I Meant To Do That

Some days are just tough.  Like the kind of tough that leaves you with pretty much no lasting impression from the day other than how tough it was.  Out of the past ten days I've had a nice stack of Tough.

"Terrible Twos" get named that for a reason.  And, no, I am not opting into some sort of reap-the-whirlwind fate by actually calling them "terrible" instead of something kitsch like the "terrific twos" or "totally tubular twos".  This pretty much is a it-is-what-it-is situation.  And I'm not calling my kid terrible, for heaven's sake; just this funky, awkward, uncomfortable stage of stretching and growing and testing and learning.  Whether the terrible twos hit at eighteen months or eight or eighteen years they're just, well, cruddy.  Like so many other things they are merely a stage, a phase.  They come and they go.  They're an alternate reality (not the new reality) that (thankfully) doesn't last forever.  But I'm telling you, in the vortex of that alternate reality it is not easy to maintain sanity or to take metered breaths.  It is most unpleasant to have a series of minutes, or hours, or days in which tiny tyrants stomp around and aim to rule unchallenged and unthwarted, based on nothing but their own whims, fancies, or grievances.  (Did I also mention you cannot use reason or logic with a toddler?)

But really, I digress.  I don't intend or want to write a diatribe on the woes of toddlerhood.  Some days are just tough.

But then they get better.

It's spring break around here.  Finally.  And there aren't too many big-deal plans in the works, other than just a whole lot of intentional living...like reading books, playing outside, coloring, taking long walks, talking about Easter, and watching chickens.  Nothing major, just intentional.

So time is the thing we're planning on using-or-losing this week.
mistress chicken no-name
So far this hasn't gotten old
This is LadyBird.
Her name fits her...and I kind of think she knows it.
Since there's not a rooster among them,
these gals collectively are "The Unclaimed Treasures"

That's intensity.  It ended in a Charlie Brown-esque miss,
but he kept trying until he made contact.
There are still Easter eggs on the
school playground from last week's
before-spring-break festivities.
An impromptu treasure hunt for us!

I love the look on his face
trying to not laugh at the toddler meltdown
Flying dad, cheering daughter
A favorite spot on our long walks
Noah Lane...home again, home again...

What will you be doing intentionally this week?


  1. Love love love this post. I "two" am in the midst of the terribles. Maple is in "time out" more than she is out of it, and the whole household shakes with her weeping and wailing.

    Thank GOD it's just a phase, right? I find a little repreive by whispering a prayer under my breath, "God please give her a child just like her someday." It's a mother's right, you know.

    This week, I am intentionally holding my babies while they're still babies. Even if it means waking them up to rock them (because, for my two-year-old, that's the only time she's still enough to be held).

    Love you dearly, dearie!

  2. Oh Brandy. Misery loves company...just knowing Maple's in the boat with Ava.

    And I LOVE your intentions for the week. I can see you now; peeling sweet girls out of beds and rocking them in their oblivion. Beautiful.

    I love YOU!


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