No touch the moon

So my daughter will be 2 in a few weeks.  Yes, the baby is no longer a baby; this is a hard place for me to be.  Still with her shedding the scales of infancy she is experimenting with toddler hood, individuality and her own wonderful personality.  We hear a lot of mirroring from daycare (where I also work)....." No touch.....time out Gavin (poor Gavin)......no touch the window."  Obviously there has been a lot of NO TOUCH in the young 2's room.  It's part and parcel of toddlers I know.

Still the best part was when last week, there was a glorious full moon beaming down on us as we got home after a particularly late evening.  Hannah was tired and ornery, John was tired and pissy and Jake was eager to get back to whatever electronic device had his soul at that time,,....(prolly his DS).  To calm Hannah I pointed to the moon: round, fat and shiny and tinny.  

Hannah's response...."No touch the moon!"  It evoked a bemused smile from me but I say it here, especially in light of the last few weeks we've had in this country.

Oh sweet heart, yes you can,...yes you can touch the moon and don't let anyone tell you otherwise....its not that far and it's not going to break!

My big pity party

I have been amiss in my ramblings (about 4 months of amiss actually). I have been up to my eyes in effectively being a single parent and dealing with all the ramifications of therapies, doctor's appointments and medicaid hoops (some apparently are ringed with fire...I have scars to prove it). And all before I deal with the everyday parenting stuff. Hubby has been teaching nightschool, so for a while it was me the four walls and the kids (oh and the wee dog) until about 8:15pm....THEN swim season arrived! Now it's 10:30pm before hubby emerges from the abyss. About two hours too late to help me and by that point I'm happy in my singledom and am damned annoyed he has teh audacity to appear at all...I know I'm a shite wife.

Not trying to do the woe is me part hear but I can barely keep it together when everything is as it should be and then I get whammied with needing to find a job, (8 hours each day teaching 3 year olds.....oh and with a psychotic, micro manager of a boss). Hannah gets to come with me and for free, still after 8 hours of that then retreiving my own and having to play Autism roulette each evening (ie: which one will melt down/lose it/demand the impossible/poo in his underwear....actually the latter is easy, that'll be John sigh). Well, it's then me the four walls, a lot of deep breaths and the occasional wet, snotty bawl when all are finally in bed.

I love hubby, but this swim obsession (bee there since we met) is eating into me like ringworm. At first it's just a bit annoying and itchy, then it's downright irritating and finally I want to claw it out with a red hot butter knife (the steakknives are in the dishwasher...that btw: doesn't work).

OK, enough with the pity party, I need to get my ass in gear for yet anohter day with spolied upper middle class 3 year olds....and worst of all their spoiled upper middle class parents.