It was the best of times, it was the toddlerest of times

This has been a week, my friends.

It started so well. On Sunday night, Lena surprised us by finally reaching a long overdue milestone—she slept in her own room, in her own bed, alone, all night from 8pm to 7am with NO wake ups. Not one. She’s 17 months old and this is a first. Please, spare me the stories of your kid who has slept through the night since they were 4 months old because SCREW YOU. Just kidding. (But not really).

We figured this was a one time deal so we had low expectations for the following night. Amazingly, the kidlet snoozed from 8:15pm to 5:40am again in her own bed, alone. No wake ups.

Well, last night was a different story.

She fought sleep and finally drifted off at 8:30, only to wake up three hours later, at which time I decided to crawl in bed with her. She wanted to nurse all night, of course. When I wouldn’t let her, she screamed and flailed. When I relented, she dozed but insisted on lying DIRECTLY ON TOP of me and twitching until 6:30 in the morning when she unceremoniously opened her eyes and literally walked out of bed. Thanks, kid.

So after a crap night I had the great idea to wrangle the child, a stroller, and a bag that weighed roughly the same as a small pony, onto the train and into Center City so we could play at the splash pad. There were highs—Lena’s smiling, eager face as she saw the train approach; watching her joyfully collect water in her cup and dump it out. Then there were the lows—the screaming, smacking, and throwing herself on the dirty ground when I attempted to remove her from a dangerous situation; the running off half naked down the Ben Franklin Parkway as I attempted to change her diaper. Oh, and the 15 minutes of crying on the train ride home because she was tired and over it.

Wawa!!!
Wawa!!!
OVER. IT.
OVER. IT.

My point of telling this boring, tedious story is that joy is often wrapped up in a brown paper bag filled with a steaming pile of dog shit. This dichotomy is not only healthy, but so universal and ordinary, that it’s a wonder why we act so surprised when cruddy things happen alongside wonderful things. Let’s not let the toddlerest of moments ruin our day, our week, our lives.

Cherish the good. Remember that the bad is almost always a phase. And drink copious amounts of coffee and gin.

–Heather