Two Year Olds 

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Usually I like to take some time to think up a catchy blog title but anyone with children usually understand what a simple exasperated ‘Two Year Olds’ probably intones and it is usually followed by commiserating looks and murmurs and recollections of the terrible twos.

Finley was 2 in December and having a full blown tantrum has started to become an epic event. All at once funny, embarrassing and infuriating. Cohen wasn’t really a tantrum thrower, he was far more relaxed and had a limited vocabulary at this age, so in hindsight I see how spoilt I was the first time around.

Finley is making up for that in bucket loads.

So, yesterday I decided to stop at the beach on the way to pick up Cohen from kindergarten. Some lovely sea air and a walk was a nice easy way to tire out my youngest child who had already refused his nap. Our local beach is two minutes down the road from us and there are three car parking areas – a middle car park by the surf club and a car park at either end of the beach by the boatsheds on each side. Since it was on my way I decided to stop in the middle car park and give him the run around towards our boatshed at the other end. The whole time he made a beeline for that boatshed and our tractor (as pictured above) because honestly, what little boy doesn’t want to play on a tractor all day? After some convincing and going up and down a set of stairs 3 4 times we went back to the car and drove to collect Cohen. This is where it started to get interesting.

‘Do you want to go to the beach boys or go home?’

Chorus from the backseat ‘BEACH!’

Ok then, they both agree. Brilliant. Challenge #1: Getting them to agree to said destination/activity complete.

Since Finn had spent the entire time at the beach wanting to go to the boatshed I decided to just go straight there and park on the beach right outside. Makes sense right? Of course it does! Why walk 15 minutes to the boatshed when you can park right in front of it? So I pull up.

Tears. Instant. ‘No want this beach! Other beach! No want this one!’

‘Finley, this is the same beach. You wanted to go to the boatshed’

‘No want it!! No! Other park mummy! No want this one! No want this beach!’

‘Finley, don’t be silly. We are at the beach. You love the beach! Look, the tractor!’

I drag him out of the carseat kicking and screaming (seriously, kicking and screaming). What two year old doesn’t like the beach?!

Plonk. Face down in the sand. Muffled sobs and ‘No want this beach!’ omit from child. Get out second child who is happy as larry to be at the beach and wants to get running to play on the rocks further down. I decide to take the ‘leave them and hope they follow’ approach. Get about 10 metres down the beach. Child has not followed and is wailing louder. Turn and go back.

Now, this is the time to note that there were other people in these boatsheds watching with great amusement. They know my husband so I am pretty sure this will get around and become a great joke. One of the guys actually came down and offered me some chocolate bars for the boys, trying to help (bless him) and commented that F was a feisty one. Yep. So I was very conscious of the fact that we were actually the main show brightening up their quiet afternoon.

After 10 minutes of this I decided, right, that’s it! He wanted to go home and so while going home is usually the punishment, at this point it was giving in. Two can play this game. So I hefted him up under my arm like a football and carried him down the beach. By this point, people were making no attempt to hide their entertainment and were openly standing at the doors of their boatsheds watching the show with big grins on their faces. I kid you not. So I carry him down the beach still crying and say ‘I know Finn! Why don’t you jump in this puddle! You love puddles!’ and put him down.

PLONK. Face down in puddle. ‘No want puddle! No want it!!’

So now I have a soaking wet sand covered child screaming instead of just a screaming child. Great. He then gets up and stalks back to the car where he then lies flat on the sand like a plank, face down in silent protest.

At this point with echoes of laughter (not mine) I decide that it is time to go home. Fighting with a stubborn two year old for 30 minutes in front of an audience is not my cup of tea and in the end his ability to remain stubborn bet out my ability to fight him. And I was by then in desperate need of a coffee. A strong one.

And all because I parked in the wrong place.

Two year olds!

What irrational moments has your child had lately or what is one that stands out as memorable?

Linking up with EssentiallyJess and doing IBOT for the first time. Thanks for popping by!

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One of those nights

All mums have had them. Those nights where you get barely any sleep (to give you an idea I just wrote barely bearly and then thought it looked a bit odd but then, that’s how scrambled my brain is this morning). You know how they always tell you when you have your first child that the second won’t be so easy? They gleefully rub their hands together and say how lucky you are to have such a placid wee soul and how lovely it must be to have a baby who sleeps and doesn’t really do tantrums but ‘the next one probably won’t be so easy! Mark my words!’ This said with the slight manic giggle of someone who has multiple children who are driving them quite literally insane and can’t wait for someone else to join the club. Well, I am joining the club! Because my second is a Hayden baby. What is a Hayden baby you ask? Well, my husband is named Hayden and he was a nightmare child. He cried till he could walk and when he could walk he ran. And he didn’t sleep. Sleep is overrated. And he was just a tad hyper (ok, maybe a lot hyper). It’s a running joke in the family that at least we didn’t get a Hayden baby! Hmph. I love to remind him of this now that we have our very own Hayden baby!

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This child. Finley. Butter wouldn’t melt right? Don’t be fooled!

He started off more of a Cohen baby, nice and settled, slept well, slept through, breastfed no problem … it’s only in the last 6 months that we have come to realise that this little man is going to keep us on our toes and turn us grey (ok, so I MAY already have a few grey hairs but I swear he is making me go greyer) and he will turn me into a coffee addict in no time at all! Oh, wait. Make that a wine addict. Actually, any kind of alcohol will do.

Take last night for example (and the night before, and the night before that). He has decided that he rather enjoys cuddles in mummy and daddy’s bed at night. Not just at the beginning of the night, but in the middle of the night, early morning, he’s really not fussy! What child wouldn’t love snuggles in the night. Why sleep in your own cot when you can cry hysterically and climb into bed with mummy and be cuddled to sleep! He shares a room with his brother so I am limited to what I can do about it as I can’t really leave an hysterically crying baby when I have another child in the room trying to sleep. So up he gets and into my bed to be cuddled to sleep. Basically, he gets exactly what he wanted. The little tyke is playing us. The trouble is, he’s winning!

So, 10pm just as I was drifting off to sleep. Grizzle. Silence (don’t move just in case he senses it). Grizzle. Wah. Wah. Waaaah. WAHHHHH! Crap. So up I get, bring him in and cuddle him to sleep. Get up, put him back to bed. 5 minutes later. Wah. WAH. Up again, bring him back to bed. Hayden gets up and goes to the couch to sleep (keep in mind we both have work today!). This time it’s not so easy to get him to sleep. We have grizzles and wriggles and kicking and squirming and crying for an hour or so. FINALLY, we both fall asleep and I transfer him back to bed about 2am. Back to my bed. Blissful sleep at last. Feel like someone is watching me. Open my eyes to a small person standing next to my head. ‘Hello mummy, what are you doing?’. Cohen. 3.30am. Drag him into our bed. Vaguely sense that he has got back up and grabbed my phone and come back to bed with it. Hear his game start up (he has puzzles on my phone that he is suddenly obsessed with). Too tired to care. Go back to sleep. Wake up. Panic. Realise said child with phone has turned off the alarms! Launch out of bed and realise that I forgot to put pillowcases on our pillows two days ago. What?! Who does that? And how did I not even notice?!

I’m now at work. Second coffee in hand. About to get a third. Probably had about 3 hours broken sleep last night to go with my 4 hours the night before. He’s lucky he’s cute! And he’s lucky we have a coffee machine at work. My workmates aren’t lucky because I will probably be cranky and snappy and they will probably get the brunt of it. Lucky we have a coffee machine at work. And a bar upstairs.