Spuds & Tantrums

Friday, 18 May 2012

Wednesday night was what one can only describe as abysmal.  The Toddler was feeding hourly due to pesky teeth so as a result I was dreadfully tired.  The Husband was kind enough to let me retire to bed in the morning yet I must confess, rather then sleep I read.  Still, it was nice to be alone and not be mauled and pawed for a while.  The Toddler appeared to be on a poo mission yesterday and rather then nap, he poo'd, several times in fact. Neither The Husband nor myself were particularly impressed to say the least.  Subsequently I then had to spend the rest of the day ensuring he didn't fall asleep and make bedtime even longer then it already is.  Hence The Toddler walking up the tree tunnel home from the shops, he looked rather too much like he was dozing off on my back in the sling so I evicted the wee fellow, mean mummy that I am.  However tantrums were rife when towards home The Husband handed him over to me as only daddy's hand will do, apparently.  I don't really cater to tantrums.  I figure he has a right to feel whatever emotion it is he feels, however it doesn't mean his way of dealing with it will change anything.  So I let him get on with his little tantrum, yes the full lie on the path and cry type, watching over with him until he was ready to accept that yes although he doesn't have to like it, that's absolutely his prerogative but he must hold my hand regardless should he wish to get home any time soon. 

Unfortunately The Toddler isn't the only tantrummer.  Thing One spent his pocket money on a plastic spud gun (I know I know, we point blank banned gun toys when he was younger much to his  utter dismay however, now he's old enough to fully understand what a gun is and what it represents...c'est la vie.  I played with a gun and I'm not quite a homicidal psychopath, well not all the time at least. He was given one rule with regards to playing with it, do not aim at anyone or hit anyone with the spud ammo.  Within five minutes I felt one on me.  He could have aimed at the floor, to the sides, behind him but no, he aimed at me and he was smirking.  Cue a huge tantrum when The Husband confiscated the offending item as Thing One simply refuses to accept responsibility for his actions with a complete inability to hold his hands up and say 'i'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it' First he blamed the maker of the gun, then he blamed Thing Two and finally blamed....the weather.  Needless to say the discourse only served to infuriate The Husband even more into a state of complete exasperation.  Then there was tea time last night, The Toddler did another impromptu poo, this time during tea, whilst we sorted him out I clearly heard Thing Two shout 'NO' at Thing One before the familiar stampede of Their feet to the stairs blathering and arguing as Thing Two accused Thing One of stealing her chicken and Thing One clearly denied it till he was blue in the face (or red actually) However I had a trick up my sleeve, I knew all he had left to eat was sweetcorn which he was dutifully eating when I went upstairs so I asked him to open his mouth.  What did i see on his tongue? The remnant of a mouthful of chicken.  His story then changed to 'She gave it to me!' to which I rationalised to him that if she gave it to him that suggests she wanted him to have it so why would she then shout no, burst into tears and grass him up?  Once again, half an hour later he admitted she was right.
The mystery of the missing book bag has been solved.  The Husband had phoned the taxi rank and the shops they went in and no book bag had been handed in.  However, yesterday Thing One jubilantly skipped out of school with his book bag in hand.  Apparently one of the school's dinner ladies has a friend, who had evidently used the same taxi that The Husband and Thing One had, found the book bag and gave it to her Friend to take into work who then in turn found Connor and handed it back to him.  It's the small things that restore an element of faith in humanity.

The Toddler remarkably went to sleep incredibly easily last night with the usual 3-4 wakings as opposed to the recent 10+.  Now I know The Husband would commit the relationship faux pas of saying 'I told you that you shouldn't let him nap so he'd sleep better at night' which is all very well in theory but he does need a nap most days otherwise he gets beastly tired then manic not to mention I need the nap too.  So although I rather enjoyed the better bedtime, I'm putting it down as an anomaly as opposed to a direct result of not napping.

After a shocking nights sleep the night before I should have made the most of it and slept, however, I finished my third book in as many days instead.  Oops.


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