Motherhood is a funny thing.

I have to say motherhood is funny. Toddlers are funny. Putting toddlers in a room full of other toddlers is absolutely hilarious. Or not. But still, it is a pretty little funny thing. And today? Well today I discovered how in a matter of 45 minutes, you can lose your brain to motherhood. To toddlers. To a library full of little humans.

And although you may say. So? It's just 45 minutes. Let me just say this....don't underestimate what 45 minutes can do to a human being. A sane human being {or at least, I was prior to this morning}. Don't underestimate exactly how much can go wrong in 45 minutes. How clear your vision gets in 3/4 of the hour of the day. How not-so-together you end up feeling.

And so I sit here now breaking one of my biggest rules. Nap when the toddler naps.

You see. I worked last night. I have been awake since 4 pm the day before. It is approximately 1130 right now. The toddler is in bed napping {must be nice}, while I sit here drinking coffee {it's a new habit I picked up as of... oh... 30 minutes ago}, analyzing every minute of this morning. Thinking.


Where exactly did I go wrong?


I mean really. I get ourselves all pretty. Elliana in a cute little black and white get-up with hose and hair bow to complete the package {i know it's the library... you don't have to give me that look}. And me. Well, equally dressed to impress {the toddlers of course}.  Black skinny jeans, brown leather boots, nice top with a scarf around the neck.

And yes, I did run back in the house with E in hand when I realized I almost left the house without my watch and bracelets. I mean this was like a blind date with future mom BFF's. Right? Right...


No worries, my little break in the plan worked out just fine as we showed up at 10:01. Fashionably late? Nope. Just in time.

And as I walk in I notice in front of my eyes is a line of these little tiny human beings sitting indian style with eyes as big as saucers staring at the little old granny reading about easter bunnies and easter eggs and hoppity-skoppity-doo.

I mean seriously.... the angels might as well have been singing. Who are these children? Am I in the right room? Did I walk through the wrong door? Oy.

So I plop myself and E down on the floor, and did a little silent prayer... "Please Jesus, I will never think any more dirty thoughts involving Marc Wahlberg EVER again. If you just keep my child contained. Thanks in advance."


Evidence. We sat during story time.

The Man Upstairs was not buying any of it... because 5 minutes into "story time" the squirming began. And the silent "but mommmm" type of noises started. Her eyes were glued on all the little monsters in the room, and I just knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to go play. Pet them. Touch them. Anything and everything that had nothing to do with granny reading little books to good little angel children. AHEM.

It was like a kid in a candy store. Seriously. And I'm the bad guy keeping her away from all the candy right in front of her eyes. This child loves little humans.

Sigh. So I resorted to the....carrying the tot around. Showing her things. Talking her through this.

It worked. Don't get me wrong... but I was like really? REALLY E? What is not exciting about story time? What is not exciting about sitting still and being silent? Clearly, all the cool kids are doing it.

And then I was saved by the bell. "CRAFT TIME."

Thank you J for stepping in. Really. And so we sit at the table. And we do crafts. A lot of me dodging bullets.... aka crayons. But we manage to get through it. We get the easter egg done. Or perhaps, lets insert here the truth... mama gets the easter egg done with E doing a few scribbles here and a few jabs there.

I think at this point my eyes wandered around the room, and I quickly realized that here I am SITTING with my toddler in my lap. On a baby chair. Next to a little dirty monster to my right and a mean-mugging one to my left.

And I can't help but wonder how my world came down to this.


Before you know it, it was over, and I am pretty sure we were the first ones out the room. Okay. We were the first ones out the room. And E? Well she giggled... correction... cackled like a little diva at the thought of me squirming in my pants.

And then I sat in the car for a good 5 minutes thinking about what just happened. Honestly, I realized looking back it wasn't all that bad. She wasn't the only squirmy toddler in the room. And she was in fact the youngest of the crowd. And really barely made a loud noise.

But I just can't help but wonder. Why can't my child sit still? Why does she insist on getting loose and running buck wild? Why does she not want to be like those angel children and sit like a good little school girl with her legs crossed indian style and stare up with joy when a little librarian grandma read to her pretty little books about bunnies and eggs?

Oh thats right. Because she is my offspring. My flesh and blood. And if this is an indicator... a glimpse.. of what the future holds for us?

Then I'll be doing a lot more coffee drinking around these parts. Perhaps with a dash of this and a dash of that.

So what did we learn from this? Well A. I either need to take her to "toddler time" every week and train her like a little soldier like those other army children {obviously, they must be trained}. Or B. I need to pull a Duggar and start a little army of my own.

Then E can pet all the little humans her little heart desires. And I can paint pretty little egg pictures.

Oh, motherhood. What a funny little thing you are.

My only remaining piece of sanity. In the form of an Egg. 

On a bright side... we did check off "sign up for reading time" at the library. Score.