Mary is officially a holy terror.
I can’t work at my desk. She wants up – not to snuggle, no. She wants to push the buttons on the printer, or remove the ball from my Trackball. Or she bounces, pointing, and saying, “Eh! Eh! Eh!” I’ll pick up Safe-Indestructible-or-Unimportant Object #1, and she’ll shake her head no. I’ll pick up Safe-Indestructible-or-Unimportant Object #2, and she’ll shake her head no. I’ll repeat, until I finally pick up something unsafe, or breakable or important, and yes, of course, that is the thing she wants.
I can’t do the laundry. She scatters clean, folded laundry faster than I can put it in the basket. She puts on the dirty clothes or tries to put them in the dryer. If the dirty clothes are hers, she runs away with them as though I was trying to steal them. And she tries to climb in the dryer.
I can’t do the dishes. She empties the dishwasher of clean or dirty dishes. She doesn’t care, on the floor they go. She did try to put away some plastic plates in the proper drawer today, but they were dirty. She climbs on the lid and starts picking up the breakable glasses and mugs from the top rack, then throws them down when she’s done looking. And she drinks whatever liquid may have collected on the lid of the washer or the bottoms of the cups.
One minute, she’ll be playing on the kitchen floor, and the next, I will turn and find she has silently climbed on top of the garbage can and is pulling at the green bananas. I told her no, but, apparently, she thinks that means, “You figure out how.”
It’s not the climbing that is so bad, it’s the premeditation, the cleverness. When Fritz was this age, I had to teach him to move a step stool to where he wanted to go. This child has needed no such instruction. The other day I caught her attempting to go from the stool to a chair in order to get to the CD player.
If she’s not playing in the sink, it’s because somebody left the toilet lid open and she’s splashing around. Today she dunked a brand new roll inside.
She empties drawers and cabinets. She climbs into the pantry and rips open boxes. Our dog has gained five pounds eating cracker crumbs. She prowls through the house just looking for trouble, dragging the spoils of her last scene of pillage with her.
If you’re laughing, it’s because you aren’t cleaning up her messes.
She’s on her third outfit today. The first got wet in the bathroom sink. When will these children learn to close the door?
The second got covered in peanut butter. Her trusty stool helped her reach the open jar.
When Fritz took her picture, she laughed, the little imp.
I can’t keep up. And her naps are simply not long enough. For me.
Just makes you ache for another one, doesn’t it? 😉>>I’m sorry – I know it’s easy for me to say this, but those PB pics are out-of-this-world adorable. I love the impish twinkle in her eye that just seems to whisper, “And this is only the beginning…”
sounds just like sarah>r
I’m laughing, but not because I don’t have to clean up after her. Nope, it’s because I’ve got one just like her. Why, just this morning, I said to one of her big sisters, “Please wash Penelope’s hands before we go so she doesn’t smell so strongly of beer. Whatever will people think?!”
I am laughing. She sounds like my neice. Everytime I speak to my sister-in-law, I hear stories like this, and she can’t keep up with that spirited child either. I sort of blame myself, cause her first born was calm and never did tings like that…and mine at the time was rather rambunctious. I felt so alone with the little terror, when everyone else had sweet angel babies..so I sort of wished she’d have a more spirited child the second time around…and she sure did, double fold.
I’m laughing. Can you hear me?>>I laugh because I’ve had a couple just like her in the last six years.
Can you send her outside to run around the house?>>Hugs.
I am laughing, because David is the same way. I can’t turn away for two seconds because he is into something. Destroying something, screaming because he wants something he can’t have (I love your name for it). I have to say he has not gotten into the peanut butter, but the toliet is a daily thing. DAILY. She’s beyond adorable, though…does that help at all? 🙂
You’re wrong. I’m laughing because I have my own little imp. 🙂>>Good luck, my friend. May Our Lady of Prompt Succor come to your aid – NOW! 🙂
And you’re bringing this child to my house tomorrow?? Are you crazy? >>To do list for today: >hide all step stools>put peanut butter on highest shelf>buy latches for toilets>teach my children to unlatch toilets>empty all trash cans>>Of course Mary is very welcome!
You all will HATE me, but my three weren’t like that at all, but I got NO rest, NO relaxation as when they were up and about, I was ON THEM CONSTANTLY – no breathing room. My house was in a constant state of piles here and there until dad got home. I did babysit a few like that though, and it can be so overwhelmingly exhausting – so my heart aches for those of you with these clever, exporing children!!
I meant to say that my heart aches, ‘cos what a lovely thing it is to have any kids at all — and I’d take those challenges any day all over again. Mary is a doll and so cute done up in PB!!
I love honest posts like this one. Sometimes I feel guilty when my kids drive me crazy, when I find myself thinking it would be nice if, as a mom, you could turn in your resignation…just for a day of rest.>>However, when I see that other moms go through it, too, that their children aren’t always angelic cherubs, it gives me some comfort and makes me realize my feelings are completely normal.>>I just am sorry YOU have to be the on to offer this solace to me! 🙂>>Blessings,>Kate
I can sympathize. I have one holy terror and one just starting out in that stage. I don’t know whether to be sad that there is no reprieve between them or to be happy that I’m still in the holy terror mode and ready for the next one.
I think my Mary is your Mary’s evil twin.>>Seriously, let’s never get these two little girls together or they will leave us in a cloud of smoke.>>I feel for you sister… I feel for you.