Parenting. And the benefits of yogurt facials. Or something like that.

Parenting is an interesting business. People (and the Beatles) say "all you need is love" to raise a child. Other people say the "firm hand of discipline." And still others, when you announce that you are soon-to-be-parents, just shake their heads and whisper, "Good luck." A bit sarcastically, I might add. 

People are constantly telling me that I "have my hands full" with my two girls. 

No sh*t. 

Thanks for telling me. As if I didn't know that already. 

Sometimes, parenting is incredibly rewarding. And squeezing your kids to your chest as you all laugh and giggle together is probably one of the best things about life and being a parent. 

But sometimes, parenting isn't so great. 

And sometimes, you just have to bang your head against a wall. 

Literally. 

Lexi was eating lunch in the kitchen today. I gave her a leftover piece of french toast (warmed up in the toaster) with blueberry jelly on it and a little dollop of greek yogurt on the side for her to dip the pieces into. She sat down and began to eat happily, stabbing her little fork into each bread cube and then dunking it into the pile of yogurt. 

I'm not really sure what happened next. I think it had something to do with my sister talking to me in the dining room, Lyla choking on something she ate off the floor in the kitchen pantry, and Eric telling me what he needed from the hardware store by this afternoon. Whatever it was, I was not paying attention to Lexi. 

And this is where I constantly fall short as a parent. I don't give Lexi constant supervision. Maybe it's because she is almost three, is so articulate, and talks and reasons like she knows what she's doing. The problem with this is that I begin to treat her as an individual who is much older than she is and actually DOES know what she's doing. Re-phrase. Lexi KNOWS what she's doing. There is NO doubt about that. Let's just say her decisions aren't always the best. Basically, her decisions reflect the fact that she is not quite three years old. Blame that on her frontal lobe development.

So there I was, chasing Lyla, picking up the pieces of my house that Lexi tornadoed through all morning (did I mention she is feeling a whole lot better?!), and completely ignoring Lexi as she is quietly eating her lunch in the kitchen. Lesson to take away from this: NEVER assume that your not-quite-three-year-old is doing what you think she is doing. Ever. Never ever. (I say this a lot, don't I?)

I happened to walk back into the kitchen (no more than five minutes since I left her in there in the first place) and BEHOLD. 

There was Lexi. 

On her hands and knees on TOP of the table, rubbing her face in her plate of yogurt...

chewed up and spit out pieces of french toast all over the table around her, covering the table, stool, and floor. Lexi heard me come in and looked up at me, her face and hair a white gooey mess. 

"OH MY ...." I exclaimed. I backed up back into the hall and shut my eyes. 

"What happened?" Eric came up behind me and entered into the kitchen. 

"I don't want to open my eyes again," I said. And slowly and methodically, not knowing quite how to respond, I started banging my head against the wall. 

Thump.

Thump. 

Thump.

Thump.

Then my head began to hurt with all the banging, so I quickly excused myself to the bathroom where I burst out into silent hysterical laughter. 

Eric took one look at Lexi, tried to say something appropriate for the situation, and ended up with me in the bathroom, in fits of laughter. Actually I think he came in at first because he wasn't sure if I was convulsing or crying or what. When he saw that I was laughing (hey, it's a coping mechanism) he joined in. At least we are together in not knowing what on earth we are doing with this kid. Seriously.

I eventually got myself under control and managed to extricate Lexi from the mess and plop her in the bathtub for a pre-nap bathe.  

"That was funny what I did with my lunch...." Lexi giggled as I dried her off from her bath. 

"What??!? NO! That was not funny!" I said. "We eat our food appropriately, not like puppies, do you understand?"

Lexi giggled. "Yes, Mama."

Moral of the story: Don't sweat the small stuff. And don't leave your kids alone with yogurt. 

Happy Parenting!