my precious
My two year old seems to be regressing from his staunch independence, lately, or else he is just honing his manipulation skills. He’s been sick, off and on, for months. Cold upon cold upon cold. They morph together. Once in a while his temperature is elevated and he becomes quiet or fussy. Mostly he goes on about his normal two year old business, full of energy, bouncing off the walls, following me around like a velcro shadow.
He’s become addicted to his binky. Where it used to be a convenient plug to keep his mouth otherwise engaged, hence safe from all manner of frightening and not- meant- for- ingestion foreign objects that lurk about my household, it is now a full blown addiction. He has a specific one that he wants, and the collection is stored on a particular shelf in the kitchen. I encourage him to put it away on the shelf, so that he knows where it is when next he wants it. So far, this works well; he understands and complies! Alas, and not surprisingly, the favorite binky didn’t return from his last visit with his father, so after much wailing and gnashing of teeth, he resorted to the next favorite. He calls it his ‘cody’ and throws a holy fit if I don’t have it with me when I pick him up from daycare. I usually don’t give it to him, though. I’m so stubborn, and I don’t like him having an addiction. Such a mean mama, me.
Along with the binky, he is also suddenly attached to a certain (few) blanket(s). Generally, there is a specific red one that he likes, but occasionally he alternates with a tan one. Luckily, I have two tan and two red blankies with the same texture, so if/when one gets misplaced or put through the wash, there are others standing by to avert meltdowns and things of that nature.
If I attempt to use my phone or laptop, he physically slaps my hands away from the keys. My child is yearning for more of my attention, clearly. Such a controlling little one, my Tiger Beat.
An adorable opportunist, too. He likes to play with the rice cooker, opening and closing the lid, over and over and over again. He purposefully pretends to get his fingers caught then comes to me with fingers outstretched, earnest look on his face, begging for make- me- all- better kisses.
my little super man
Since he’s been sick, he’s been waking in the night and coming to find me. Granted, he’s had some justifiably bad nights with fever and vomiting on one occasion in particular. But it seems to be dragging on and becoming a nightly pattern that I’d very much like to nip in the bud (even though a part of me would love to snuggle my children close — the same part of me who would very much like to be cuddled close, made to feel safe, loved and protected, all the night long). If my door is closed, he kneels outside it and cries, or he knocks and cries. If my door is open, he wants to climb into bed with me. I take him back to his room to try and settle him, but it seems like he tries to keep himself awake, watching me to make sure I don’t leave. Last night (early this morning) he came to my room, crying, at 2:38 am. I took him to his room, changed his diaper, and lay down with him to settle him. I would rest for a while, then open my eyes to look at him, and there he’d be, his little eyes open, shining in the dark, peering at me. He was still awake at 4:30 am, looking at me. Around 5 am I went to my room, and put on my cpap mask. Pitter patter, the sound of little feet. I watched him look for me, first in the bathroom, then in the other bedroom, then in my room. He climbed onto my bed (I let him) then complained about the mask and wouldn’t settle. I removed the mask and tried to make him cozy and comfortable and he finally fell asleep around 5:30 am. Of course, 6:30 am rolled around and I had to get up. He followed. He’s in surprisingly good spirits for a little guy who got very little sleep. Me, not so much. I went to bed around midnight, so two and a half hours plus one more just doesn’t cut it well for me.
What to do, what to do.
the loves of my life
