Remember our journey to gymnastics last week? If not, check it out here.
This morning I jacked up Stella's nap, because sometimes it has to be done and there is nothing you can do to change that. The jacking of the nap, though at times essential, will never go unpunished. This was no exception.
By the time Stella and I got home from picking up Cole from preschool, she was a full blown wreck. She was snotty (literally, as well as in disposition,) and so very tired. She needed a shot of Benedryll and a nap as soon as possible.
So I put her down around 2:30 and by 3:30 she was up screaming. This was the type of freak out that I hadn't seen since Aiden was a baby. The rolling on the floor, don't touch me, don't try to help me melt down. It was super.
After many attempts at pacifying her with juice, walks outside, favorite toys, food, etc. to no avail, it was time to go to gymnastics. I put screaming Stella in the car and instructed Aiden and Cole to get their shoes on immediately.
Cole was elated, Aiden looked like he had been punched in the stomach. Aiden loathes gymnastics time, primarily because it has nothing to do with him. He feels tortured at having to sit and watch his brother jump on a trampoline while he mopes. It's a very difficult life.
Once everyone was in the car I felt like, despite being 5 minutes late, things were looking up. Stella stopped crying as hard and accepted a squeezable applesauce. Aiden had dulled his complaining to a quiet moan. Cole was humming some tune about God's arms, or legs, or some other body part.
This lasted all of 3 minutes.
Aiden began shouting, "ow, ow, ow!!!!" Then he began crying, really crying.
All I said was, "what Aiden?" and Stella began to scream again.
Granted I might have had some negative intonation in my voice. I may, or may not, have been totally annoyed at Aiden's spontaneous complaining and whining after listening to Stella scream for an hour, is there anything more unnerving?
I quickly told Aiden that he needed to work it out or he could start using his allowance to pay for a babysitter during gymnastics because I couldn't handle taking him if this was going to be his behavior.
If there is one thing Aiden likes, it's his allowance. He loves his money accumulation. The idea of having to pay for a babysitter brought him back to his quiet moans and some slight tears.
Unfortunately, Stella didn't care. She continued to cry until Cole started singing This Little Light of Mine. He's a real charmer.
Well, he's a charmer until he decided to count his toes. He began counting and decided he had eight toes. He immediately announced this discovery, even shooting a quick glance back at Aiden to catch his reaction.
Aiden's reaction? Immediate rage, of course. Eight toes is ridiculous, and Aidne does not do ridiculous.
A firey exchange started over whether or not Cole in fact had eight toes or ten. I thought Aiden's head might explode and I was fairly confident that once Stella started crying again it might make mine explode as well.
They went back and forth until both were in tears. Once we pulled in to the gymnastics facility though there was an odd calm that came over both of them. Cole quickly explained that he just had his hands inside his car seat, so maybe he did have ten toes. Aiden felt 100% vindicated. Joy all around, even Stella for some odd reason. I was totally confused and pissed at all the crazy I have to tote around town.
Thankfully, Cole once again enjoyed his class. He was the only one there today so he had 40 minutes of private time bounding around the room. Aiden was pacified to play my phone, because Angry Birds never argues with him about the appropriate number of digits. Stella was just happy to walk around and say hello to people and make them give her high five, her latest joy in life.
Unfortunately for me, there was a two year old that decided that I was her Mother, and her Mother was totally cool with that. I basically was managing another child asking for food, taking Stella's blanket, trying to look at my phone, and hugging Stella to the point of knockdown.
Why do people let their kids do this? Doesn't my cranky expression upon arrival tell everyone that I have all the kids I can handle?
Or not handle?
I am determined that next week's trip to gymnastic will be a success.
Or the next week.
Or the next.
It could happen, right?