Trying to Catch My Breath

My son is yelling and I'm pretty sure doing the toddler version of cursing me. His routine has been badly interrupted as of late, as I just got back from a week long conference in Idaho. That means he spent the two days that he'd normally spend with me in the care of my parents. Bed time wasn't adhered to, naps were hit and miss and all of the sugar in the house was had. Now mommy is home and in "what baby wants, baby gets mode." This is a terrible parenting motto but I went through the long painful labor so it's my prerogative. In two days, Monkey and I will be getting in my car and headed to Crescent City to visit with Binky and the Little Loves. More sugar, less sleeping.

At what point in parenting do you say screw the norm and embrace the chaos? It's clear that Monkey thrives on a schedule but since the effects of not keeping one aren't apparent right away because of him being naturally good-natured, I tend to live dangerously and let my kid eat copious amounts of whip cream and leave the apple pie (while being encouraged to do so by his maternal grammy, the same maternal grammy who used to take the cookie out of my hand and make me eat pears instead. I hate pears). It's also clear copious amounts of whip cream result in running in circles while babbling incoherently and then stopping to roll around on the floor while giggling uncontrollably. Sigh. Will I ever learn?

Thankfully, after this trip life goes back to normal. MOPs, story time at the library, and asking me a thousand times if we can vacuum. The entire house. Again. This is life.

He's getting so big!