When tragedy strikes, and you’re going to be in the trenches for the long haul, the first thing that teachers/psychologists/child life specialists tell you is how critical it is to keep things as normal as possible. Every fiber of your being wants to lavish them with gifts and lollipops and magical unicorns, but if you do that not only will you have a gremlin on your hands, but you will remove the sense of security they gain from routine, discipline, and seeing that life goes on. Even with cancer.
The Nerd and I are trying very hard to do this. Goo still gets punished. The girls still have chores. They still have to eat their vegetables (although Goo’s are now slathered in butter to fatten her up). I still lose my ever-loving mind on at least a weekly basis. It’s all very healthy.
Smush is doing her part to keep things normal, too. In an attempt to obviously make Goo feel as secure as possible, she has whole heartedly embraced her role as the toddler force of destruction that one would expect from an almost three-year-old. Insider tip: Three is much, much worse than two. She’s almost there. God help me, she’s almost there.
The other day I heard her happily singing a song in the living room. I decided to peek in and listen for the lyrics, at which point I found her throwing my brand new pillows and blanket all over the room, merrily announcing:
I loooooove making messes, I love making messes!
Ahem. I’m aware. That’s why it’s taken Mommy and Daddy almost TEN YEARS to finally get something just a little bit decorative in the living room. Something that isn’t a stained or broken sofa. Or a brand new ottoman that is busted beyond repair two weeks after I purchase it. Ten years, girlfriend. Put. Those. Pillows. Back. Now. I dream of a brand spanking new, leather sectional. But that’s a HUGE ticket item, so I will continue waiting. But in the meantime, keep your grubby little hands off my pillows. Kapeesh?
Goo and Punkin got a kick out of her little display, so she decided to up the ante a few days later. She bounded out of the bathroom on a Wednesday morning exclaiming, “Mommy, I brush-ded my hair!”
Indeed she did. With a toothbrush. And toothpaste. All up in there. What is it with this kid and toothbrushes?
I basically have my very own little Stitch. This clip is, in essence, what Smush is like on a daily basis. Just to be clear, Stitch is not the adorable little girl in this movie. It’s the creature of mass destruction.
Welcome to my life.