough, he launches the bottle of water.  

You want a clearer picture?  I've got ZERO patience, two bags of groceries, a tantrum and a runaway bottle of water.  I'm irritated.  What do I do?  What any mom should.... I scooped his ass up like a 40 pound bag of sand and throw him over my shoulder... screaming, hitting, kicking and crying.  Yes I did.  I squatted down, picked up the bottle of water.... tossed it in the bag and walked to the car.  Strapped him in.  Shut the door.  

The ride home was even more fun.  He was SCREAMING and CRYING and trying to kick the seat (I'd moved the front passenger seat up so that he couldn't kick it) and so I just rolled down the windows and turned the radio on.  The louder he screamed, the louder the music and the more I sang.  

Pretty soon, he got it.

He shut up.

I still sang.

Toddlers really can SUCK the life out of you.

The only reason they live so long is because they're cute.