When Your Toddler Wants CONTROL, Twin Edition

Since going back to work full-time, I find that when I get home at 3:45, I really do miss them. Typically, they give me some snuggles and we go out to play. They make my arrival back at home warm and fuzzy. 

Sometimes we have evenings like tonight, where my husband and I are cartwheeling out of their bedroom at 8:20 (which is later than it should’ve been) and racing to the nearest bottle of booze. To back up a few hours, this is how our evening went down:

-B wouldn’t go outside with C and I because he had to poop, but the poop hadn’t “come out yet” and he didn’t want to go outside “with his poop”. I’d sure love to put him on the potty, but he refuses to sit on it right now. Once he went and was changed, we headed outdoors.

-I took them for a long walk in the wagon where they each wanted a leaf to hold for the ride. B loved his red one, but I couldn’t find another red one right away so I tried to give C a yellow one. That was met with loud protests.

-When Daddy got home, the twins didn’t want to go for their typical stroller jog with him, and so I decided not to fight the battle, as it was already 5:15 and I had a meatloaf still to make. So, they watched TV. TV, of course, is always in the same order: Youtube’s HooplaKidz, the one with “Wheels on the Bus” that plays 8 times in a row, followed by 5 minutes of Thomas the Train and then finally onto an actual episode of Daniel Tiger. This time, B threw a fit when we got to the last one, and we eventually switched to “Garbage Trucks Teaching Colors”.

-Dinner wasn’t on the table until 6:20. C cried hysterically that she didn’t want dinner and wanted to keep watching TV, even though she was eating food she loved (baked beans, sweet potato, and leftover “sticks”). They both soaked through their diapers while watching TV (oops) and I had to strip them down, including C’s wet socks, and wash the couch. I put C in a white diaper before I realized B needed a new one too. He was out of whites, so he wore black. C was extremely upset that she didn’t have a black diaper too. More tears.

-Then the real meltdowns started. B started screaming because his “brown peas” were on a plate (a sectioned one), and not a bowl. C was still screaming because she wanted a black diaper, she didn’t want dinner and once she did, she wanted her beans in a bowl too. Once they ate some of their food, B decided he was done. I tried to convince him to stay for the milk at least but no, he was done. So I got him down from the table and let him know he could go play or come back to eat. He wanted to play, but he wanted me to play with him. He screamed because I wasn’t done with my dinner. “MOMMY ALL DONE DINNER!!!” Threw the cover of his milk on the floor. Threw his straw (and C’s) on the floor. Threw himself on my arm. Meanwhile, C decided she didn’t want her sweet potatoes and was yelling about that. I continued to eat, of course, wondering with my husband where the mute button was.

-When I finished eating, I got up to play with B. A few moments of peace. Bath time was next. While throwing in their bucket of “ocean animals” one by one (and there’s like 85 of them), C’s arm slipped and she smacked her face on the edge of the tub. That was very sad, of course, and I’m lucky she didn’t get hurt. Just a sore cheek and a bruised ego. Lots of cuddles followed and I plunked her in the tub. Only to have her SCREAM because she didn’t have a chance to pick out her own washcloth. B started screaming because he didn’t want to take a bath at all.

-After the bath, B was upset because I wasn’t wearing the correct color bow of C’s that he wanted me to wear. He asked for one as well, but I had to put it in his hair for him, he couldn’t just hold it. And then I had to tell him he looked pretty.

-C wanted to run around naked and I told her “one more time” and she said, “two more times?” with her little sweet face – and I said no. And she cried. When I started to get her dressed, she wanted to hold three chapsticks in her hands, not the usual two.

-Right before books, C realized she wouldn’t have the opportunity to drink water out of their water bottles, only their cups, because I hadn’t filled the bottles today. Tears and more yelling. After books, more tears because she didn’t get to kiss a certain picture on a certain page of a certain book.

-On our way up the stairs, C wasn’t close enough to B for his liking so he began yelling that he needed to wait for C.

-And finally, when two toddlers were tucked nicely into their cribs with all 7 animals accounted for (4 for C, 3 for B)….they started arguing while Daddy and I tried to sing their goodnight song. “I’m a mouse! B is a bear!” “NO C! No BEAR! B is a mouse TOO!” “NO B! C is a mouse! C is a MOUSE!!!”

And then we did our cartwheels and headed to the fridge.

When I got down the stairs tonight at 8:30pm, looking at the damage in the kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom, den and our bedroom caused by twin tornadoes, I vented to my husband that now, at this time of night, for once, I don’t WANT to spend the following hours 1) cleaning up, which is actually the biggest job, as the dinner mess was still out as well 2) preparing our adult lunches, 3) preparing toddler lunches, 4) preparing adult dinner, 5) and doing laundry. I don’t mind the chores, but I’m sick of starting them at 8:30 at night. I think we need a new schedule!

And that’s what a night with two cranky toddlers looks like! Time for bed!DSC_0535

A face only a mother could love 🙂 First apple picking of the season – here he is, loving every bite. And I mean EVERY bite. Turned away for one second, and the core was gone!

DSC_0291

Don’t worry, it’s not poop. My good intentions to let them splash in a puddle turned into a giant mud fest. Sigh. At least her hair stayed clean.

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3 thoughts on “When Your Toddler Wants CONTROL, Twin Edition

  1. randomsqueaks says:

    That is so familiar! Waves of empathy over here. I don’t usually remember all the little details like that though. I think in 15 years you should pull that out and remind them of what they are like now.

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