Terrible almost twos

Sixteen months and 5 days. That is how long I lasted with the two most perfect babies on the planet. On the 16th month +6 days, the perfectness came crashing down. At least 1/2 of it.

From the moment of their birth, I've known that William would be the one to push the boundaries. He's been chewing furniture since 6 months old, pulling on computer cords since he could make a fist (always), climbing on the couch for months now.

With climbing came standing up on the furniture and diving off of it. So the 1st two rules we've taught are "stay on your bottom" and "get off feet first". He's got both down like a champ. And he's really good at following the feet first (after a few head-first dives resulting in scrapes, bumps and bruises). But it is with great delight that he chooses to disobey on the sitting. Beyond just the fact that I don't want kids who stand on furniture, when he stands up on the loveseat, he's apt to stumble over the back onto the kitchen tile. When he stands on the couch, he pulls on and bangs the wood blinds. Not OK. So in the past week, he's had no less than 14 timeouts. All for giggling at me when he pops up and won't go back onto his bottom.

But even with his timeouts, although he fusses a little, he's still been a pretty sweet, fun little boy. Today, however, all has changed (either that or someone came in the middle of the night and traded babies on me).

For lunch, I made a yummy plate of cheese, chicken, avocado and corn, with strawberries and bananas for dessert. All their favorites. William (I call him that even though I'm still thinking maybe someone had replaced my kid last night) ate a few pieces of his lunch before very deliberately throwing pieces, one at a time, onto the floor. And by "deliberately" I mean - picked up a piece, held it up to me as if trying to feed me, snatching it and putting it toward his mouth, and then moving his arm out to the side and throwing it down onto the floor. With each piece of food. So I said all the things you're supposed to say to your kid when he's throwing food on the ground. And I gave him 3 tries. After the 3rd piece of chicken was tossed to the floor with one hand and a piece of cheese simultaneously tossed with the other hand, lunch ended for William. Imagine how jealous he was when Michael got to eat the rest of the avocado AND the strawberries and banana.

By dinner time, it was looking like Sweet William had returned. He sat on my lap to quietly drink his milk and then played in the kitchen while I finished up the mac & cheese. But when it came to getting into their high chairs...I am not sure who the child is who showed up. We got the full back arch, stiff legs (think light as a feather stiff as a board, but not light as a feather). There was no way I was getting him into this chair.

And tears - the great big alligator kind. And some of that hysterical crying I haven't seen since he was about 4 months old - the crying where he forgets to breathe and turns purple. So I put him on the floor and continued to quietly feed Michael (and I will say - I am pretty sure Michael gave me a "ha. I'm the good kid" smirk a couple times). While William clung to my leg like a squid. And cried. And screamed. Well, just like I don't want kids standing on furniture, I also don't want kids who eat while running all around the house. We eat at the table. Well, "we" don't, but we will. The boys do.

I'm not quite prepared to let my still pretty small kids go to bed without any supper. So I did bend him out of his stiff as a board pose enough to strap him into the seat for a few bites of mac & cheese and fruit. But I got no thanks for it. As soon as Dada got home, William was wrenching himself out of the chair into Dada's arms.

So I've now got this testing and pushing to look forward to. And as it seems to go in this house, I'm sure I wouldn't be too far off in guessing that as soon as William starts to behave, Michael will launch into his testing and pushing and trying of my patience phase.

I will still try to be fun mommy (with the boundaries), and when I have more days like today, I'll stick to my survival rules - deep breathing in the driveway, blaring Bon Jovi when I'm alone in the car, venting to my mother and, when all else fails, remembering I could be the Octomom.