On the verge of Mother's day

I was blessed with a sweet little baby boy about 30 months ago. I prayed for this little babe to be given to me and my husband day in and day out. I wanted a third little blessing to possibly complete our family. I was blessed for sure but not in the way I had expected. This boy came into the world the sweetest little bundle of pale skin and red hair that I had ever seen, he was like a cuddly little Irish vampire. He slept through the night, he hardly ever fussed he was a God sent for sure. I was so thankful that I had been blessed with such a sweet boy considering I already had 2 kids and I was wondering how on earth I would have enough time for all of them. I was deceived, he was just storing up his energy for the first 16 months to prepare for the chaos that would start shortly. I have been told that red headed children had a special flair to them. I think that is an understatement or "flair" is code for evil.  I have since changed my idea about what God had given me. I was blessed with a son that solidified for me that he was to be my last. I received a clear sign that baby fever would never strike me again, and that it was officially OK to donate all of my baby equipment after he had no use for it.  I see babies these days they are so sweet, and they have that sweet new baby smell, but thanks to my blessing of a son all I see is a sweet smelling, doe eyed hand grenade about to go off in about 2 years. Your house, your car, your wardrobe, and your entire life are about to be exploded upon by that sweet little baby as soon as it hits "The twos."

Now it may seem like I am picking on my dear little ginger son  let me assure you I won't even pen the things that rattle through my brain on a daily basis about this boy that is my cross to bare not yours but let me just tell you a few things this boy has done to warrant his place as, my last child. My son bites the dog. You read that correctly my son bites the dog and not the other way around. They wrestle constantly and when my son is losing he reverts to his Mike Tyson mode and bites the dog. A few months back we moved into a new house with beautiful tan carpeting. As we are unloading boxes from the truck my son found the box that was full of art supplies, he muscled it open and dumps bright red paint all over the living room carpet and bright yellow paint up and down our stairs. We hadn't even gotten all the way into the house yet and we had lost our deposit. Recently I heard a rustling in our breezeway that leads to our back yard, I knew it couldn't be my son because he was peacefully asleep upstairs in his room. Well, turns out he had woken up, stripped out of his clothes, slithered down the stairs, acquired a full container of Nesquik and took it to the breezeway to eat it/cover the room with. He was basically making stark naked Nesquik snow angels on the floor when I found him. Now that is an image you can't unsee.

This boy is the King of giving you mean looks. If you catch him in the act of doing something he isn't allowed to do he will actually scold You and give You the mean face as if You are the one in trouble for catching him. How dare you show up and foil is plot of pulling a dining room chair up to the counter and rooting through the cabinets like a pig looking for a truffles. The day he discovered he could open the fridge was one of the worst days of my life. I caught him once with half a stick of butter in his hand and the other sticks laying around him like terrified prey. I can only assume the other half to that stick of butter was long gone in his belly before I got there. I don't think he realizes it yet but when he gives you the mean face it is a clear sign he has just done something wrong. If you see him with the mean face you had better check to see what's in his mouth, pat him down and check all of his pockets. If you find nothing take a deep breath and go check your house for damages. I have found a whole package of bobby pins in the humidified, an entire bottle of fish food in the fish tank more then once, a large bottle of glitter sprinkled all over the room and a few times I've caught him putting all of the dogs food in the dogs water and that makes some kind of terrible smelly dog food pudding that would make anyone want to throw up. It was OK the first couple of times he covered himself in permanent marker because boys will be boys but after awhile I just think, I'm leaving him that way. I consider it the Scarlet letter of two year olds. You see a child at the park covered in permanent marker you know to tell your kids to stay away. I could handle it the first few times the child covered his feet in nail polish I brushed it off as, trying to be like mommy, but after a few times I figure there is no safe place in the house for nail polish and it is all banished from my home until he's a teenager. Go ahead and ask me why my toes never look nice. I'll give you a full run down on the Nam that is nail polish in my home.

Sometimes I think other mothers see me in the store and even if my son isn't with me they know I have a two year old. I don't wear earrings because my son tries to pull them from my ears. I don't wear expensive glasses because my son pulls the arms off of them. I don't wear dresses or skirts because he will crawl under my skirt and lift it for all the world to see. I don't usually wear my hair down because I spend so much time hunched over reprimanding my 2 year old that it's always in my face. I wear running shoes a lot and it is because my 2 year old is determined to run into the street or towards strange dogs or into immediate peril all the time. I don't wear make-up usually because A. most of the time it's missing and B. a lot of the time it's all used up because my son takes it upon himself to dig his fingers into my lipstick or eye shadow and then smear his face with it. It used to make me furiously mad but now it seems sort of appropriate like a little Aborigine kid with tribal paint running around my house like a wild child. Seems fitting really. The last clear cut sign I'm a mother of a really awful two year old is one of two looks. If he is with me at the store I have the " I'm just trying to get milk and get out of here without a tantrum, No you can't have candy, stop unbuckling your belt, sit down before you break your neck, stop kicking me, where are you brother and sister?" In other words a general appearance of "Help me." Now the second look is much more pleasant if I don't have my kids with me I have this look of walking on air, I feel like I am flying through the store on the wings of a unicorn, soaring towards laundry detergent and dipping down to grab cheez-its with no interruptions and no begging for crap we don't need. I think mothers can read these looks on each other. For the "help" look there is a nod. It's like when motor cyclists pass each other you see them drop their hand and give each other the wave. It's a comradery thing. It says from one mom to another, hang in there sister. They can also read the other look too though, your unicorn riding look will get your tires slashed from jealousy, oh don't act like it's just me. You've thought it.

I've been to the ER and called poison control more times then I can count and he still doesn't learn. Or maybe he does learn and doesn't care either way this child will either make me the strongest mother on earth or he will put me an early grave. I absolutely love this pain in my side and sometimes I think it's the only reason I don't make him live outside with the dog.  I watch that sweet babe sleep and as I look at his little face I think, well first I think, I wonder if that's eye shadow or another black eye, and then I think God made him really cute so that I couldn't stay mad at him for too long. It's a 2 year olds defense mechanism to prevent mothers from just walking off and abandoning them at a store somewhere. It's to prevent the law of the jungle from penetrating everyday mothers. I love the little stinker and no matter what he does I will support him. Who knows maybe I have the next Evel Knievel on my hands or the next David Bowie with as much as he seems to love my make-up. Either way someday there will come a time when he will have to take care of his mother and believe me I will not be an easy woman to deal with. I dealt with this child's terrible twos and that's got nothing on what I have planned for my terrible 80's. Happy Mother's Day especially to the mothers of children in there "Terrible Twos." Hang in there sister.