There's just no winning...

The weather in New York City has been glorious and the entire island is experiencing a collective good mood. With warmer temperatures new baby bumps are revealed, children can go hatless, and blueberries become cheaper at Whole Foods.

The past month has brought 3 huge snowstorms that kept most of us cooped up in our 700 square foot apartments with little ones who were bored blind. They rebelled against us for reasons we understood but could do absolutely nothing about. Basically, this was the winter we all considered drugs.

But just like Sandra Bullock winning an Oscar, out came the 60 degree weather and surprised us all.

At 1:59 pm Oliver woke from his nap and I ran into his room with a smile from ear to ear. After the world's quickest diaper change I grabbed his stroller, jacket, and snack and we were out the door. 10 minutes has got to be a record. We were headed to the playground.

The problem was everyone else had the same idea.

Our most favorite playground, Washington Market, was so crowded Oliver would have gotten stomped alive. So we continued to Battery Park which is no less lovely, just an extra 15 minute walk.

This was crowded too. Hmmm...I started to think. This could get dicey. I let Oliver loose and memories of summertime flooded back.

Within one minute Oliver was into the sandpit.  I was pleased that he was raking his hands through the sand. He was clearly over gulping it down by the fistful phase.  That's what I call progress. However with progress comes struggle. Apparently we are now into the throwing sand phase. Shit.

After removing Oliver from the sandpit came the fountain. Since starting pre-pre-school Oliver has had a major obsession with water. They taught him how to wash his hands and if he could he would wash them all day long. Now, not only was he covered head to toe in sand, we were both all wet too.

And, finally, the swings. It has been months since we hit the swings, Oliver's clear and favorite playground activity.  The problem here wasn't the actual swinging, it was the actual waiting. Waiting on line is torturous for a 17 month old even if they're the first and only one in it. It was verging on embarrassing how he was unraveling.  The mother whose baby was in the swing took pity on us and took her baby out much too early to ease Oliver's obvious physical pain.

So. the good news is we're back to the playground.  The bad news?  We're back to the playground.

I guess every season has it's perks...

Bad Mommy

Thursday Oliver vomited.

Friday Oliver had pink eye.

Saturday Oliver's boogers started again.

Sunday Oliver fell at the park and got a bloody nose.

Let's just say it's been a hell of a week. For everyone involved.

And back at school today, Oliver was cranky, but really can you blame him?

However, he's definitely regressed a bit.

See it took a couple of weeks to get Oliver to stop throwing his sippy cup 

clear across the room when he finished. He thought it was hilarious and I 

clearly didn't. I refuse to raise a kid with bad manners so the rule became, 

"you throw it...you lose it." And it worked. For the past month he's been 

handing me the cup when he finishes or he places it carefully on the table.

But not the past few days.

No he's pissed. And he's taking it out on us.

He's pissed about the eye drops we have to put in his eyes in the morning.

He's pissed we have to wipe his nose every 5 minutes.

He's pissed we had to give him a bath to rinse off the blood.

Clearly he has reason to be pissed. We are terrible uncaring parents.

So today while picking up a new shirt at a favorite store of mine where hip 

young single thangs work, Oliver decided to chuck his sippy cup. 
What did I do? 

I took it away. This set off a tantrum of epic proportions which I ignored. 

He was simply pissed I took the sippy away. Anyone could see that. But as 

I paid for the shirt, the two stupid young thangs were looking at me in horror 

for not giving the cup back to my baby. They glared at me and the whole time 
I could see their thoughts flashing in neon above their perfectly plucked 

brows "What a horrible mom she is!"

Now it was my turn to be the pissed off one.

Here I was, being a mom, teaching my child a lesson on manners 
when he was CLEARLY misbehaving and I was being judged. After this 
whole past week of taking care of every possible bodily fluid of Oliver's, 
I was being judged by a sippy cup. The rest of my day I carried a chip on 
my shoulder to everyone.

Tonight at dinner I let the chip go. You know why? When Oliver wound 
up that arm of his to chuck the sippy. I glared at him, as only a mom can 
do, and you know what? He got it. 

He carefully unwound that arm and set the sippy on the table.

Those girls can go to hell.