She Cracked Her Crack?

Yesterday began by Conrad smashing my head in the microwave door and clobbering me on the same side of the face with his first laces' shoe. I was shedding tears while on the phone with my mom, 3 kids running rampant through the house at the witching hour of 6pm, and my husband arrives an hour late and is staring at me so he can unload next. Chloe comes around the corner to tell me our dear neighbor (who I've been helping as she's having some memory loss) is crying at the door as she had just walked 2 miles home from the store because she couldn't find her car. I have an appt at 7pm, perfect...I'll be able to take her there to find it. Go to sleep in my sweet husband's arms, wake up to two buggar picking monsters in my bed. I have a headache. While on the phone with my mom, Conrad has dumped dishwashing soap ALL over my freshly cleaned kitchen. I go to clean that up and put him in the backyard. Oh, that's nice, he's dumped the bag of charcoal on the patio and dragged two weeder eaters over dripping gas along the way. I am picking that up, as he throws his juicy cup on the ground and it explodes everywhere. I wipe that up and take him upstairs so he can play trains while I continue to chat with my mom. He runs out, I run after him, before I could get him, he takes a hard left into the bathroom and rolls all that's left of the toilet paper onto the ground. I'm picking that up and he books it for my bedroom. Heads straight for my husband's bed side table and smash, breaks the bookend. My mom suggests I go to the beach. It's 46 degrees out. She suggests I go for a walk. I have a very painful ingrown toenail from soccer. I go to her house. We go buy some plants. Pull up to park at nursery, Mom's worried Dad's been in an accident as he called muffled and won't pick back up. Mother-in-law calls, she's sick...need to pick up birthday presents from her on my way to get Caleb from school. Get Caleb. He wakes up Conrad. Chloe calls, as every Wed is half day. She brings 4 friends home with her. Finishing up this month's commission statements for business. Write checks. Oh, yeah...have to include 1099s! Piano lessons at 2pm, watch crying baby for 30 mins. Give her back. Neighbor calls, emergency class, her 2 come over. Another neighbor calls, hubby broke his leg, her son comes over. As she's pulling down the driveway, she's the only witness to Chloe slipping on a gummie fruit snack wrapper and landing on her tailbone. Ice the back, ask chiroprator neighbor to come look, order 3 pizzas online while icing, they arrive, followed by hubby. Take Chloe to ER. Fracture to her coccyx: "Well, Chloe, you cracked your crack."

Today's prayer: "She got painkillers, where are mine?"

Butcher Knives

So, Conrad only made me cry three times this last month. He's absolutely the best, happiest, little character in the world, but I literally cannot keep up with him and find myself at my wit's end and wittled to tears quite often. On the day of his most memorable of antics though, I called my husband at work crying (even though our therapist told me to knock it off).

"Honey, I can't do it! I can't do this any more!"

"What? Do what?"

"Parent him! I can't do anything! I can't turn my back for one freakin' second without him almost killing himself!"

"What happened?"

Sniffle...Sniffle. Exhale.

"Conrad and I were sitting at the table coloring. And Paul came over to talk to me about the stupid, barking dog behind our house. And I went to give him a hug for helping me out and walked him to the door. By the time I turned and walked into the kitchen, Conrad had broke the lock on the knife drawer and had all our perfect Cutco knives that Oma and Opa bought us last year for Christmas strewn across the counter!"

"Ok. Is he ok?"

"Yes, but that's not all! The butcher knife was out, the cleaver, the bread knife! All of them! The paring knife was sticking straight out of the dishwasher vent and to top it off, the plastic cover of the blue knife was melting in the fire of the gas stove that he turned on! Seth!"

Ba-wa-wa-wa-wa.

"Um, are you ok?" he asks calmly and inattentively, sitting doing his awsome insurance salesman paperwork.

"No. No, I'm not ok. Our kid, at 22 months old and in 60 seconds, snapped the knife drawer safety gadget, turned on the gas stove, laid out a nice knife display, stabbed the dishwasher, and lit a knife on fire. No, I'm not ok."

Today's prayer: "Lord, You never give us more than we can handle. Conrad turns 2 in a couple weeks, please let this be the end of the terrible 2s and not a beginning. I can't handle much more!"