My constant buddy
Syddo and I have been hanging out together pretty much nonstop since last Sunday, and I have to say, I don't think I have been the best of company. First, I am highly distractable--I like cheese where did I put that thing oh it's in the kitchen wow this room is dirty why did I come in here? OH! Look! Cheese-- and Syd finds that highly annoying. I know because she starts doing things she knows not to do-- like pinching the dog-- so that she gets my negative attention. Second, I am really tired of staying indoors, where it is relatively cool, and watching movies, which are exceedingly boring. My brain can no longer tolerate another moment of Beauty and the Beast-- whose title I cannot simply say but rather must SING when I type it. I have watched that movie so many times, I am infuriated with my own inability to memorize the lines to the Gaston song.
I hate watching the movie but my constant buddy wants me on the couch, next to her, so I sit. Reading magazines. The newspaper. Looking at pictures. And then I hear the dog yelp and I know I haven't paid enough attention to my constant buddy.
If I go into the bathroom, my constant buddy goes too, and sits on her potty chair while I sit on the big one. Or she'll insist on sitting on my lap. And here I used to complain about the dog coming in and staring at me while I did my business. It was unsettling having him sit there, smiling, so totally entertained by my discomfort at his gaze.
Ahhh, what I wouldn't give for such silent company now. How delightful it would be to sit in peace under that blank canine stare and not have to jump up midstream to stop a toddler from t.p.ing the bathroom, or using Ben Gay as toothpaste.
Sydney has taken to falling asleep in my bed, which is wonderful and exhausting all at the same time. Time changes a person, and my sweet girl morphs from a freshly-bathed, Dora-jammied, snuggly Syd huddled against me as we read Stellaluna, into to a hot foot in the middle of my back, flip-floppy three year-old who is trying to take over the bed. When I scoot her over, she flops back. When I gently carry her to her room, and she finds her way back into mine an hour later.
In the morning she tells me it is not wake-up time yet and that I must get back into bed, but first get her some milk. I snuggle next to her and she squeels, "Peee-ewwww!" She tells me I have Stinky Cheese Man breath.
Such love.
Admittedly, I have moments of needing my privacy, of wanting to just have a moment all to myself; in those times I remember both of the boys each going through a phase of needing me ALL THE TIME. And I remind my sleep-deprived self that the sweetness of her mommy love won't last forever. In fact, in retrospect, these days are far too short.
I arrive at work, coffee in hand, ready for ME TIME. And by lunchtime I find I am missing my constant companion.
I hate watching the movie but my constant buddy wants me on the couch, next to her, so I sit. Reading magazines. The newspaper. Looking at pictures. And then I hear the dog yelp and I know I haven't paid enough attention to my constant buddy.
If I go into the bathroom, my constant buddy goes too, and sits on her potty chair while I sit on the big one. Or she'll insist on sitting on my lap. And here I used to complain about the dog coming in and staring at me while I did my business. It was unsettling having him sit there, smiling, so totally entertained by my discomfort at his gaze.
Ahhh, what I wouldn't give for such silent company now. How delightful it would be to sit in peace under that blank canine stare and not have to jump up midstream to stop a toddler from t.p.ing the bathroom, or using Ben Gay as toothpaste.
Sydney has taken to falling asleep in my bed, which is wonderful and exhausting all at the same time. Time changes a person, and my sweet girl morphs from a freshly-bathed, Dora-jammied, snuggly Syd huddled against me as we read Stellaluna, into to a hot foot in the middle of my back, flip-floppy three year-old who is trying to take over the bed. When I scoot her over, she flops back. When I gently carry her to her room, and she finds her way back into mine an hour later.
In the morning she tells me it is not wake-up time yet and that I must get back into bed, but first get her some milk. I snuggle next to her and she squeels, "Peee-ewwww!" She tells me I have Stinky Cheese Man breath.
Such love.
Admittedly, I have moments of needing my privacy, of wanting to just have a moment all to myself; in those times I remember both of the boys each going through a phase of needing me ALL THE TIME. And I remind my sleep-deprived self that the sweetness of her mommy love won't last forever. In fact, in retrospect, these days are far too short.
I arrive at work, coffee in hand, ready for ME TIME. And by lunchtime I find I am missing my constant companion.
