Well, I am adjusting to life with an additional J. It has been described to me as "a new normal" and this is true. Life as I knew it no longer exists and now I have to figure out how to maintain some sort of safe, sane, and somewhat sanitary environment for my little people.
We get the cheap basic cable and because they block out all the extra channels, there are a few we get that we aren't supposed to. The Style network is one of them. We like to watch "Clean House" in which a team of four people visits a family with intense clutter, has a yard sale, and uses the money to fix up and reorganize their space. The show is hosted by Nicey Nash, a large lipped always well dressed African American woman who is never without a flower in her hair. She always has a heart to heart with these people who live in clutter and she is always using the adjectives "foolishness" and "mayhem" to describe their home.
This is my new normal. FOOLISHNESS. And MAYHEM.
Contributing to much of my mayhem is my toddler. I now would like to remind those who may not know or remember, that I previously described Cash as a big squooshy marshmallow. And he is. Although a marshmallow I believe, is a little bit lighter. Anyways, Cash has weighed and measured average for his age, so when I make comments about how huge he is, it's not really that he's all that big, it's just the way he carries himself. And throws himself around. He is a full blown male toddler. I add the "male" part because he has an aspect that is quite masculine. He likes to destroy, take apart, and tear things apart. I think the squooshy marshmallow part applied to Cash, the baby. As my friend Carey says, we won the baby lottery. He was laid back, quiet, and calm. Cash the toddler is not so much. If the bathroom door is open, he is in the toilet. If the pantry is open, he is in it. If it's locked, he tries the trash can. He is fully equipped with that toddler radar that hones in on anything that is NOT a good idea for him to climb on, touch, eat, or throw.
What spurred this whole blog is what happened yesterday. I was attempting to teach Jackson school. We were sitting on the bed in the playroom (trying to be away from Cash) using some paper triangles to make shapes of things. We had a child's encyclopedia open next to us, which we were referencing, trying to imitate their shapes. Cash bounds up on the bed, much to my frustration, and does a spread eagle on top of the encyclopedia, hoisting his ample belly right on top of the pages, wrinkling them up as he grabs for our project. Jackson got frustrated too and said, "Cash, you're like King Kong!"
Unfortunately, ever since Jackson made this observation, I keep having these visions of Cash, our little King Kong, climbing into Penelope's crib, (the top of the Empire State Building, if you will) grabbing her by the torso, and waving her around while he speaks his toddler-ease that no one can really understand. While he may be a gentle giant at heart, I fear for my newborn's safety, I must confess.