Grandson has been up since 5:50 a.m. This is happy complaining, mind you, and it's not really complaining, it's just that I am amazed the amount of energy it takes to be with a toddler for a day, or a morning. Litany of the dawn:
- ate grapes
- didn't want to be looked at or touched
- pulled books off the shelf just for the helluvit
- ate cheerios
- drank juice
- ate oatmeal (two helpings)
- watch some baby tiger cartoon
- took the dog for a walk
- pulled his backpack out and unloaded all the toys into the kitchen
- ate more grapes
- got changed and dressed
- brushed teeth
- drove mom to her teaching assignment
- drove grandson to daycare
- empty the dishwasher
- clean up breakfast dishes
- pick up toys in kitchen, living room, bedroom
- brew a second cuppa and put on some relaxing music
There's a reason we have kids when we are young. I am usually perplexed when I hear of a 40 something expectant mother. Yoy. When my daughter was young, we had friends who had their first baby when she was 40, her second boy when she was 45. Granted, this woman had lots of energy -- she had to.
At 56, I discover that I have enough energy to help out for a few days with my grandson, but I'll probably rest a lot when I get back home. Hell, it's been two days since I showered. I've been making do with sponge baths because that's just the way it is. Oh, how I recall the days of young motherhood when I was 32.
Oh, and last night, I gave him a bath (fun!) and afterwards as I stood him up to brush his teeth, he pulled away from the toothbrush, faced the bathroom door and proceeded to pee on the tile floor. I picked him up mid-stream and stuck him on his potty. But, alas, he had peed himself out. He thought it was pretty funny to pee on the floor. It was even funnier when dad cleaned it up. Good times.
I do love him so.