Speedy Gonzales
Three weeks ago Ryan started crawling, and in almost no time he went from just figuring out what locomotion meant, to high-speed crawling. I used to be able to plop him on the kitchen floor with a basket of toys when I got home from work and leisurely walk to the back door to let Syd out to do her business. My only concern was Colin trying to "help" (particularly after he had removed his shoes and jacket).
Things are different now.
Now it is a timed event. Put the baby down, sprint for the back door, let Syd out, then plead with her ("C'mon Syd. Pee... please. Time to pee-pee Sydney. C'mon... C'MON!) Then I'll hear it.
SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!
The sound of Ryan, making a high-speed beeline for the back door with intent to topple out (head first, of course) onto the cement.
I then have to do a unique dance. Try and let Sydney in the house, keep Colin from running off (probably in his stocking feet, on wet grass), all the while the baby is trying to bull his way out the back door, nudging at all of us with his head.
This was all crazy enough, but apparently Ryan thought things were too serene. So today he upped things a notch.
The cleaning lady was supposed to come today, then last night sent a text that she might not be able to come. We were texting back and forth (think you can make it? I don't know. Let me know when you find out.) until I went to bed. This sounds like no big deal, but our lives are a bit chaotic. So preparation for the cleaning ladies typically involves me running around like a lunatic trying to pick up toys, strip beds, and generally get the house in a state where it will be possible for the ladies to actually clean. On cleaning day the morning typically involves a high level of anxiety for me, trying to get everything ready, and feed/clothe/prep the kids and dog, and get out of the house by 10:00. It sounds eazy-breezy, but it just isn't. At 9:55AM I am typically sweaty, stressed, and harried, but if I can get up before 8:00 it usually works. Just barely, but it works.
Today at 9:12AM I got a text saying that they would be coming after all (hooray) but that they would be here in 15 minutes. PANIC The beds weren't stripped, Hari had a pile of clothes (clean but unfolded) in the corner of our bedroom, and there were toys literally everywhere. I was running around like crazy trying to get things done upstairs, and left Colin and the baby playing downstairs. It was momentarily too quiet so I peeked downstairs... and saw... the baby, standing on the first stair and making for the second one.
AAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
The kid is newly crawling, barely standing and he's already crusing, and now... HE IS CLIMBING STAIRS.
The fact that my hair isn't stark white right now is a miracle of nature. Yes, I know this is all a natural progression, but it is supposed to be exactly that - a PROGRESSION. Not KABOOM the kid is everywhere.
I'd ask for mercy but know it isn't going to happen. My life has descended into chaos - the conversion is complete.
Things are different now.
Now it is a timed event. Put the baby down, sprint for the back door, let Syd out, then plead with her ("C'mon Syd. Pee... please. Time to pee-pee Sydney. C'mon... C'MON!) Then I'll hear it.
SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!
The sound of Ryan, making a high-speed beeline for the back door with intent to topple out (head first, of course) onto the cement.
I then have to do a unique dance. Try and let Sydney in the house, keep Colin from running off (probably in his stocking feet, on wet grass), all the while the baby is trying to bull his way out the back door, nudging at all of us with his head.
This was all crazy enough, but apparently Ryan thought things were too serene. So today he upped things a notch.
The cleaning lady was supposed to come today, then last night sent a text that she might not be able to come. We were texting back and forth (think you can make it? I don't know. Let me know when you find out.) until I went to bed. This sounds like no big deal, but our lives are a bit chaotic. So preparation for the cleaning ladies typically involves me running around like a lunatic trying to pick up toys, strip beds, and generally get the house in a state where it will be possible for the ladies to actually clean. On cleaning day the morning typically involves a high level of anxiety for me, trying to get everything ready, and feed/clothe/prep the kids and dog, and get out of the house by 10:00. It sounds eazy-breezy, but it just isn't. At 9:55AM I am typically sweaty, stressed, and harried, but if I can get up before 8:00 it usually works. Just barely, but it works.
Today at 9:12AM I got a text saying that they would be coming after all (hooray) but that they would be here in 15 minutes. PANIC The beds weren't stripped, Hari had a pile of clothes (clean but unfolded) in the corner of our bedroom, and there were toys literally everywhere. I was running around like crazy trying to get things done upstairs, and left Colin and the baby playing downstairs. It was momentarily too quiet so I peeked downstairs... and saw... the baby, standing on the first stair and making for the second one.
AAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
The fact that my hair isn't stark white right now is a miracle of nature. Yes, I know this is all a natural progression, but it is supposed to be exactly that - a PROGRESSION. Not KABOOM the kid is everywhere.
I'd ask for mercy but know it isn't going to happen. My life has descended into chaos - the conversion is complete.
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