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We survived the drive to and from Michigan! Although, if you recall, we were planning to leave around 3 a.m. to reduce the amount of “awake” driving time. Er, except it didn’t work out that way. At all. They didn’t sleep. Nope. Just Chatty Cathy back there and her Alert Sister. We hadn’t even considered the possibility that they wouldn’t fall back to sleep. It hadn’t even entered our minds. My chief concern was how late they would sleep given that the sun rises at 6 a.m., not that they wouldn’t sleep at all. Bean fell asleep for exactly 50 minutes, after 6.5 hours of driving, and Monkey fell asleep for 40 minutes, after driving for 7.5 hours. Oh, and P.S. They didn’t really sleep on the way home either (see below).

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The wedding itself was lovely. Monkey was a fabuloso flower girl. She didn’t get scared or freaked out at all. I’m so glad that she got to have that experience and I hope she remembers it even when she’s older. I have to admit though, it was difficult trying to juggle the two of them between nail and hair appointments (me), golf (Eric), the ceremony (with all of us standing up except Bean who clawed her way out of my mom’s arms and made a beeline for Husband), and the dinner. By the time we got to dinner Bean was D-O-N-E and her non-stop shrieking, screaming and crying during the best man and maid of honor toasts made that abundantly clear to the entire room.

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I guess the only real driving hiccup we had was when we were only 25 minutes from home. Bean had fallen asleep after we left Green Bay where we stopped for dinner, but then she woke up when we had to make a pit stop in Oshkosh for Monkey to pee. Bean wasn’t happy about waking up, and continued to be unhappy and inconsolable. You could say that she was MORE THAN BEYOND D-O-N-E and we had to stop in Fond du Lac and take her out of the car because she was crying so hard that she made herself throw up. When we pulled into the gas station in Fond du Lac we happened to park next to a mom nursing her baby in the backseat of her car. You could say that she was empathizing with us as Husband started ripping things out of the back of the van so that he could put one of the seats up and entertain Bean for the remainder of the drive.

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When we returned from our trip to Michigan the roof hadn’t been touched since we left and the concrete patio also was not completed. Too-hot weather while we were gone meant that the concrete would set up too fast, and then rain interfered the following week and the pour had to be postponed. Other work obligations prevented our professional roofer from doing anything with our roof while we were gone, and after we got back. It took another whole week and a lot of tense moments before the projects were completed. Finally, three weeks after we started, everything was done.

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So, if you recall, I said that Bean being in her Terrible Twos wasn’t that bad because I had experienced it before. Pfffffffffft. I was either on a trip-packing high, or just plain high. On a good day I say she’s “independent,” “determined,” “focused.” On a bad day I say she’s a PITA who’s stubborn, won’t listen, and throws a kicking, screaming fit when I try to help her with things. She would rather throw herself in a corner and refuse to look at me than let me help her with that disaster-waiting-to-happen Gogurt. Baaaah.

Honestly, I thought Monkey was going to be my difficult child, because she exhibits/exhibited all the same traits, but Bean takes it to the next level. She kicks, throws her arms, throws herself down, hides her face, and flat-out ignores us. Her favorite game is when we say “STOP” and she just laughs and runs faster — around the house, into the road, and circling parked cars at the State Fair parking lot.

Her favorite word is “MINE” which she shouts while standing in the middle of the room clutching something that no one else is even trying to get. Which leads to her volume. Good God, is she loud. I think she is quite literally THE LOUDEST child I’ve ever encountered. She’s loud even in situations where it’s not warranted — like, when we’re sitting right next to her and totally paying attention to her. And she cannot be persuaded to be quieter. In fact, I think asking her to be quiet only invigorates her loudness.

Oh, and I can’t forget the throwing. When she’s mad? She throws stuff. Or knocks it over. Or both.

The cherry on top? She’s a hitter. We have no idea where she gets this from because we don’t hit and Monkey never hit.

Bean, this is Mr. Timeout. Mr. Timeout, meet Bean.

When describing this egregious behavior to the girls’ beloved pediatrician, she gave me a little wink and said “It’s good that you’re going through this so the next time you see a child hitting you don’t smugly think, ‘Look at those terrible parents.’”

And that is exactly what I’d like to say to the friends we ran into at the ball park after Bean very purposefully poured her open cup of water down my chest and then proceeded to hit me. DON’T JUDGE ME.

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Oh, and the pediatrician said that we can expect biting next.

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So one of Monkey’s latest things is to tell poop jokes. Basically the “joke” is a bunch of nonsensical words all jumbled together along with the word “poop,” followed by her laughing hysterically at herself. I don’t really know where she gets this from (although she has been spending a lot of time with her older cousins lately). Then today she wanted me to sing a silly song using the words “private area.” I’m sure this is going to go over GREAT when she starts pre-school in three weeks.

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8 responses »

    • SuperMom I definitely am not! Monkey isn’t so much trouble these days and is getting more and more independent. Or maybe I’m just delusional. 😉

  1. Oh no, this makes me nervous that if and when we have a second child, he/she will be a “challenge”! Boston is so easy-peasy, so I’m sure we’re destined for a little devil next go-around. LOL (and yes, you ARE SuperMom!)

    • I don’t know – it’s hard to know how much of this is her true personality, and how much is just her going through the rights of passage into toddlerhood. I really felt like Carys was so challenging, but that Elise is more challenging. Who knows, maybe it’s selective memory. 😉 I guess only time will tell.

  2. Pingback: Unfinished « On the Night You Were Born

  3. Pingback: A Different Kind of Terrible « On the Night You Were Born

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