Little Wonders

Today, for whatever reason, I was at my wit's end.

Wait a minute. Hummmm....let me think about that. Oh, I got it. I was at my wit's end because my three kids had eaten all the way through my wits until there was only a little crumb left. Yup, that's the reason why.

Although truth be told we were having a perfectly fine day. And in fact we've had quite a few good days lately. I think we may be turning a bit of a corner in our family now that our youngest is just over 2 years old. Although today a bit of my sleeve got caught in the door and pulled me back around that proverbial corner again, showing me that I shouldn't count my preschoolers before they've hatched.

Today's wit-eating all revolved around a crying 2 year old after he woke up early from his nap, which he sorely needed since he was up this morning at 5:45am. As far as the morning routine goes, he's been pretty consistent with getting up at 6:20am. He teased us a couple days and went until 7:30, but then he was right back at the 6am times just when we were starting to catch up on our sleep.

The 6:20's are still earlier than any of us need to be up, and way earlier than I want to be up. And then the occasional 5:30's are just down right rude. But to his defense they are driven by bad dreams that he can't seem to get over, and always seem to happen at that time. Then the morning starts even earlier than usual. In fact, my loving, charming, handsome and incredibly virile husband has been the morning volunteer, getting up with the little lad while I catch some more shut-eye. He's a saint. I'm hoping, more for their sake than mine, that our son goes into a later morning routine once the daylight time shifts and the sun isn't rising at 5:30am anymore. We'll see.

So, back to today. Here I was with a crying 2 year old, and I was just moments away from starting a scavenger hunt with my oldest. I had suggested it and gotten everyone excited about the idea, and then someone came along and rubbed his snotty tears all over the plan. And I mean that literally, since all the little scraps of paper that my oldest had prepared where lost somewhere in the juggle of my balancing act with the 30+ pound boy-wonder (plus his two favorite stuffed animals) and a sippy cup and a snack, all bobbling around as I tried to find something, anything, that he would eat so his mood would cheer up.

I endured about 45 minutes of this crying, with him occasionally pointing to something that he wanted to eat or do, only to change his mind when I went and got it and put it in front of him. All the while still juggling his dense little body and those of his two stuffed friends. No matter what I offered or tried, they were all short-lived remedies.

And of course during this time my sweet oldest child is getting her little sister's clues ready for the scavenger hunt. I really wanted to help get hers ready, since I was put in charge of doing them for my oldest and she was in charge of doing one for her little sister, but I had absolutely no patience left. Every time she would ask me something I'd just bark at her "not now!". But she was a trooper and stuck to her task at hand.

Then my younger daughter decided to start some coloring with the book I was trying to show my son to calm him down. Which was fine, but she didn't want to share and let her brother color, or rather scribble, on it, so we got yet another showering of tears.

At this point all three kids were in separate places, all asking me for things, or else just slobbering and snotting all over me. No one was especially upset besides my son, but I was just wearing out and wanting to run away screaming.

I felt pulled in too many directions. And frustrated from all the crying. A headache was starting. And I had a momentary flash of going to our bathroom and closing the door behind me. I knew he would just be blubbering on the other side of it, but I thought for a second there that I might find some kind of reprieve. Alas, I knew I was fooling myself. Plus I knew my sitter was only a few minutes away from showing up. Which in itself was enough to hold on for, as well as enough to keep me from locking myself in any room, lest she show up to such a lovely scene.

So I grabbed my son, still with his 2 stuffed friends, and took him out to the garage. I pulled out a chair and sat in the driveway. And then I tried the old distraction thing and said "do you see an airplane? a bird? a helicopter?". We don't get too many helicopters around our house, but he's really into them lately, so I thought I'd give it a try. What the hell.

But I got nada. Still the crying.

And just then, out of nowhere, flies a monarch butterfly. It makes a few circles right in front of us, and then pulls one of its friends out of hiding and they do a little fluttery dance right before our eyes. We were both mesmerized, watching them flit around with effortless beauty.

Then the tears stopped. And the smiles started. And we enjoyed the show.

Then I thought to myself, isn't that just so typical of parenthood? Just when you are all worn out and you think you have nothing left, something beautiful happens and you are reminded of life's smallest wonders.

You get an amazing smile and some cheerful giggles, a little snuggle, and the world is right again. You are restored to your normal level of sanity.

Then you go on with your scavenger hunt, looking forward to a little treat at the end.

My kids got some Oreos after their scavenger hunt.

I got the ability to leave three happy children with the babysitter and get some quality "me" time.

God bless the butterflies and babysitters of the world.