We’ve had a rough start to Fall. Aside from the boo boo to his face, which has healed very nicely, we had 5 consecutive days of Yes-No-Indecisive-Two-Year-Old-Hell. He literally whined about everything, tested every limit (pulled my hair, forcefully shoved his fingers in my mouth and scratched my gum, intentionally poured a cup of bath water all over the floor, put every nonfood item in his mouth, refused to clean up, to name a few), immediately retracted any decision he made when granted his wishes (he insisted on walking but then would say, “no walk” when we tried to get him out of his stroller to let him walk. Then when we continued walking, he would cry and want to walk. Or would say he wanted a specific thing to eat but then didn’t want it as soon as you gave it to him) and was just generally unpleasant and exhausting. FIVE DAYS. I think Day Five was the peak. He cried. I cried. It was awful, to put it mildly. I lost my calm and struggled all day to get it back. The only redeeming part to the day was our bedtime reconnect. I lay with him while he falls asleep every night and on days like these, cuddles go a long way toward my sanity restoration. He woke up the next morning, back to himself with only a few minor disagreements. The following day was great. I only wish I knew what caused this monumental meltdown so that I could try to overcome it in the future with a better understanding of what I was dealing with. He said nothing hurt. He wasn’t sick. He was just in a mood. A terrible, terrible one. It takes a lot to break me, but I assure you, by the end of day four and the entire day five, I was done. I had nothing left. I couldn’t even give him a good explanation when I was crying and he said, “Mama sad.” Once I gathered myself a bit, I did tell him that I was frustrated and that sometimes I cry when I’m frustrated. That was the best I could do in that moment. I felt like a failure. I detest people who give the useless, “Enjoy every minute of it,” advice. No one enjoys every minute of it. No one. It’s impossible to enjoy being overwhelmed, touched out, and feeling helpless and wanting nothing more than five minutes of peace. However, when we finally ride the roller coaster back down the hill and return to our land of normal, I can appreciate all the “hug me” requests and tolerate the “Mama, come here,” demands. I know that one day those hugs will come with only one arm, he won’t need me to help him open, fix, or play with his toys, he won’t want me to snuggle him to sleep, he’ll be too cool to kiss his mother, and “Mama” and “Mommy” will change to just, “Mom.” Those really, really hard days sure help to shed some sunshine on the good ones, that’s for sure.  

He says, “Hug you,” when he wants me to give him a hug 🥰.

This is how he falls asleep most days ❤️. 

I’ve been feeling like the days are very long and hadn’t put much thought into why until my mother-in-law asked if I missed going to the market. Even though it was only one day, it was something to break up the monotony of the week. While we’re still being cautious, I have started to venture out when needed, although limiting any indoor outings to being as brief as possible and preferably at low crowd times. Quinn is usually compliant at wearing his mask, at least for short amounts of time. He hasn’t been in stores for months now so that made life a little more difficult, planning groceries around pick up orders or Philip’s work schedule. Considering his lack of exposure to public places, I hope that one day, when life is normal, Quinn will learn how to behave when we’re out. He’s pretty good so far but he’s not allowed to leave the cart. I don’t care about public embarrassment around toddler meltdowns, thankfully, because I’m sure there will come a day. He has never eaten at a sit-down restaurant that wasn’t fast food. Lots of leeway should be given to parents of young children during this time as some will be learning niceties a little later in the game. 

By the way, he picked out his own outfit and I didn’t let myself make him change. See how strong I am? 😂

I woke up before Quinn from our nap the other day and was thinking about how I wasn’t properly prepared for this stage of parenthood. So I decided to write an ad to see if parenting a two year old would appeal to any of you non parents. Here goes: 

Do you like power struggles and repeating yourself 465 times a day? Or listening to someone else repeat themselves 50 times per one request? 

How about cleaning up the same shit over and over again? How do you feel about being bossed around by a tiny human? Interested? Do you get lonely while using the bathroom and would like someone to talk to? Do you like listening to whining over such mundane things as wanting you to help take their shirt off while you’re doing the dishes? Let’s not forget about sleep; does being anchored by a sweaty little human who sleeps in just the right position so as to take up the most space possible sound like a good time? If you answered yes to the majority of these questions, I’ve got just the job for you! 

If you like any of that, then all the good shit will just be icing on the cake 🤪. 

Not only does he take up all the room, now we have to accommodate Damon, his doll, too 😂. I guess this is giving me a preview of my life in the not so distant future. 

Anyway, on a positive note, Quinn continues to surprise me with the things he thinks and says. He woke up one morning and the first thing he said was, “I want chocolate!” 🙄 A few days later he told me, “Chips,” when I asked what he wanted to eat. I replied, “For breakfast?!” He then told me, “Go ahead and get some now.” 🙄 Sure thing, I’ll get right on that, boss 🙄🙄🙄. The cooler morning weather hasn’t changed his desire to never wear clothes and he tries to go outside in just his diaper, pretty much every day. When I tell him he has to put clothes on, he argues, “Outside naked.” 🤦🏻‍♀️😂 His back seat driving has evolved, and he notices every traffic light, narrating, “Red now,” or “Green now. Go.” When I tell him I can’t because there are people in front of me, he says, “Move people! Go real fast!” 🤣 I agree 😉. He really has his colors down and likes to assign them to us on our nightly walk, as we get close to where he’s allowed to ride on Philip’s shoulders for a “horse ride.” Typically, Philip is a yellow horse, sometimes I’m purple, and Sansa and Sophie are almost always black. We have no idea how this system is configured 😂. His dad taught him where his Adam’s apple is located, and he enjoys finding it on himself and others. He insists on throwing my head back and touching my throat to identify, “Mama apple,” even though I’ve told him most girls don’t have apples. He was pushing Sansa’s chin up the other day and when I told him to stop and be nice to Sansa, he showed me where her “apple” is 🤦🏻‍♀️.  Having heard not much else during Five Days of Hell, he now threatens himself with time out. I told him he needed to clean up his play dough before he got out a new toy and he refused. Before I even got the chance, he said, “Time out.” I asked if he needed to go in time out and he said, “No. Clean up,” and then went over and cleaned it up 😂😂😂. Oh man, if only….

He has encroached even further into my personal space as I can no longer bathe alone. On days when I don’t feel like washing my hair, I will just take a quick a bath to wash off, but I can’t do it alone. Quinn will strip faster than I can say, “No,” and get his little naked ass into the tub 🤦🏻‍♀️. I tried to be sneaky one day; I got him settled on the couch, watching a dinosaur show, closed the door but didn’t latch it, and started my water. I no more than got in the tub and he came bursting through the door, completely naked and got in. I asked where his diaper was and he said, “Living room.” He likes to argue with me, saying, “Quinn bath.” I retort with, “Mama’s bath,” and we go back and forth. He then takes it up a notch and says, “I said, Quinn bath!” 🙄🤦🏻‍♀️😂 He’s such a shit. That’s not the only thing he argues about, often saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” or “No, no, no” to, well, anything I tell him to do basically. Philip sometimes hears these exchanges when he’s downstairs and asks about them. I’ll be like, “Oh, he didn’t want to get his diaper changed,” or something equally as tedious. He has learned the occasions that require his acknowledgment of compliance and when he asks for certain things, he automatically tells me, “Good boy,” giving his consent 😂. He really likes to play with different sensory materials, but he also likes to test his mother’s patience by putting said materials in his mouth, which gets them taken away. One of these is the lentils box that he uses to scoop and move with his construction vehicles. He’ll say, “Mama, lentils. Good boy.” 🤣 I never fully believe him, but I always let him try. He has gotten better about not putting them in his mouth, considering I’ve taken them away from him for that exact reason about 984 times now 🙄, but still tests me occasionally. 

He loves taking a bath so much that I thought he would like giving his animals one, too. I got a new head in the mail for my Burst toothbrush so I let him use the old one to scrub his toys. We also washed his pumpkin before painting it and he constantly tells me that he wants to “give pumpkin bath again.” 🤦🏻‍♀️

I think most of the above mentioned struggles wouldn’t be nearly as difficult if I wasn’t an emotional basket case from being pregnant. Pregnancy, to me, is mostly an inconvenience 😂. I can’t mow the yard anymore, I can’t ride my bike, I can’t lift heavy things (ok, maybe that’s a perk),  I’m fat (don’t even tell me it’s just the baby, blah, blah, blah), I’m always tired, and those last two things are only going to get worse. Blah. I have started to feel the bugger move, which is both creepy and reassuring at the same time. Two nights ago I felt a very forceful push from the inside while laying down for bed. He’s already trying to escape at only 17 weeks 🤦🏻‍♀️. Feeling him move does help make it feel more real. I know our last ultrasound showed everything to be growing correctly and the NIPT test, which revealed the gender and a low risk for genetic disorders, gave us some reassurance, but pregnancy after miscarriage is different than one without that prior experience. I’ve not allowed myself to get attached in any way and wasn’t sure when I would feel like it was actually going to happen. My next appointment will go a long way toward easing those feelings of doubt though because it’s an hour long ultrasound where every body part will be measured. It does feel more real now but I think until he’s born, I may have a small seed of doubt in the back of mind that everything will work out. And if you’re wondering, no, we don’t have any names picked out yet 🤪.

I’m 18 weeks today and the Baby Center app told me the baby is the size of a bell pepper. I have two plants in my garden still, full of babies; how am I going to eat them now?! 😜

My other children are good. Soph has been a grump ass toward Quinn lately, for some reason. She’ll give him all the kisses she wants but if he tries to pet her, she growls like a jerk 🙄. She enjoys seeing her friends on our nightly walks though, and that’s something they have in common. 

All of them enjoy my homemade treats 😂😉.

Poor thing never gets enough attention 🙄

Ever. 

🤦🏻‍♀️😂.
Luckily, Sansa tolerates his lovins well. 


We got to see Philip’s brother and family for the first time in months a few weekends ago and I’m happy to report that Quinn has indeed grown:

He’s finally taller than their dog, Dexter 😂.