This morning Matty refused to wear the red striped shirt because he wanted to wear a shark shirt – a shark shirt?! Dude. How does he know that somewhere in our house there is a shark shirt? Is there a shark shirt? Which shark shirt? Sharks. Sharks?! Where did my baby go? 5 minutes later he refused to wear his pizza shoes (literally Vans with pizza on them – so adorable) but I put them on his feet anyway. For the next 10 minutes he walked around the house whining, “My blue shoes. I want my blue shoes. Blue shoes??” His blue shoes haven’t fit him in months. Seriously, where did my baby go? His favorite thing to do in the evenings is “wrestle” – commonly referred to as rough housing. He pushes his limits all day, every day – I’m scared to leave him alone with his brother at times. Last week, the day he woke up with the rash, I thought to myself he is fucking crazy today. Last night I realized this is probably just the next phase – and it’s not called crazy, it’s called toddler.
One week from today he will be two. ONE WEEK. ONE FREAKING WEEK?! The wild and crazy, rough and rowdy little boy I always dreamed he’d become, he is.
I read an article last week and it described a parent’s relationship with time perfectly – it’s borrowed.
It’s borrowed. 7 days from now I’ll be the proud owner of a stubborn, psychotic, free and hilarious two-year old. On the surface, I’m busy picking out birthday gifts, putting together a small celebration, ordering cupcakes and keeping my head on straight – but in the back of my mind the idea of having a two year old and working on borrowed time is cycling on repeat, faster and faster. Honestly, it sort of feels like the countdown to Y2K – it’s scary and unknown territory but I know it will all be fine. It will probably be fucking fantastic….but I guess we’ll know in one week.
One more week…