Posted by: Hannah | 06/27/2013

toddlers, amirite?

Someone linked to this meme on Facebook yesterday and I couldn’t even laugh; I just nodded in rueful fashion and went on with my day.



That cat never gets old.

Anyway, George will be eighteen months old next week, and oh boy, is he making us pay and pay AND PAY for the crime of bringing him into a harsh, cruel word that on occasion has to deny him things.

Here’s a link to some developmental milestones for 18 month olds. He does all of these things (and more, his language skills are very good), but let me draw your attention to three in particular:

  • protests when frustrated
  • becomes anxious when separated from parents
  • seems selfish at times

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!! Alternatively, may I suggest:

  • screams uncontrollably like a cat caught in a boiler when each whim, want, or desire is not satisfied without delay, regardless of whether or not said whim is even possible. Example: five minutes of purple-faced rage because Mommy refused to put a life-sized baby doll inside a dinky car.
  • runs to the bathroom door whenever Mommy tries to have a pee, which now that she’s had three children is several times a day. Beats on the door and hollers “Mom-Mom-Mom-MOMMOMMOOOOOOM” until she comes back.
  • Wants all the toys, all the breakfast cereals, Mom’s fork, Daisy’s lunch, Harry’s sneakers, the dog’s chew toy, and anything else he sees.

THERE. Fixed that for you, developmental specialists.

Don’t get me wrong; he can be – and often is – a sweet little fellow. He freely gives hugs & kisses when Michael leaves in the morning and comes home at night. He loves animals, his brothers, his blankie, and playing outdoors. His laugh is contagious. We love him. WE LOVE HIM I TELL YOU.

But holy smokes, lately he is testing the limits of every person in this house.

He’s just so. damn. loud. And insistent. And unreasonable. All the things that one expects from a toddler, but somehow forgets from child to child. He gets up every morning by 5:30AM at the latest and goes to bed at 7PM. The hours in between, excepting only naptime, are an endurance test for those of us who live with him.

Oh, and did I mention the 18 month sleep regression? I didn’t? Oh, OK. Let’s just say then that I spent last night in the rocking chair for the first time in months because somebody decided to wake screaming every hour or so.

George is such a toddler right now that Michael and I had this conversation on Saturday morning around 11AM, by which time the little darling had been bellowing his displeasure at life for six and a half hours (yes, he got up at 4:30 on Saturday morning, please kill me).

Michael – So, no more kids, huh?

Me – No. NO. I love my children. But I am SO DONE.

Michael – Yeah, I’m finally there with you. I always understood intellectually what you meant when you said ‘no more kids’, but until this morning I never really felt it emotionally.

Me – Welcome to the ‘I’m all done having kids’ club.

Michael – It’s very freeing! So, a vasectomy, then?

Me – (doing happy dance) – YES. That would be awesome. But what about your second wife? What about your long-term plan to be Tony Bennett? What about the magical “if we win the lottery we can have more kids” thing?

Michael – But all of those things would still mean I’d have a toddler again. And you know what? I DON’T WANT THAT EVER AGAIN EVER.

And hey! In a month we’re driving halfway across the country with all three kids for two weeks because you know, that seemed like a rational idea six months ago when we planned it.





  1. So my kids are 6.5 years apart and it’s astounding how many things I managed to totally obliterate from my memory about the toddler years. Youngest turns 4 in a couple of weeks and I’m looking so forward to rounding the corner out of the 1.5-3 year zone in the nearish future. If everyone remembered with perfect clarity some of the hell of those years, I’m convinced that only a very small portion of the population would ever have more than one child. They are a TRIAL. Cute, but a trial.

    H got snipped three months before second was born because we were done with kids for medical-type reasons, but if that hadn’t been the case, I’m fairly certain he would have got snipped when youngest was G’s age because we were mentally so done with toddlers!

    • You have hit it right on the head – 1.5 to 3 is a long, screamy time, isn’t it? We are appreciating the good moments with G, but we also talk wistfully fairly often about how fun it’s going to be when he’s four, Ron is eight, and Harry is eleven – good times, I’m telling you.

  2. As someone said – I forget who, Lyn maybe? – V is for VICTORY. I honestly don’t remember the toddler stage very much. Jake was born when Mark was 17.5 months, so I really don’t remember anything at all except I was tired. And Jake was such a nightmare of a baby that things improved by the time he was a toddler. He slept through the night, without screaming and waking, at age FOUR AND A HALF. Good lord, how am I even still here to tell the tale? Kids.

    • Are you looking forward to when they’re teenagers and you get yourself an airhorn for early Saturday morning wakeups? BECAUSE I KNOW I AM.

  3. My two boys were awesome sleepers and so I was PETRIFIED about having a third because our luck was going to run out if we pressed our luck with a third. So my husband had the big V. He says it hurt much less than breaking his collarbone BUT it did turn him off the smelled of charred meat for a few months.

    • O_O I hope Michael doesn’t read this comment. That made me cringe.

  4. Agh! Gah! How many more ways can I rearrange those letters! Hga! The sleep thing alone – agh! Okay, sorry. And yes, I’m completely familiar with loving a person more than you love your own breath and movement and still wishing to god that you could just stick them in a small dark box for a bit and have some goddamned peace and quiet. And also, my husband had a vasectomy nine days ago and I’m not allowed to blog about it yet and IT’S KILLING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t tell him I told you. And we’re sad about it because we don’t have a toddler right now. Tell me more. Keep telling me. Wah.

    • I’m sorry you’re sad. I can totally loan you my toddler for the long weekend. You will be cured, I promise you. It’s 6:30AM, I’ve already been up for an hour, and the little darling asked for cereal for breakfast. Then he screamed when I gave him the cereal. Then he roared when I took it away again. Repeat.

      Feel better? 😉

  5. Also, I finally bought my Blissdom ticket. Yay!

  6. PH doesn’t call it a “vasectomy” he calls it “converting to a sports model” and he is VERY in favour of doing so the moment I produce a live second sproutling.

  7. […] and all tasty treats are “hot dogs” for some reason. He’s still doing the angry yelling thing of course, but the 18 month sleep regression was blissfully short and seems to be largely behind […]

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