How to Tame a Toddler (and other myths in parenting)

I used to think I had started to hone my parenting skills. Fischer was a much more mellow toddler than Sawyer, and I credited Ross and myself having the experience of one child under our belts. It turns out, I was wrong. Fischer was just a more mellow toddler. That, or we have substantially regressed in our skills since having the twins. It could be that.

They are terrorists.

Nobody and nothing is off limits.

Our walls are covered in crayon and pencil. Our new kitchen table has been branded with marker. There is crayon on the windows. My cupboards and drawers are empty. My counter tops are full. They have figured out how to climb up on the table, and how to climb onto the windowsill and over the back of the couch, how to climb out of their cribs, and how to climb out of their clothes!

Our boys did not do these things.

I wasn't prepared.

I thought we had a plan - a system. These girls would fall in line.

I misjudged them.

I've misjudged other parents too. I looked down on other parents whose kids did these things, and patted myself on the back. I now want to kick my own butt...but the girls are successfully doing that for me. God has a way of showing us our flaws.

They bring me to my wits end...then they give me one of these faces:

Or one of these:

And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with that?!

Don't make eye contact, don't make...too late! Have everything you want, angel babies!

They're good. They're real good.

And I'm a mess. So is our house.

Comments

Tough Love

We were on our way home from a birthday party not long ago, and Fischer began complaining from the backseat that one of the kids had tripped him and laughed about it. Ross looked at him in the rearview mirror and responded, "Life's hard, Buddy. You're going to have to toughen up." To which his brother responded, "Yeah. You have no idea. Just wait until you're eight." At that, they both sat back in their booster seats and contemplated their life situation for the remainder of the drive home. Evidently, life is smooth sailing in those early single digits, but once you reach the ripe old age of, "I can mostly tie my own shoes and reach the kitchen faucet," it's all hard knocks and rough living. I know this must be true because Sawyer also told his aunt the other day, "It's time to get on it and get myself a car. I'm going to get a Cord Tacoma." I think what he wanted to say, but didn't have the words was,

All I Want For Christmas...

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Christmas Miracle

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Not so adventures of the St. Clair clan...

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