Toddlers are still Assholes

So Tuesday afternoon's karate class was a complete disaster. Mr Kinser, my Jujitsu instructor, was subbing in for Mr. Stillwell, while he and his wife went to a baseball game for her birthday. There was a new student in Minion's class. She is quite a bit older than him... maybe 7 or 8, and has a teenage sister who had been a student of Mr Stillwell's in the past. She wasn't just happy or excited to be there... she was giddy.  She bounced in place clapping and giggling with the energy of a dozen Jack Russle Terrier Puppies radiating off of her.

It was contagious. Minion was hopelessly unfocused before class ever started. 2 other little boys showed up and they were relatively clam and focused. The girl kept getting out of line, but a word or two from Mr. Kinser and she'd snap back into proper behavior. Not my boy, however. As soon as she acted goofy, he had to one up her, and no words were going to pull him back in line that day. While concepts were being explained, he'd wonder off to play with the punching bag.  While students were practicing kicks, he was rolling around on the floor.  This was the least cooperative I had ever seen him in class.  He was being a little asshole to MY instructor. It was mortifying.

Well see how this afternoon goes.

Today he told me, "When you fall down you do it on the mat so you don't break your head." Wise words, little man, wise words.  I did explain to him that practicing on the mat, to keep your head safe when you fall, is so that when you DO fall when there isn't a mat, you do it right so that you won't break your head.

I let him use gardening shears to prune our fence line today, until it started raining on us.

Do larks really look happier than other birds?

Nugget is still less interesting to talk about.  He ate strawberry puree. He pooped. He played with a big plastic ring. His ear infection doesn't seem to concern him one little bit. Happy as a lark.

So far, the first week of Economics class seems to be off to a good enough start. No news there, really.  I aught to be working on my first paper for that class, or prepping for my quiz instead of blogging, but... screw that. I wanna get a blog post up, so here I am.

You don't here me talk politics very much...  and you probably won't going forward. It's not my thing. I am generally in agreement with the late great Douglas Adams; anyone capable of being elected into office should never be entrusted with the job.  I have lost all respect for politicians and the politcal process. I consider myself a fiscal conservative and a social liberal; like the Koch brothers.  Unlike them, I am unwilling to support bat-shit crazy candidates who oppose my social views in order to elect the people who support my fiscal views.

So far in this election the only candidate I have any actual respect for is Bernie Sanders, because he has zero interest in talking about other candidates, and wants to focus on policies and issues.  He's not out fundraising, he's out campaigning on his policies.  I don't agree with all of them. But it has been refreshing to see someone who has dropped the rhetoric and mudslinging down to normal human levels and talks about issues when running for office.

I have some other things to discuss, like my weight, gut issues, pooping... Potty training toddlers...  "What to do around Kansas City" ... Ya know, stuff.

But it sounds from here like nap time is over for both of the little ones... so that will all have to be in another post or two.

Why is it possible to be stopped up and have a runny nose at the same time? The sore throat and dry-but-phlegm-producing cough are getting pretty old too. Is it feed a cold and starve the flu or feed the flu and starve a cold-oh wait... I last ate 12 days ago and wont eat anything I can chew again for  10 more days yet... then I can try a soft-cooked egg, non-fat refried beans, or cottage cheese. Hmm, chewing there is still optional... lets look further ahead. In 18 days I can begin trying to work foods I would chew back into my diet.  I should mark my calendar.

Meanwhile, I think my 2 year old is trying to skip meals now because Daddy isn't eating. But buddy-boy, how am I supposed to live vicariously through you if neither of us are eating?  I think I'm going to go play some pac-man.

A long night.

My two year old refuses to sleep. We let him stay up a half hour past bedtime. We put him to bed and tuck him in. Ten minutes later he's laying at the edge of the hallway staring at us in the living room. Send him back to bed... and again... and again.  An hour and a half after our initial attempt at bedtime he lets me know he's pooped his diaper and needs a new one. An hour after that I find he's snuck into another room to play on the tablet Beeba and Papa got him for Christmas.  (The fact that my two year old got a tablet before I did could be the topic of a separate blog post sometime.) Back to bed and lock the tablet away. 11:30 at night he's up again, telling me his room is scary.

Behold the dreaded FireMonkey

!

"Your bedroom is scary?"
"Uh-huh"
"Why is your bedroom scary?"
"Fire-Monkey is scary, dada."
It took me a moment to remember that "Fire-Monkey" is his name for the humidifier in his room. Okay, perhaps a monkey with steam billowing from the top of his skull watching over you as you slumber might be unsettling, maybe. I go and show him how to turn the humidifier on and off, ask him if he wants it off tonight, and we leave him vaporless, pile blankies on the boy... again, wish him good night... again, and go back to hacking away at the interwebs for about another hour. I'm wrapping up and have heard not a yip from my son since we extinguished his monkey, I briefly considered that mayhap our issues had been resolved and he had drifted off to slumberland following my last intervention. Alas, as I headed to the restroom for my bedtime preparations, I realized things were amiss. The boy's bedroom door was ajar. I peeked in to find him absent from his "big-boy-bed." He wasn't playing in the bathroom, hadn't padfooted past me into the livingroom or guest room. There has been times where he as attempted to sneak into my wife's and my bedroom to sleep on the floor next to our bed, so I check there next... and the little cuss didn't settle for the floor...

No. He hauled his little ass up into our bed and nestled down into my spot! If I wake him, we might just go all night without any sleep! Well, at least he's unlikely to crap the bed since he just let loose a couple hours ago. I go pass out in the arm-chair in the corner. Toddlers are Assholes, but adorable assholes.

As cute as my kids are, and as biased as I am, the Cutest Toddler of the Day award would have to have been given to the 3 year old who's conversation with his father I overheard in a public restroom today.
"Gee Willikers!"
"Really? 'Gee Willikers'?"
"It means 'Wahoo!'"
"Wahoo?"
"Uh-huh, 'Gee Willikers' means 'Wahoo' in Spanish."
Aaaand I try to stifle a chuckle.

That was while I was on a 15 minute break at work... you want to know what no one needs to hear the moment they return to their department after a brief break like mine? "Oh thank Jesus you're back!" Yeah, I was nearly ready to about-face as soon as that left the mouth of my co-worker. Turns out he was just less than half competent and I could clean up his mess in about 60 seconds. It's not his fault he was incompetent, he hasn't been trained to work in my department, but they botched the break schedule and they needed a warm body to stand in for me, and Jordan got the short straw.

Toddlers are Assholes

It's become a mantra in our household... we try not to let the toddler hear us say that.

Crying w/o cause @ 2013 Ren-Fest

Today, my older boy shoulder rammed his mother and infant brother while she was trying to pick the little one up off the floor; told his mommy that she can not turn off the television because it is his, from his time-out spot; swiped and hid a glass ornament from mommy's nightstand, while he was supposed to be napping in his room; TPed his room, while he was supposed to be napping; and hammer-fisted the baby's face without preamble or cause.

I could tell you all about how awful my day at work was, what with this season being eight to ten fold busier than any other time of year, and myself the only veteran employee while we understaffed the department by 60 man-hours/week according to company payroll planing metrics, but it seems insignificant when compared against the struggle of surviving a malevolent, attention seeking two-and-a-half year old boy.

It is my belief that my darling angel of a child is not engaging in this rage-inducing behavior without impetus, but is rather is acting out in ways that garners our immediate attention because he is not entirely adjusted to sharing our time and energy with his baby brother.  Though I empathize with his new plight, I can neither excuse away nor condone improper behavior, especially when it is violence towards his defenseless sibling. I need to be sure he gets a fair amount of attention, with the understanding that "fair" is not defined the same as "equal;" that he learns acceptable ways to communicate when he need more attention; and how to cope with times when he will have to wait for our attention.

When you are a two-year-old you are the only important person.  You have only a vague, fuzzy concept of empathy if any at all. Hedonism is the primary mindset; if it feels good to me, it is right for me. If I want it, there is no reason I should not be able to have it, regardless of what "it" is.  Enlightenment and oneness are a long way off for a two-year-old. Until my boys learn to either respect others, or to act like they do because it makes their parents happy, my wife and I will continue our mantra: Toddlers are assholes!