Tuesday was a normal terrible two’s day with normal terrible two’s tantrums. Michael refused a nap, which wasn’t surprising after his marathon three hour nap on Monday. He did fight some diaper changes and ran from me when it was time for jammies. But that’s pretty normal these days.
Yesterday started off well. In fact, Michael and my mom had a wonderful day. Michael had his gym class, which he loves. Afterward, he stayed in the daycare at the community center while my mom took her gym class. (Aerobics, gym. All the same in my book) They wrapped up the fun with lunch at McDonald’s.
Michael should have been exhausted, and he should have taken a nap. But he really doesn’t care about what he should do, and decided to play with the doors on my mom’s closet instead. Which was fine until it was time to come home. I’m not sure of the exact details, but it sounded bad. There was fighting and escaping and manhandling galore. By the time my mom pulled up to my house with him, she was beyond frustrated.
I’ve had Michael push all my buttons before, so I know she really needed to vent. As I was trying to unhook Michael from his car seat, she started to unload on me. She was speaking fast, trying to get it all out. I was doing my best to listen to her because she really needed a sounding board.
And that’s when I heard the scratching noise. My head wiped around and I instantly focused in on the source of the sound. There, on the gutter, was Mr. Fuzzy. He was scratching around, flicking that puffy little tail around and then POOF, he was gone. He squeezed under the edge of the roof, right into my neighbor’s attic. I finally caught MF making entry. BUSTED!
My mom continued to rant while Michael fought to make me put him down. “I want to play in the snow! I want to play in the snow!” and “He hit me so hard I think I’ll have bruises…” yet all I could do was focus on that stupid squirrel. I watched and listened to see if I was wrong about him entering the attic, but I wasn’t. He was in there. I knew it.
Several tantrums later, I managed to get my mom settled down, and satisfied Michael’s desire to play in the snow. (Keeping an eye out for MF the whole time.) Once Michael was inside and distracted, I returned to my attic to look for traces of squirrel activity, but found none. MF has breached my neighbors attic, but not mine. I’ll be leaving her a note about what I saw so she can have the problem resolved before he does too much damage. I feel bad that he’s in her attic, but relieved that I know what’s going on, and that it’s not going on in my attic.
As for Michael? He wasn’t too bad last night, but this morning he threw the tantrum to end all tantrums. I had to wake him up to get him ready, and he did not want to get up. The child that refuses to nap freaked out about wanting to GO. BACK. TO. BED. He screamed, he cried. I took him downstairs and he ran right back upstairs and tried to climb into his crib. I gave him a moment to calm down and he threw every book off of his nightstand. All 30+ of them. He threw his beloved binky and shirt and even punched me in the face. I was so shocked I didn’t even know how to react.
Clearly, the child needs more sleep. But I don’t know how to help him get it. I can’t force him to nap. I knew that the process of dropping his nap would suck, but I didn’t think it would be this bad. If this keeps up, MF won't be the only squirrelly one in the neighborhood. Soon, Andy might find me scampering around the attic, scratching up insulation and chewing on electric wires.
I think it's time to start the "and this too shall pass" mantra.