Of Course My Kids Are Perfect

I’ve been so busy running my mouth about writing and finding your identity in motherhood, not to mention the general mish-mosh stewing in my brain, that I haven’t said much about my kids lately.  You were beginning to think they were perfect, weren’t you?  Well, you’d almost be right.  They are occupied with their still-new-and-exciting Christmas toys, the cold weather is an invitation for all low energy activities, and my winter born children are far away from the half-birthday disequilibrium (as set forth by the amazing Louise Bates Ames) as possible.  It’s been as if my kids have transformed into real-life angels left over from the holiday season.

Until my daughter decided it was high time to raise some hell.

I don’t know if little C was just sick of the quiet or if she had been reading my blog and noticed she was not featured as prominently as her more challenging brother.  Either way, she decided to kick things into high gear this week.  “What’s high gear,” you ask?  “Where do I start?,” I respond.

1.  Coloring.  What’s wrong with this you might wonder.  Or maybe you had an ink-obsessed almost two-year-old of your own and you feel my pain.  She colors everywhere. And I’m not talking the walls  No, no!  Semi-gloss paint?  That would be too easy!  Mom could wipe that shit right off.  Instead, she prefers dry erase marker on grout, pen on leather couch, and crayon on wood.

Wood, as in, my husband’s guitar.

2.  Spinning.  No, she has no interest in the latest fitness craze, she is simply obsessed with running around in small circles to the point of fall-flat-on-your-face vertigo.  Her favorite places to practice include (but are not limited to): busy street corners where we are stopped waiting for the light, right in front of Gavin’s school where the administrators are taking notes on her admission worthiness, and Chipotle during peak dinner rush.  Have you ever noticed that the floors in all Chipotles are exposed concrete?  *shudders with horror*

3.  Dramatics.  I won’t call them tantrums because Chloe has far too much personality to sign up for the pedestrian terrible twos.  She’s just doing everything with a little more flair.  Like this sequence that captures her asking for an orange.  After throwing herself on the floor.

I need this orange NOOOOOW

I said now, so why is it still in my hand!?!?! Are you going to peel it by looking at it?

Orange you glad I am so darn bubbly and cute?

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About Carinn Jade

Mother, lawyer, yogi, writer, non-sleeper. Published @NYTMotherlode. Contributor @Mommyish @Moonfrye @HuffPostLive. I like beer (not wine) & tea (not coffee) & being a contrarian.
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