Almost an entire bottle of floor cleaner, half a roll of paper towels, I’m not sure how many outfit changes and a boot bath.  That was our day.

We got litle sleep as usual; I accept the blame for going to bed at 2am, however.  But the 4am sqwuaking for who-knows-why?  Um, yeah.  Definitely not my doing.

So, Jack’s all into destruction these days, much like any little kid.  Just like any little boy.  The first time is cute, the second time is sometimes funny, but the fifth time of flipping over the sippy cup and shaking every last drop?  Not my idea of fun.

He waits until I’m not looking, squints his eyes, (because y’know, if he can’t see me, then I can’t see him) and then he goes for it.  The first incident sometimes begins at 5am when I’m not even mentally awake yet.  Sometimes, it starts at 7am.  But it never ends.

We tether his cup to his highchair to help diminish the chance of milk puddles on our polk-dotted stained carpet.  But, that just means the milk puddles are contained to that area where the cup is located.  I keep the cup in the kitchen and wait for him to sign until he’s thirsty.  But yeah, he will not drink if I watch him.  He goes on a thirst strike and cries and whines until I let him drink on his own again.

And so, I look away and let him drink on his own.  And he rebels.  He shakes and spills with so much excitement and fervor.

He gets me every.single.time.

Oh, this boy is going to give me a nervous breakdown very soon.

Today?  Yeah, it goes down in the books.  I raised my voice more times than I wanted.  I scolded him and put him in his crib area for a time out.  And it sucked.

I know he doesn’t get it.  He’s a curious little boy…

I get it.

When the rain finally let up this afternoon, we ran amuck in the park.  It was a much needed release for both of us.

As we swung on the swing, there was a pair of nannies just hanging out.  “Their” kids were nowhere in sight…until, a little girl about Jack’s age carelessly darted behind his swing.

“ANA!  WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DOIN’ THAT?  YOU NEED TO WATCH!”  The nanny yelled to the oblivious toddler.

I told her it was fine and no harm was done.

A few minutes later, the little girl was off eating rocks.

“ANA, GET OVER HERE!” The nanny yelled.

The nanny never moved, she never stopped her conversation, nothing.

I cringed because I see that so often at our park.  The nannies just earning their buck.   And don’t get me wrong, it’s not all of the caregivers that do that.  But it’s enough to notice.  Enough for me to cringe and remember who said what and when.

And so, tonight after I whined to Jeff how ‘hard’ it was to clean up milk puddles all day and ignore piles of laundry, I remembered that nanny.

I’ve worked 6 really hard years to learn patience as a wife.  Ok, 13 if you count our dating years.  The point is, I accept the fact that learning patience is a never-ending learning process.  But I’m getting there.

As a mom, I haven’t learned it yet.  I’m as oblivious as sweet little Ana about to get smashed in the head by my kid’s swing!

On days like today when I reflect back, I cringe at the choices I made and how little patience I had for such silly things.  I had almost no patience, even hours later when all he wanted to do was sit on my lap.

It’ll be a long learning process with many more milk puddles, but I’ll get it—eventually.

But, I don’t really have a choice, now do I?