Nighttime Circus With a Sprinkle of Poop Fakeouts

It is completely incredible to me how different two kids that came from the same body just 17 months apart are SO different. They of course look and sound like siblings, but their temperaments are so completely different. I often wonder if its birth order that influences this or gender or the freaking universe foreshadowing teen-hood in the Finn house. (Lord, help us!)

B: Lady, see that bed? PUT ME IN IT. Stop the singing and the story reading. I’m tired and I want to suck on my sleep sack. (This is a whole separate post that should be called “Turducken”, but Soul Sister C lent me D’s Zipadee Zip sleep sack when B was 4 months old and it became his lovey after wearing it to bed for 8 months. Its gross. SO gross.)

S: Mama, you blow dry my hair? {done with the toy blow dryer} Mama, Floss. {done} (side-note, my 2.5 year old LOVES getting her teeth flossed- that’s a win, right?). Mama, 3 books. She picks the three worst books ever which generally include this giant book of “fairytales for girls” that SUCKS and weighs at least 7 lbs and falls on my foot EVERY. DAMN. TIME., Trolls- the shortened (thank goodness) version, and the book that counts to 100. That’s it. It just counts literally to 100 a bunch. Barf. Mama, 3 songs? (start singing) NOT THAT ONE! This repeats after each song that I choose until she requests “Paw Patrol”. I do not know the words to freaking Paw Patrol, so I just repeat “Paw Patrol” for a good 3 minutes while simultaneously trying not to lose my sh*t. Then we want 3 more songs that I don’t know. FINALLY THE CRIB. Mama, ABCs and Twinkle. Ok, I can handle this. {Done} MAMA!! NO! Traveler in the Night! This completely creeps me out. Who is this traveler and why is he coming in the night? I sing that phrase over and over anyways while trying not to be afraid of whoever visits in the night. MAMA! I need socks on! {done} NOT Olaf socks! Regular socks! {Done again}

Head downstairs. Pour coffee or wine depending on what the rest of the day looked like. 

MAMA! I have to poop! I know very well that she doesn’t have to poop. But I don’t want to screw up all the potty training work and I certainly don’t want to clean poop out of a pull-up. I don’t want to clean it out of the tupperware-like potty either, but beggars can’t be choosers. So I go up there. After 6 minutes on the potty, I realize she doesn’t have to poop. OBVI. Back. To. Bed. Finally. She sings to her dolls for about 30 minutes and falls asleep. 

Speaking of the aforementioned poop fakeout… I went to the potty with S 13 times today. THIRTEEN. She only went 5 times of those 13. Three of these times were at a mall which is super easy with B screaming in the stroller while I say loudly “Push the poop out, girlfriend!” in a crowded bathroom. #noshame. My two year old found out that underpants and pottys are her power. And I am her minion. We drop everything for poop and that little boss lady knows it. Manipulation. At. Two. 

At the end of the day, although this stuff is hard, long, and at times annoying, I know that S will not want me around her (pooping, bedtime, and otherwise) forever, so I embrace it. I may lose several hours out of the day being manipulated by a toddler, but the time is spent with my little miracle who I adore to the end of the earth. I will take all the cuddles, songs, and even poop fakeouts so that I get that time with Sweet S. As far as B goes, he gives me #allthecuddles during the day and especially every morning at 4:30am (insert eye roll followed by heart melting- I’ll take what I can get). End of the day: Embrace the chaos, take a deep breath, and sing the damn Paw Patrol song that you don’t know. 

Picture: The room I spend the majority of my time at home in: the bathroom. 

We. Bought. A. (GULP). MINIVAN.

I’s car has been dying a slow death for about 6 months now. And by slow I mean the death happened when Chicago decided that negative degrees was the new thing. We literally jumped it 4 times to get to the four places we went to look for our next ride. She was a good old 10 year old gal with lots of spunk and a *nearly* kidless interior. She was basic (not in the modern sense of the word #targetandstarbucks) but in the sense that you didn’t need a college degree dating later than 2008 to operate her. 

Enter Bertha. She is a lovely preowned T&C (not to be confused by T&A for all you 90s folks). We are unsure of whether she is blue or black- it depends on the sun. She is fully loaded with the entertainment, leather, power doors, and cup holders/consoles that moms DREAM of. We found her after looking for new, used, and non existent vans. She. Is. Glorious. Here is what I learned about shopping for minivans (or any car when you are in a crunch, on a budget, and need something different). 

RESEARCH. One of my longest soul sisters, M, has the exact car that we now bought and its mainly because we know the power in word of mouth. Chrysler should hire that girl because she made it a no brainer once we found our unicorn car. 

Who isn’t on a budget? This girl is on a b.u.d.g.e.t. We came up with the idea to write out our bottom (desperate or I isn’t going to work on Monday) line. Before we even got to the dealerships (4- yes 4). We walked away from 2 Town and Country’s, one Pacifica, and an Odessy (that we couldn’t even buy because they are recalled until March). We FINALLY got that bottom line to work at the final dealership. SIDENOTE: we had S and B with us for 3/4 of these nightmares… er… experiences. I was sweating for all of the negotiations in which I was a COMPLETE B*tch which is a whole other post). ASK FOR #allthethings. Get that car certified, gas, weather mats, headphones, their firstborn- whatever it takes to make you get the feels when you leave in your new beast. 

WALK AWAY. Just. Do. It. If it doesn’t feel right, walk away. We kept finding that when we pre-emailed about a used vehicle (we looked at new too), we got the B-team of salesmen. At one place, we had a man that was literally BURNING the time clock as my 2 year old licked her hands after playing in sleet water from the shiny tile of the showroom floor. GET IT TOGETHER DUDE! We are a family of 4 with kids who hate us right now. JUST RUN THE NUMBERS. We should have left after he had no idea what the difference was between 2 models. 

GIVE IN. My mom had a minivan growing up. Her name was Gumby. She was, yes, green and had gold hubcaps. Not rims. Hubcaps. She was the opposite of cool, and even in the 4th grade, I knew it. I swore I could never want one of those. And then I had two kids who act like drunk wet noodles when you put them in the car and I’m like #givemealltheslidingdoorsandTV. 

At the end of the day, I love my sweet, sweet Bertha. She is big, beautiful, and I didn’t have to lift my BOB stroller 4 feet to get her put away after Stroller Barre class today. I love her. She loves me. Alas, I can listen to Bone Thugs N Harmony on 104.3 while B says “bone” after each verse in peace while feeling like a good mom.