Routine

So my toddler is struggling with this whole new baby thing. I mean, who wouldn't? He's been the top banana for two years, and does a damn good job of it! My Mr. M can turn on the charm in an instant, and have strangers fawning over him in no time. Infectious laugh, curly mop of hair, and a lilting little voice. Recently, I learned that he also has a vicious temper. Mess with his routine, and there will be hell to pay! Sadly, I did just that. How dare mommy have a baby? On top of that, how dare she have a c-section? That means FOUR NIGHTS away in the hospital (which sort of felt like a spa vacation, I must admit. It was so damn quiet at night!) He did fine while I was gone, but once I returned with Schmoopie Pants in tow, it was game on. Screaming, whining, tantrums galore. Every word out of his mouth was either "a-need!" or "a-want!" What did he want? Who knows! Do you want this? Or this? Or that? We were all tripping over each other to meet his needs. We'd ruined his little life, we had to make it better! Until my mother looked at me incredulously and said, "Why the hell are we asking him what he wants? He's TWO! He doesn't freaking know!" And there lies the truth. Two year olds don't know shit. They want to play with their toys, and eat snack, and go outside, and have a tubby every so often. A two year old is not a reliable source to get information from- "Did you poop?" "Nooooooh" and yet your nose hairs have just been singed off from the stink. "Did you make this mess?" "Noooooh" as you actually see the tube of toothpaste behind his back. We're the adults, dammit! And we'll be in charge here if it's the last thing we do! It's like when we go to the doctor- we want her to TELL us what the treatment will be for our random illness, not ask us what we want to do. I certainly don't pay my therapist, hair colorist, or stylist (ok I don't have a stylist, but I really needed a third in the list and having a stylist would be really, really cool- maybe I wouldn't look so frumpy) to explore what I want- they are the professionals, just do what is good for me!  Granted, if you have a crappy colorist or therapist maybe you shouldn't give them such carte blanche, but I have outstanding ones, so I listen to them. I haven't selected my own hair color in almost ten years. Not even for my wedding!

So we started using declarative sentences with Mr. M. It's time to clean up- you will eat dinner now, and other such strongly worded directives. You know what? It works. My kid is far more pleasant to deal with. He still has his moments, but I feel in control. We even have a schedule- TV time (or ass sow as he calls "a show"), snack, tub, bed, etc. I am waiting to see nap time, mani/pedi time, or pinot time make their way on there, but a girl can dream.

For now, I'm ok with pretending that I'm in charge. We all know that's not the case, but I'm trying.