Two is Hard

Two is hard.

Last night, Eliot walked around the house with a plastic $5 Cars kite still tucked away in its package, unopened.

"Help me, please?  Kite, please?  Help me?" he pleaded so soft and sweet.

It was 9:00 pm, close to bedtime.  There was no wind out.  It was dark.  I didn't know how in the world we could make a kite work.

"Oh, Eliot," I said.  "I am so sorry, but we can't play with this today.  It's night; this toy is for a windy day.  Some day this week if it is windy, I promise."

Toddlers can't understand "windy" or "next week" and maybe even struggle to understand night versus day.  I couldn't get through to him.  "Please?" he asked again so nicely.  It broke my heart because he was being so polite, but I just couldn't turn it into day.  He asked Chris next, then me again, and that's when the tears started.  He wasn't throwing himself on the floor or screaming, just crying while asking, "Help me, please?"

When I thought he wasn't looking enough, I tossed the kite into the garage to get it off his mind.  He saw me.  He cried more.  I held him, told him how sorry I was, and put on a movie.

Maybe I should have opened the kite anyway just to make him happy.  I didn't want the string to get all tangled and ruin it--then we really wouldn't be able to play with it on a windy day.  And as weird as this sounds, my cat is crazy about eating and destroying string, so I worried she would mess it up in the meantime.

Two is hard.

But, this all came at the end of a rough day.  I felt like I was using my "mom voice" all day because Eliot was having fun, but would push it too far.  Exploring the gardens?  Sure!  But stop shaking that tree branch!  Want to play in the sandbox?  Great idea!  No, I meant your sandbox!  Not my flower boxes!  And now there is dirt on your head....  Want to run around the yard?  Awesome!  Wait, don't crawl under the deck--and now you're stuck! 

Two is hard.

After Eliot's nap, we decided to go out to dinner (ha) because we hadn't been since our rabbit died two weeks ago.  I gave Eliot a snack before we left so he wouldn't be too hungry, but still hungry enough to want to eat.  I hyped up eating the whole drive and Eliot kept telling us all the food he was going to eat.  I brought the iPad, a coloring book that he had been using just before we left, and markers.  We had this.  No, we didn't.  About five minutes after our food arrived, we knew we just couldn't do it anymore.  We had it boxed up and left.  Eliot just kept demanding to run around, wouldn't stay in the booth, and wouldn't eat.  Of course, when we got home, though, he sat at his table and ate almost the whole meal.

Two is hard.  I feel like I keep losing more and more parts of my life.  Shopping is difficult and must be done quickly, so we usually don't shop with Eliot.  Restaurants are pretty much out, so we try to do something fast but not fastfood, like Q'doba.  If we really want a specific restaurant, we do carry out.  I mean, we used to only eat out once a week, so it isn't a huge sacrifice, but it was something we looked forward to and enjoyed.  And let's not even get started on sleep....  I have given everything in me to Eliot for sleep, and I am at an utter loss--and I am tired.

I sound like the biggest whiner.  I love, love, love having Eliot, and I wouldn't trade our challenges for anything.  He's learning, growing, and becoming an individual.  Each phase has its challenges, and I think this has been the hardest when really Eliot is so good compared to how he could be.  The kid doesn't want to sit still at restaurants?  Surprise, surprise...  He doesn't understand when he can't have something?  Of course not!  He pushes every "fun" thing a little too far because he doesn't know the boundaries (because he hasn't learned them yet) and he is enjoying life?  Sounds like a good problem to me.  He tells me "bye-bye, Ma," or "go away, Ma" when he is doing something he knows I don't want him to?  Smart kid, I'd say.

I can't expect him to act like a little adult or even a "disciplined, well-behaved" child because he isn't even a child yet.  He's a toddler.  He's learning.  We're setting the foundation for that well-behaved child, and we'll get there eventually.  Good foundations are always difficult to build.