Why mama needs to blog.

Have I mentioned that Coen is an active child? I am sure I have---countless times. It isn't that he is just active, but he is also without fear, he is curious, and he is persistent to the max. He is the F5 tornado while my other children are spring rain. Literally my days involve fixing and cleaning one mess after another made by this little monster (as I affectionately call him) disguised as a cute baby. I spend so much time on him and his disasters, or trying to prevent his disasters, that everything else is ignored. Strangers on the street regularly like to laugh and say, "Wow, you have your hands full with that one!" They don't even know, they really don't.

So I struggle. I have days---sometimes just moments--where I am understanding and patient, knowing that he is simply a curious little boy. I remember that this craziness this is just a phase. My patient wanes too easily though and in a moment I can feel myself snapping and wanting to scream, and maybe even cry.

Such as this morning when Coen climbed on the kitchen table for the fourth time in 6 minutes and ended up throwing his brother's breakfast, which he was still trying to eat, onto the floor. Or like when just a short time ago I needed to take a shower. I brought Coen into the bathroom with me and meticulously put everything that I did not want him to touch out of his reach; make-up in the medicine cabinet, plunger in the bathtub, and tampons in the linen closet. I left some bathtub toys on the floor for him to play with. I closed the door to keep him contained with Braden just outside the door playing with his trains at the kitchen table. While I was in the shower Braden came in and peed in his potty. He was quick and he closed the door behind him when he was done. As I was finishing my three minute shower I happened to notice that Coen was near Braden's potty. I didn't have my glasses on and could not see what he was doing. I quickly finished my shower and got out, sticking my glasses back on my face immediately. It wasn't good. I found Coen swirling a hot dog bun around in Braden's fresh pee. (I'm making myself believe that he didn't eat any of said hot dog bun, but I know that I am probably lying to myself.) I asked Braden where Coen got the hot dog bun and he informed me that Coen went out to the kitchen and got it off of the counter while he was going pee. Coen is quick and I had not even noticed that he had left the bathroom.

I went about cleaning up the grossness. Coen was stripped down and put into the tub while I bleached everything in site, cursing in my head, knowing that I had been freshly clean just seconds earlier. I guess I am going to have to quit showering when I am home alone with the kids.......

Basically, I feel defeated in this sort of, "I don't even know what to do anymore!" kind of way. I can put all of this effort in to making sure that Coen has nothing to get into, that he is safe, so I can have a few moments to take care of myself or my other children. Even with all of the effort he still manages to find a way to get around my work. I think the time has come in which I need to accept that this 17 1/2 month old baby is smarter than me, a 32 year old grown adult. It makes sense, really, considering that my pregnancy with him sucked the last of my brain cells from my head, leaving me with the ability to do little more than walk upright and wipe drool from my mouth.

I love the kid, you know? My heart feels like it is going to burst with love for him and each of my children, of course. Despite all of the love I have for him Coen is the kid who makes me think that a vacation in the loony bin might not be so bad. On days like today when it is taking everything inside of me to not hand him over to the first stranger who happens to walk by my house all I can do is fix the mess and move on, and remind him that he is lucky he is so cute. Oh, and maybe put him down for a nap two hours early so that I can vent in cyberspace without having to worry about what he is into while I blog out my frustrations.