Sometimes when you have small children, you can go a little mad. Small children - sweet as they are - can get so annoying that you'd be forgiven for wishing that you had a long break from them.
A teething baby, however cute and regardless of how much he smiles, still has a tendency to wake up every hour-and-a-half. You know, that starts to get to you after a while. That said, you can be very forgiving of a baby. A baby is just a baby. A toddler, on the other hand...
Well, a toddler is a toddler. A toddler can be a quite engaging chap. A toddler - a bright one, anyway - can put together simple sentences. A toddler can answer questions. A toddler can get out some play dough, bring it across to you and plead, "Daddy make little balls please".
That might not impress you, but when said child didn't say much more than shouting "MORE!" at you for months on end, I guarantee that you'd find it extraordinary too.
Yet at the same time, this little person will refuse to tell you when he has soiled his pants, despite
a) him knowing full well what soiling one's pants means; and
b) producing such a god-awful stench from the trouser department that any denial is rendered superfluous.
The actual scenario does not worry me too much. I understand not wanting to admit that you have crapped in your pants again. I would imagine that it is a difficult thing to share with somebody. What I don't understand, and what I find most frustrating, is why this embarrassment translates into a supreme difficulty in getting that nappy off, wiping away the offensive substance, and then getting a fresh one on.
The best way that I can explain what exquisite torture changing Henry's nappy is at the moment is by sharing the fact that one looks forward to the trip to the laundry to scrub human faeces off the nappy to prepare it for soaking. At least the shit does not wriggle while you are scrubbing at it.
Then there are the tantrums, the constant destruction, the picky eating, the sticky fingers, the hidden caches of food, the contradictory impulses, the mixed messages, the common assaults, the cruel emotional judgements; life with a toddler can be like life with a bi-polar, menopausal invalid with learning difficulties.
With this in mind, you'd be forgiven for thinking that a time away from the gruesome twosome would be a blissful respite from the tempest that home life tends to be at the moment.
But oddly it isn't. All you can do is think about Henry's sad little eyes as you waved goodbye to him, Ezra's tired face as you stepped out to the plane and the lovely Jennifer, who be left alone to manage two very strong-willed future superstars while I have to be in a place as abominable as Sydney.
Who would believe me when I say that the absence of the pugnacious pair would result in a hole in the heart (that goes all the way the Chinatown)?
Comments
Hope you don't miss them too much and always keep in mind that all things come to pass!
I have to wonder why people have kids sometimes. I tend to see the negative rather than the positive when it comes to the little buggers.
bless you parents for having kids though, and bringing them up well!
Blackie, Henry poo'd (sp?) in the bath once with Jen. A floating toxic yellow beast. How we (I) laughed...
Sue, it's horrid, isn't it?
Kitty, don't worry, sometimes I wonder the very same thing...