Notes from our (thankfully only temporarily) single-parent household.

Oh, y'all. My wonderful husband is traveling for work. Our little girl prefers her Daddy, as do many little girls, and she really knows how to push Mommy's buttons.

Night One: 
She toddled up to me and reached for me, so I leaned down to pick her up and... She smacked me in the face. 

She is eighteen months old and she wanted to smack me and she knew how to get my face within her reach. I know that sounds crazy but it is 100% true. 

So she got punished, as she knew she would, and indeed as I have not had to do in a while, and she cried but she eventually apologized ("Sowwy, Mommy."), so we went on our merry way through life. 

A little while later, a little before 7pm, she started asking to go to bed -- I know, it's weird, but she does it all the time; the other night she started asking at 5:45pm! -- and since it was late enough and she was seriously under-napped today, I got her traditional cup of milk before bed and sat her on my lap to drink it. She leaned back and I felt something wet. Girlfriend was dribbling milk down the side of her face, into her hair and onto me. I said, "Hey! Drink your milk, no dribbling!" She sat up, looked me in the eye and dribbled a HUGE mouthful of milk onto my arm, my leg and the carpet. 

To bed. Right now. Good night, sweet monster.

Night Two:

Actually ALL-DARN-DAY Two, because little sweet face has pinkeye and thus stayed home with Mama all day, and Mama took a sick day from work even though she had tons and tons to do. We got up around 6:00am sometime, which is of course about an hour and a half earlier than she normally wakes up, and then a couple of hours later we went to the pediatrician because my insistence that it was pinkeye went unheeded -- and indeed, her eye looked pretty good when we got there, of course, so the nurse was almost justified in looking at me like I was a loon -- and they wouldn't call in a scrip without seeing her. (I mean, seriously, Nurse Ratched. If I had Münchausen by Proxy or something, would this be the first time in her entire eighteen months of life that I've ever come in the sick side of the office?) After the pediatrician, we went to the grocery store to pick up her drops from the pharmacy and to buy her favorite macaroni and cheese because sick kids get treats.

We spent the afternoon playing and watching Sofia the First and Frozen until I wanted to cry. One of us took a great nap (even though both of us needed one), and one of us dealt with the noisy Orkin man who didn't care that I had a baby napping.

In the evening, Daddy called us on Skype and both of our hearts broke a little when he said, "Hello!" on the computer and she gasped, jumped up and ran to where she could see the front door. She was so disappointed when she realized he wasn't actually home.

And later -- sorry, I'm going to veer a little close to TMI territory with this story -- I had to use the bathroom and couldn't wait until she was in bed, so I made sure everything dangerous or spill-y was up high and went to use the closest bathroom, keeping the door ajar. At first she came to investigate me, then she went wandering back out to where Frozen was on -- again -- and then all of a sudden I heard Sofia the First instead. Now, this isn't a matter of just changing the channel and pushing one button. She had to change the input on the receiver and the TV and turn on the cable box. We have a universal remote but it sometimes stymies ME, because you have to hold it at the proper angle for longer than you think before everything changes inputs. I came out of the bathroom to find her sitting on the couch with the remote on her lap, placidly watching Sofia. I mean... WHAT.

Night Three: 

Daddy comes home tomorrow, hallelujah! 

She has been in a weird mood since I picked her up from daycare. I was chatting to the nanny about the fact that she chewed through a pacifier -- more on her beaver-like tendencies in an upcoming post -- and she was alternately hugging my neck and trying to discreetly smack me in the face somehow without getting in trouble. I am really not loving this return to the face-smacking.

Then we came home and she ate dinner with singleminded focus, and then we had a bath because she was getting crusty in the hair department. Love this toddler age where they will not be fed but their self-feeding is as messy as is humanly possible. 

After the bath, we Skyped with Daddy again while she kicked me to try to keep me from putting on her diaper. 

"KEIRA! Stop kicking Mommy! Do you want a smack on your bare buns?"
"Ohhhh-kay." 

Sigh.

UPDATED TO ADD: I don't know how any of y'all single mothers do it.