Last week, Porter started attending a new day care facility.
Although I lucked out in getting Stella into an amazing preschool program, I knew that with Porter, I couldn’t count on that luck again a second time, and so I needed to jump on my opportunity to get him ‘into the queue’ (so to speak). Plus, the logistics of having them in two different towns was really beginning to take its toll. It was a truly difficult decision to make, as Grani-K has been the central force in allowing us to easily and comfortably balance our lives between work and home. She took care of Stella from the time she was 8 months old, and Porter from shortly after his 4 month birthday. She has practically become part of our family, and we will forever be thankful for her seemingly endless generosity, kindness and flexibility. We will all miss you, Kathy.
And so began a new routine.
Not only had Porter just officially transitioned from infant to toddler, but he was tossed into a whole new routine, new environment, new napping, new faces, new diet – you name it. And have I mentioned the teething? The big, ugly monster molars that have been s-l-o-w-l-y creeping through his gumline? And that stubborn fluid buildup in his ears? Blech. What does all of this add up to? An irritable, obstinate, toddler who moves like the wind and exhibits an endless supply of tenacity.
It’s a good thing he still has all that cute going on, because it has just started sinking in that we are all on the the bus back to toddlerville – and I’ll give you one guess who’s driving. Our home is no longer a safe haven where I can freely tend to things while he plays innocently on the floor. I have learned the hard way how much damage can be done in under 30 seconds. There are times where he is actually mid-stride towards my jewelry box before his feet even hit the ground. Aside from his bedroom, every door in our house has to be securely shut. And not just mostly shut either, because Porter? Yeah, he knows the difference. Even in his room (one of the only ones he is still allowed free access to), he has managed to wound himself, and/or seriously mangle the various items he has figured out how to pull off shelves. He has yanked Stella’s lamp from her nightstand and shattered the bulb (twice), removed an entire layer of skin by jamming his his thumb into Stella’s CD player, and taken a header into something (I’m suspecting the coffee table) hard enough to have a huge scabby remnant just above his left eye. Each time, ironically, getting mad at me for attempting to remove him from the scene of the crime. I get read the riot act by a 1-year-old about 500 times a day. And take it from me, his manifesto – it’s a long one.
His new day care also allows him a leisurely morning snooze, which means there is no more easing us into our afternoon with a well-timed nap. Instead we get home in a giant, rolling ball of elbows, backpacks, and empty stomachs. The first couple of days I had to strategize my unloading process so as to not leave The Destroyer to his own devices for any length of time. Plus, he gets mad if Stella gets to leave the car before he does. Tough. I need time to secure the perimeter before I can turn him loose.
Fortunately, his perpetual motion personality also comes with an amazing amount of humorous moments. We often find ourselves laughing just about the time we might otherwise want to set him on the curb. Just the other night, Stella and I were quietly laying in her bed (something I routinely do with her for a few minutes just before she goes to sleep) listening to the one-man house party going on in Porter’s crib. Stella and I both began to giggle uncontrollably listening to him talk to himself, the wall, the stuffed animals. Then we watched his silhouette as he stood there waving – at what, we still are unsure. More times than I’d like to count, I have walked by his room only to spy an unusual amount of daylight pouring out from underneath his door. Ah yes, instead of napping, he has yanked down the curtains and is now busy surveying the backyard. Again.
So you had better get prepared for me to start making all those whiny toddler posts again. Like the ones where I bitch and moan about never being able to get anything done because of the Toddler Effect, but rest assured, I will also be making the ones where I get to wax poetic about how it really is the time that, later down the road, I will want back the most.