Going with the flow- - the new mantra

Some days it’s just not worth the fight.

ON a day like today, when I spent my lunch hour pronouncing a young patient who was taken far too soon, and the theme of my afternoon was “green discharge from you-know-where” interspersed with “I was in Mexico last year and I coughed once last night OH MY GOD, Doc, do you think I have the SWINE FLU??”, I arrive home and there’s just no fight left in me.

Toby is all about being outside theses days.  Which is great.  But Toby is ALSO all about doing everything HIMSELF.  And not having an afternoon nap.  And not wearing a hat.  Or shoes.  Or anything that takes me more than 10 seconds to get on him.  While throwing a hissy fit.

Meanwhile, Rob (understandably),  is all about “Oh good you’re home - -see you later” and taking off to the backyard.  So I’m left with the I’m-overtired-but-I-want-to-go-outside-but-I’m-overtired-but-I’ll-do-anything-in-my-power-to-go-outside-EXCEPT-if-it-involves-sitting-still-for-any-length-of-time-or-holding-your-hand-or-doing-anything-you-tell-me-to-do.

SO today I tried a new tactic :  I decided to go with the flow.

There were only two rules I enforced : the 30 minutes before bath time he could do WHATEVER he liked outside as long as a) he was wearing his hat and  b) he was neither ON the road nor IN the lake.

It was quite interesting, really.  I learned a few things about my son.  The first is that he has COMPLETELY and UTTERLY indelible feet. Part of my “go with the flow’ attitude involved abandoning the notion of him wearing any clothing- - including shoes.  So with only his bright blue fuzzy buns diaper and his tilly hat on (because DAMMIT I was going to win ONE battle tonight) he RACED past me to experience the great outdoors- - exhibitionist style.  Afraid he was going to break rule #2 I TRIED to race after him but the gravelly, stone covered driveway stopped me and my bare feet dead in my tracks. Ouch.  What are his feet made of, steel?  This kid cries if I wash his face but running barefoot through a big heaping pile of gravel - -no problem.  His newfound freedom took him and his superhero feet right to the tree-line where he chose to pick up rocks and launch them as forcefully as he could- - all 5 cm that his wee arms could throw them.  That lasted all of 25 seconds.   He then barreled past me onto the grass, trampling through the thistles and angry weeds and down the hill (falling numerous times on the way) all the way to dad’s “garden” (is basically a 10x5foot patch of MUD right now).  Head first, he went, into the garden.  Grinning with victory, he then proceeded to EAT the eggshells and coffee grinds that he found in his hair.  Did I forget to mention that Rob had scattered the compost over it earlier in the day?

Still… I went with the flow, as I steered him away from the lake…

Onto the shed where he ignored his own gardening tools and instead, attempted to pick up the GIANT shovel.  Not defeated by it, he resorted to eating the bits of “garden” on the bottom of it before taking off to the hammock.   He then threw his entire muddy-compost-covered-body onto it before promptly falling off the other side.

He then ran UP the hill, falling, again, over and over as he went, until he ran head first into this father.

All 2 feet of  him arrived gleefully, covered in dirt, compost,  and grass stains, sporting only his diaper and his hat.  Oh, and a HUGE grin on his face.  It was, quite possibly, the best 5 minutes of his life.

When Rob looked up at me inquisitively I merely shrugged my shoulders and said,  “Is it bath time yet?”