motherhood makes me wonder about a lot of things
1) How did Cleveland spontaneously learn to pick his nose AND eat it? Seriously, it's as though turning two somehow turned on the nose-picking gene that had lay dorment for the first years of his life.
2) Why, despite the myriad colorful, fun gizmos at her disposal does Lucie consistently choose the least child-friendly object in sight to play with (read: the lid of my travel mug, or Phil's comb, a Sharpie pen, scissors, can opener, meat cleaver, etc)?
3) Why, despite the myriad colorful, fun gizmos at his disposal does Cleveland consistently choose to rip the above object out of Lucie's hand/mouth in an aggressive manner that is decidedly out of character for him?
4) Here's a typical morning: Cleveland gets up and has breakfast. Not long after this, he points to his little bum bum and says 'poo poo'. I diligently check his diaper and it is almost always dry. So, I say, 'do you want to sit on the potty?'. With some coercion, he generally agrees. We spend some time on the potty, often reading 'Once upon a potty', and sometimes playing with the 'special potty toy' (my cell phone or other contraband). After a while he sweetly says 'All done', and we resume by diapering and hand-washing, etc. Then, minutes, nay, SECONDS later, he poops. WHY?
5) Why does Cleveland refuse to eat anything that isn't oatmeal and raisins or goldfish when sitting by himself, but will literally devour a plate of tofu/broccoli/red pepper and brown rice stir-fry if I'm willing to eat some, too?
6) Why do my children insist on opposite nap schedules (one goes down, the other gets up)? And don't say it's Gods way of giving them each some one-on-one time with me. I want some one-on-one time with me!
7) How can Cleveland never fail to hear the bus go by our house (8 times an hour), no matter where in the house he may be, but can literally tune me out when I'm standing right next to him?
8) Why is Lucie about to walk? Seriously, I deserve at least three more months of only semi-mobility, don't I?
9) How do they both manage to steal my breath careening around the corner by the staircase, or standing at the table and clapping, teetering on tip toes, or barely missing their hands/heads when slamming the cabinet doors?
10) Why does my soul still leak with love when I open their bedroom door at night and see them sleeping; when they are still and quiet, and I only hear them breathing? And I think to myself, so that's where my breath goes...
