Thank you for flooding the bathroom this morning. I’ve been given the gift of time now that you wake me up every day bright and early at 6am and I was actually asking myself, what to do with all this time? Yes, trying to stop poop water before it penetrates the carpet is one way to fill the time that early in the morning. You see, you seem to follow the philosophy of, if there’s a problem, the answer is to wipe until the entire roll of toilet paper is gone and flush often until the water pours out plentifully. I can see how this thought process may seem correct in your head but I’m telling you, it’s not. All I see is your inexperience in covering up big problems in the form of poop smeared in random corners of the bathroom and a toilet exploding like a fountain. Bravo Miles – never have my mornings felt so alive.
I often question as to why you and your sister have formed an evil alliance that somehow was created for the sole purpose of making sure I don’t sleep. It’s becoming apparent that there seems to be some schedule you two have worked out amongst yourselves where you take turns keeping me awake. I cry a little when I hear your bedroom door squeak open and I hear your little feet running down the hall. I do my best to look happy in an attempt to try to start the day off right but sometimes my true emotions come through and I blurt out, “aww, shit.” Your bright smile is quickly replaced by an unsure expression. Don’t come in to my room at that hour expecting sunshine and unicorns. Just be thankful that I acknowledge you as my child at that hour. I could throw you in the backyard with the portable potty and lock the door but I know Social Services frowns upon that therefore, I won’t let them know if I decide to go that route.
We ventured out to Berkeley today, in spite of our early morning bathroom activities mentioned above. We went to a place called Habitot which is an indoor hands-on activity based establishment. Lots of things to do including art, a makeshift grocery store, a water table area, a face-paint station and a fireman area complete with fire truck and a simulated burning house. This trip pretty much confirmed that I really dislike Berkeley. The people are strange and there appears to be no exception to their children. All sorts of these kids were running around with no pants and all I could think of was the potential airborne diseases we were all being exposed to because, “these parents are all free beings and stuff.” This poor little dirty child continued to come up to me at least five separate times to ask where her Daddy was?
You were in your typical fashion where you teeter on the fine line of normal and psychopath. You’re in that place where you know how to do everything and if there is even a breath of me trying to help you, you scream like a savage. Of course, there are times I do have to step in and intervene when you make a crazy face towards an innocent pantless child and you react like the crazy little person you are. I took you to the bathroom before we left and you were throwing yourself against the door with such hysterics that people must have thought that I brought my rabid dog with me. As we departed the building and I peered down at your tear stained swollen red face, I thought to myself, why doesn’t this happen more often under your Dad’s watch?
When we go to the park, I make a real conscious effort to sit back and allow you and Liv to do your thing. Clearly, you can do it all yourself and I would hate to tell you otherwise. I have noticed a trend of hovering parents – especially at the playground. A child can’t go down the slide without a parent walking along side of it, ready to catch their three year old from the treacherous half foot drop at the bottom. What ever happened to just letting a kid play? Obviously, the universe disapproves of my ill-will towards engaging parents because a bird crapped on my shoulder while I sat back and watched you play from a bench. It was astonishing though to see how many other parents got involved with kids that weren’t theirs. You often look disgruntled and there were several incidences where I watched another Mother attempt to help you in some way. Hey lady, why don’t you overreact over the fact your child is helping themselves to a public drinking fountain. Oh, the horror!
Being a Mother to a two year old rambunctious independent emotional boy is beyond exhausting. I have never felt more uncomfortable in public and I thank you for forcing me to not care. I find myself reprimanding you in all sorts of public forums and I no longer care if someone is copying down my license plate number to report me to the authorities. I often wonder if you would be happier being bare-bottomed running free with the buffalo. You remind me a great deal of those little ones in the “Lord of the Flies” and I often feel like we clash so much because I’m trying too much to suppress your wild kindred spirit. The truth of the matter is, I’m at that point where I will entertain all possibilities. If you want to run around pantless in Berkeley with the other savages, I will put aside my differences of this city and allow you to be free with your people. It’s a good thing you’re cute because I could almost guarantee that you would be living with the buffalo right now.