My ever-changing morning routine
If there’s anything that is constantly amazing me about having kids, it’s that things never stop changing and evolving — things they do, things you do, routines to adjust.
When the toddler was a month or two old, I would shower and do my makeup while he sat in his bouncy seat (or carseat) in the bathroom. It was awesome when he got the hiccups, because then I didn’t feel the need to whip around the shower curtain and check on him every two seconds.
When he started crawling, I made a new plan and would set him down the hall from the bathroom, and rush through my makeup/tooth-brushing while he slowly ambled down the hall towards me.
When his crawling got too fast, I started sticking him in the (empty) tub while I got myself ready, and he’d play with bath toys. Then he graduated to climbing in and out of the tub on his own (which kept him occupied, so, cool).
Now, at 16 months? None of that will work anymore. However, the Toddler of Terror now loves really participating with me as I get ready in the morning.
- He loves getting in the shower with me — which is definitely not awesome when I need to wash my hair, and two hands would be nice.
- He is obsessed with sitting on the counter, brushing his teeth — always preferring MY brush to his own toddler-sized one. I think it’s the Colgate taste.
- We get dressed together. Often I get dressed first, while he runs around in my bathrobe (another thing he loves). Sometimes I also use this time to put away clean laundry.
- We comb out our wet hair together. He tries to help me put clips in mine.
- Then I usually sit in his room and put on my makeup, while he plays with the compacts and pretends to put it on himself — often just chewing on the powder puff thingy and the brushes.
While I rarely get to shower alone anymore (only on Darling Husband’s days off), it is nice to have a new getting-ready routine that works for us. He seems to be having a blast, I’m getting showered, dressed and ready. Everybody wins!
How do you juggle getting yourself ready in the morning?
Thankful
Today, on Thanksgiving, I am so thankful for my husband, our incredible son, and our families.
I am also thankful that in less than two weeks, we will be moving into our House of Dreams.
This time it’s official.
It’s a done deal.
We are so happy and blessed.
And thankful.
Who knew toddlers had fetishes?
If my toddler could type — type properly, that is (I think he believes he really can type) — he would probably have his own blog where he’d rave about the following …
Dishwashers. He freaking L-O-V-E-S them. He used to just play with them (and in them), but in the last month or two, he’s been learning how to empty them and put the dishes away. It’s hilarious* to watch him carefully gather up all the spoons, carry them across the kitchen, and drop them into the cultery drawer (which he can barely reach). Or stack the saucers into piles. Today he branched out and emptied the plasticware, and actually put it away in the general area it belongs. Genius!
Phones. My mom lets him play with her cordless phones. Her REAL, WORKING cordless phones. Yes, he has made calls. Yes, my mom has apologized to the operator. And the neighbours. And God knows who else that he’s called when I haven’t been around to witness it. When my mom is at work, sometimes the toddler cries and reaches for the phone. My response? NO. He’s a toy one. Some fetishes are not cool.
Brushing his teeth. Another big fetish. He loves brushing his teeth, but he mainly just loves playing with them. He has his own toothbrush and toddler-safe paste, but the kid is obsessed with MY toothbrush. When I bring him into the bathroom so I can pee, he yanks open the top drawer and roots around blindly (he’s way too short to see inside) until he finds MY purple and white toothbrush. Never Darling Husband’s. Never his own. MINE. It’s not that bad, really, until he walks over to the toilet with it. Then I’m on high alert.
Running water. This one is often connected to the tooth-brushing fetish. He loves sitting on the bathroom counter and turning the cold faucet on full-blast. He “brushes” (la la la I am brushing my teeeeef) and then holds the brush under the water, sucks the water off, and repeats. He will do this for an HOUR if you let him. I turn off the tap and he immediately wrenches it back on, full-blast. The little bastard is quite the water-waster.
Computers. Can’t blame him for this one, really, considering how much time Mommy spends typing. He loves banging on the keys, thinking he’s really typing. I think it’s the cutest, though, when he moves the mouse around with a self-important little expression. This fetish can be a huge pain in the butt, because it means constantly dragging the computer chair away from the desk. Seriously, if you are not sitting in the chair, it can’t be there. Because he will be on it, banging away on the keyboard. There have been incidents where I’m on the computer, and the toddler “lures” me away across the room, and then he immediately makes a beeline for the chair. Those are the days I feel dumb.
Cat food. When I was little, we had a family cat. I used to take its food and feed it to my baby sister (sorry, Little Sis). God is now punishing me for that, you see, because the toddler is obsessed with cat food — both playing with it and eating it. Darling Husband and I do not own a cat (I’m wicked-awful allergic), but my mom has two (and remember — we’re staying there temporarily until we buy another place). The toddler takes EXTREME delight in opening up bags of cat food, taking out kibbles, and arranging them on top of the tin of cat treats. I have no idea why. He probably doesn’t understand that kibbles and treats are not the same thing, and since he can’t open the tin, he tries to “help” by putting the kibble on top. But who understands toddlers, really?
*Note to readers who are not yet parents — yes, when you have kids, things like this ARE hilarious and also the CUTEST thing you have ever seen OMG let’s take 30 photos and several videos of it. And Tweet and blog about it. Hiiiiiii.
Musical plates
Just had a lovely lunch with Darling Husband and the Toddler of Terror. We ordered three meals, and I’m pretty sure no one ate anything off their own plate.
I ate Darling Husband’s chips.
Darling Husband ate my hot turkey sandwich.
The toddler ate my corn.
I ate the toddler’s chicken.
And so on …
In the end, every bite was gone, and we’d all enjoyed ourselves very much. It was just a strange way to get there.
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