Tales of a Two Year Old

I woke this morning before day break to the sounds of my two year old crying upstairs. As any good mom would do, I nudged his father to "take care of it". Well, that great plan failed, so I drug myself out of bed and up the never ending stairway that has no less than 2000 steps, (yes I counted them on the way up). As I navigated my way through the new house to the babies room, I am in rhythm with his cries shushing him into silence... like this actually has ever worked - why I tried it in the wee hours of morning?, I can only chalk it up to sleep deprivation. I finally reached Tristan (the two year old in question) and found that his problem is nothing more than his desire to pee-pee in the potty (for the two tiny m&m's he receives as a reward). Now there is no way I'm giving my two year old candy at 5:30 in the morning - is he crazy!? So our day began with an unhappy T-man and a crazy mommy. Being the perfect mom I am (right!) I let daddy have his special time with the T-man, of course I choose this to be 6:30 in the morning as daddy is trying to get ready for work. I catch a few z's and am awakened by said daddy/hubby stating that he's off to work and that little Tristan has had cereal and is watching cartoons. I love that man!
OK - fast forward to the fun stuff...
It was an easy day until Tristan began his exploration of the new house. So far today I have discovered him scooting the dining room chair in front of the refrigerator to sneak candy. What's so strange about that you say?.. nothing. This is just how it all started. He came to me later saying he had to poopie - great I thought!.. after all, we are potty-training. Well he pooed in his diaper, dug it out between his legs and so graciously placed it in the potty and flushed it for mommy, but needed his fingers cleaned! I, of course, just smiled at him lovingly and thanked him for his thoughtfulness... NOT! I freaked out looking for a pile of poo hoping it wasn't the runny kind. Thankfully Tristan loves to re-enact his deeds... I am assured it was all flushed with no harm done to the planet.
Later on I hear him crying to me, "mommy help!" so I followed the echos and found him upstairs in Evelyn's room (his 9 year old sister) on the top bunk with all her hair accessories and makeup spread out over the mattress. I guess he thought it was time for a makeover. Not 30 minutes later, again the screaming, "mommy help!". This time I located him in my bathroom - naked - where he had somehow climbed onto the counter top. Why you ask?.. well it seems he wanted to brush his teeth. But the naked part - ??? What a good boy he is! whatever...
So the blessed nap time came and I was thrilled that I actually got the twins asleep and Tristan laid down all at the same time - a very rare occurrence. Evelyn and Avery, (the 11 year old brother) are outside playing hotwheels with the neighbor boy enjoying the rare cool July day when all of a sudden I see Tristan coming around the corner - dun dun dun... It seems that he wasn't quite finished with his makeover from earlier. He had managed to open, not one, but three (yes three) bottles of nail polish and proceed to freestyle paint his face, hands, legs and the one sockless foot lovely shades of pink, purple and silver. His nails were nicely done I must say, but I really didn't know if I wanted to beat him or laugh at him! Making him retrace his steps so I could locate the bottles in question, I discovered he had thoughtfully recapped them all and didn't spill a drop. Sweet child that he is. At least he had his clothes on this time!
Around four in the afternoon a friend of mine stopped by to pick up a bicycle the kids had outgrown for her son. We stepped in the backyard onto the deck, were talking and Tristan sneaked out and was standing by the pool - yes you can feel my fear even now. He decided to throw his blow up ring into the pool and thought it would be fun to reach out and grab it. With only a wet hand he was whisked into the house with a threat of death, (not really but you know we all want to say those things). After my heart regulated once again and the breathing subsided we were back to our fun-filled adventures inside. That wonderful daddy man came home and was just about to relieve me of my shift when I noticed a travel size tube of toothpaste on the floor - remembering earlier how badly Tristan wanted to brush his teeth, this momma realized it never happened. How can one get onto a boy for wanting to brush his teeth? Then I turned the corner and found a lovely pile of expelled toothpaste on the carpet just at the bottom of the stairs. With one more deep sigh I start scrubbing away with a damp cloth. *Note to all parents - toothpaste grows with water... never clean with a damp cloth. This little pile suddenly grew into a huge mass of white pasty ooze. Well, daddy man is here taking over the chaos and I am hiding writing this blog. Obviously the day isn't over, but hey - this is nothing more than normal for our home.
May all you parents have rest tonight, because you never know what tomorrow holds.