At some point, two wannabe opera singers (ages seven and five) attempted to match high-pitched squeals, inhaling dark, guttural noises in a joint refusal to be the first to give up holding the note and in doing so, meeting somewhere on the scales of treble and bass deaf clef, my facial tic took on a personality of its own. This offensive, nails-on-a-chalkboard behaviour lasted the better part of fifteen minutes until….
“No! Shut this down before my head explodes!”
Silence.
That’s right. Mommy is having a moment and perhaps some background is required.
Chloe and I spent some time working on repeating and pointing out the parts of the face this morning. She still defaults to the nose when she’s unsure of the answer but she became an expert at eye. So much so, she was never fully satisfied that I understood she knew where my eyes were unless she could use her tiny pinchers to actually clasp my entire eyeball and squeeze it out of the socket.
The plastic claw meant to pick up toys but instead lies in a pile among them (oh the irony) was used to clock me in the face shortly afterward chipping several bones in my cheek, understand, I’m wearing a patch from the earlier eye-ball grasping and now have a Sleeping Beauty, Dollarama ice pack on my cheek.
Enter the musical stylings of big sister Loudbark and middle sister Screech Powers and either I was on a hidden camera show or I simply had to find a way to decompress.
The truth is, not every day is a great one. Most are, many moments are delightful and the wonderful ones far outweigh the 9-1-1 calls and trips to emerge but there are moments when this Mommy could use a wee break. There I said it.
While I’m confessing, I hate play-doh! So there! I recognize there are many, many muscle building, brain developing, manual dexterity positives, taste sensations developed but let me be selfishly clear, I just hate it. I hate the smear it leaves on the table, the dried bits that are dragged throughout the house the way it adheres to people’s socks and is stomped around the carpet. Hate it.
After being hit in the head with the claw and kneed in the chin by a child who insisted they needed help pulling off a pair of jeans that were too tight, taping together three puzzle pieces the baby had chewed, she approached my head, wrapped her little arms around my neck and said, “Ug?” Thanks for the ug Chloe. That was the nicest, warmest ug I’ve ever had. What other employer could dish out an ug like that without a harassment suit?
It didn’t stop with the ug. She then with a flattened palm on my cheek slapped my head to the side as lovingly as she knew how, planted her lips on my cheek, paused, removed her lips and then as if the time delay had caught up with her, looked me in the one eye I had exposed, pursed her lips together and made a kissy sound. I melted.
Like any job, not every day is going to be great. But do the wonderful moments outweigh the bad ones?
A million to one.
I may however need to invest in some sort of all over body pillow, earplugs and a helmet at least until they are a little older.
