The NOT so incredible stuff.

Wells, it's not always sunshine and butterflies in our little cottage here in the forest. No. Some days it's more like a zoo... on a hot day... with 150% humidity... and little gnats buzzing in your ears. Today, was that day. I don't know... I really wanted today to be James' special day with me. The last two days I've been preoccupied with cleaning/house selling stuff to really devote my time teaching and engaging James. To top it all off, yesterday night was Marcus' weekly softball night. That basically means I am a single mother for nearly 48+ hours. So perhaps all of those things combined made for a tedious day to say the least.

I was hoping to let James paint on his easel outside and set up his bebe pool for some summer swimmin'. Yeah, didn't happen. BUT let me tell you what did happen...

*think previously mentioned zoo reference*
We started the morning off with James 'cooking' with his milk from his sippy in his room at his play kitchen. He successfully dosed his kitchen, 98% of the felt food I had made for him, and the floor with milk. Where was I? Taking about 7 minutes to make my coffee. *That's a critical time period for me. If I can drink my coffee before any major drama happens in my day- then I am gravy. BUT if something happens before I get my 'fix,' I feel like I mine as well jump off a cliff.

Round two. James pooped a bit in his diaper, and played in it. *clean up, frustration, clean up.

Round three. James went down for his nap. Five minutes later started screaming, "I poo poo potty, Momma!" So I run at break.neck speed in there to *whisk* him into the bathroom--- notice the word choice 'wisk.' You'd have to be a flippin heavy weight champion to actually use that word correctly here. Lifting my 48 lb. kid is getting harder and harder every day. Trying to heave him up and clear his crib rails makes me want to hire a live-in chiropractor. I feel like a little terrier momma dog- that has a lab mix puppy child. I'm just not proportional to my offspring. Heck, my bebe! *Back to what I was saying, we get to the potty and he started charming me again. I've noticed lately James will use the 'I go poo poo potty' trick to gain more time outside of napping. He perches on top of the potty and entertains, sings, talks about family, politics, and religion. I get tired of waiting for the poop to come, the tile floor gets colder, then the guilt sets in after telling him to hurry up and potty or get down. *redress him for the second time for nap...

Round four. Goes to sleep... quietly. A little sound here. A sigh there. Followed by more silence. I think I'm golden and even contemplate a nap for me when I hear applause coming from the bedroom. THE MONKEY STRIKES AGAIN! Except this time, there was the full firework show. It's like he's fascinated with manufacturing his own artistic medium at will! Seriously. He must think, 'Hmmm, I'm a little bored. Hey, I know. Lets get creative... wait, I'm confined to my crib. Oh! Right. No prob. Bob, let me just pop a squat. Then my artist pallet will know no bounds!' *Sorry, perhaps the word choice was too vivid. But, we are talking toddlers and poop here. Anything less would have been almost patronizing.

Grrr. So, after three attempts with parenting through this poop situation, I realize that I probably didn't do a single thing right. I mean, if I was RIGHT there wouldn't have been a second and third fiasco. AND, I should add, that yesterday he transferred his poop to his train table and lead Thomas and his friends through a *muddy situation.* How's that for Troublesome trucks!?!?! *sigh*

Thankfully, he fell right asleep after the last escapade. Marcus called and heard the strain in my voice. I caved: "I'm cleaning up after you and James tirelessly... every idle second I'm wiping and dusting and putting things away... THREE poop fiascoes!? How am I suppose to sell a house that has a laundry pile the size of Mt. Helena with an odor rising from it that I swear is green. Visually green. Like I can see the wafts of stink rising in a green wave!" Poor Marcus. He must have felt sorry for me, bc he left work an hour and a half early to surprise me with some 'relief.'

The sun peaked through the clouds when Marcus *whisked* him away for a little Daddy time: McDonalds, barbershop, train store, park- them home again to a somewhat restored and smiling momma. *Yes, whisk is properly used when refering to Marcus and his feats of strength. And to add insult to injury, I needed a bit of a break from James--- but I hate being away from him. I hate missing out on our camaraderie... and inside jokes... and the doe eyes that we have for each other. Tomorrow night he stays with his MawMaw and Pops while Marcus treats me to my birthday weekend: Melting Pot, shopping, maybe a photo shoot downtown and the new green park and the Obama Campaign Headquarters... oh, and sleeping in. I know I shouldn't mind James spending time away from us. He is two and, nearly, a half! But I'm just a little out of sync when I'm not with him. 'Good' is the best we can have when our boy isn't with us. Our time away never really can grow to 'great' if he's not there step for step with us. I guess two years ago, we surrendered our extra measure of happiness to that wild child. Oh well, I suppose it is rightfully his. He's the third portion that completes us... so no weekend honeymoon or date night can ever truly be complete. *It's sweet that we are meshed so well together- but it's sort of frustrating, too.

So yeah, when you hear me say over and over again how motherhood is 'agonizingly fantastic.' Today proves that theory.

Happy Friday. Next week I'll be a 27 year old!!! Gosh, that stings a little. Maybe I'll post more about that later. I can still avoid fact for another day.

Peace, xo.