I’ve got precious little time to write. In a matter of mere moments the dogs will start stirring, and Cheyenne will stumble to the bathroom, and the spoiled princess I’ve got sleeping in my bed will be so disturbed by "all that noise" that she’ll grumble, whine, and then demand to be carried to the living room and given chocolate milk in a purple cup.
And only a purple cup.
It’s amazing how fast a child can become accustomed to a certain way of life. It seemed to take only days with Mia, 2 tops, for her to think that sleeping in Mommy and Daddy’s bed was just how the world was meant to be. Imagine, all the work we spent on her bed–the frame, the painting, the comforter that I hand-stitched (My hands were more beat up sewing that thing than they were carving the mousehouse). All in vain!
I mentioned the matter of chocolate milk–it doesn’t stop there. I guess it is the way of a two year old to want what they want when they want it. Tell me if this sounds normal:
Upon waking up:
"I need chocolate milk!"
"In my purple cup!"
"I need to be cozy!"
"I need to be cozy with the blue blankie!"
"No, the dark blue one!"
"I want to watch ‘Nah-toe Wee-bway!’" (That’s Nacho Libre–and yes, I know it’s not the best movie for toddlers, but she absolutely loves it.)
"Get me my Mumble!" (The stuffed penguin she just had to have after a trip to Toys-R-Us.
Yeah, I guess we do our share of catering to the kid. But it was just so enjoyable at first. Now it’s required…sort of. I cave under pressure, and with toddlers, that pressure comes in the form of scream–ug. Nails against a blackboard to my ears. I hate it. I’ll do anything to not have to listen to a second of it.
On another note, I threw my first B.F. of the holiday season. I know I have a lot of family members looking foward to the Christmas pictures of the girls I promised, but you will be disappointed yet again. The pictures came in a week late, the staff at the studio was completely incompetent, and RUDE, disorganized, and unproffesional…and the quality of the prints SUCKED. Just plain sucked, and they weren’t worth the money I spent. So, after the third time waiting for an hour plus, I became part of an angry mob in the Target Portrait Studio. It was late, Mia was screaming her head off…no manager would show his or her face, so finally I just asked for my money back. I told them they could throw the pictures in the garbage for all I cared. I was reasonably horrible to those guys. I’m a little ashamed…no, not really, I’m not. And I’m gonna write a letter.