Walk A Mile In My Shoes

A Day in the Life of a Toddler: As Told by Audrey Murphy

( A small excerpt of time and struggles of a 19 month old)

6:30 am: Wake up. Notice once again there is no one in your room waiting to greet the day with you while providing a full buffet of food. Service here is terrible. Must call grandma. Or CPS.

6:32 am: Occupy yourself by disassembling the window blinds.

6:33 am: You seem to have somehow tied yourself up in said blinds. You heard the neighbor kids have pottery barn blinds. I bet their blinds wouldn’t dissemble so easily. Make note to talk to mother about quality products for yours truly.

6:34: Gently request your mother’s presence in your room. When that doesn’t work try out your new Xena Warrior Princess cry.

6:35 am: Just call me Queen Xena for the day, thank you very much.

7:00 am: Crawl into high chair. Sample the stale cereal provided to you by your former incubator.

7:03am: Request a proper breakfast and for your mother to put on a bra. Gravity must be heavier in the kitchen: That or she misplaced her dignity last week with your favorite sippy cup. Get it together woman.

7:05am: Polish off mandarin oranges and cereal. Sample the pop tart provided. Opt to rub pop tart in your hair instead. Attempt to admire your loveliness in the oven reflection. Unfortunately, your mother hasn’t cleaned the oven since 2012 so a proper visage cannot be seen.

7:10am: Request a new mother.

7:15am: The other child who never leaves is awake. Some refer to her as your sister. You are not convinced. Take “sister’s” stuffed elephant. Throw it on the ground while she cries. Stomp on it. Walk away. Allow one backwards glance and small smirk.

7:30 Physical altercation with your DNA sharer ensues.

7:35am: Xena wins again.

8:05am: Other children begin to arrive-wait to reserve judgement on this.

8:10am: Shove 15 pieces of cereal down your diaper.

9:30am: No one offers you a piggy bag ride. You opt to ride the dog.

11am: Begin to feel peckish. Eat the stashed cereal, some crackers, and 3 pieces of toilet paper.

11:45am: Lunchtime. Eat 28 chicken nuggets and nothing else.

12pm: “nap time”

12pm: Opt out of nap time.

12:30pm: Let mom know you’ve skipped nap by making sounds similar to a dying yeti. When she doesn’t immediately come retrieve you from your den of torture reach over to your dresser.

 Yeah that dresser she wasn’t smart enough to move out of your arms reach. About to have her third kid and still a rookie. Some people.

12:35pm: Speaking of third kid. BAD IDEA. I'll address this with you later but really doesn’t work for me. In order to work through this middle child syndrome pull the clothes out from all the drawers on top of you. Destruction is the best therapy.

12:37pm: Xena cry

12:40 When your giver of life finally decides to spring you, increase noise volume. You know there are other kids in this house who made the mistake of sleeping during nap time. Fools. Good thing they have you to assist them in rectifying that mistake.

12:45 Ok mom’s sweating. Things are getting good. Mission is accomplished. Yep, she got the snacks. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. Rookie.

12:47pm:  Dump all the Scooby snacks out on the bed. Roll around in them.

1:00 pm: Get one squashed in between your toes

1:01m: Cry. Eat that snack first. It cannot be trusted.

1:05pm: Gather the rest of the snacks in your fist. Wave the fist at your mother. Laugh when she appears frightened. Rookie. Shove all ten on the snacks in your mouth.

1:10 pm: Fall over, snacking has overcome you for a short second. Sit up immediately when your mother runs over to make sure you aren’t choking. She really should run faster. And loose 10lbs.

2:00pm: Rejoin your fellow toddlers. Let them know you missed them by pooping.

2:10 pm: build a block tower

2:12pm: When mom doesn’t immediately take note of how brilliantly you’re playing chuck a block at her head. Laugh.

2:14 pm: Time out, also known as mother’s futile attempt to “discipline”. Make note to “discipline” her at a later time. You know very well she has a bag of Cheetos stashed in the washing machine, so her hypocritical sermons of sharing will fall on deaf ears. Deaf ears and dirty diapers. Time out ends in 3…2…..1…..

2:15 pm: Poop

2:16pm:  Diaper change, which you would think she would be faster at by this point. I swear good service is so hard to find. Stick your hands in your own poop to encourage her to move things along.

2:22pm: Poop again. Alligator roll while she attempts to change you. Once you’ve secured your freedom, grab the dirty diaper and run. Pause only for half a second to appreciate the feeling of air flow between your cheeks. And not the cute ones on your face. Carry on.

2:23pm: She should really get a gym membership or just stop crying. She would have more air supply and probably be fast enough to catch you.

2:30pm: Xena down! Diaper removed from possession.

3:45pm: Note the lack of sensory table in the room. Remedy this problem by playing in the toilet water. Shove half a roll of toilet paper, 4 cotton balls, and your diaper into the toilet. Leave quickly. It is more fun to let them discover your handiwork at a later time.

4:05pm: Eat crayons.

4:30pm: Dads home. Cry while pointing at mom.