Leaving the House

I've told quite a few people that I just don't plan on leaving the house for a year.  I'm pretty sure everyone thought I was joking.  

I was NOT joking.  

It's just so hard to take Durham and Wrenn anywhere together when there's only one adult attending to them.  I did it when Ainsley was 2 and Durham was a baby, but things are very different now.  Durham is something else.  He's a holy terror.  I could put him in a ring with other two year olds and he'd eat them up.  I just cannot believe his temper tantrums.  I'm just waiting on the day he gives me a black eye for trying to get him to come inside the house.  Or when I get kicked in the face for asking him to hold my hand as we walk in a public place.  

And so we stay in the house.  We don't even go into the grassy area of my fenced in backyard.  Tried that.  Tried that about 10 times.  Each time ended poorly.  Very poorly.  

And so we stay in the house.  Luckily we have a deck.  With a gate, we've managed to create our own little outdoor area that isn't nearly so tantrum-inducing.  [I'm beginning to notice that gates have been solving all my Durham problems lately.  I guess he's just one of those kids baby gates are made for.]

So we play on the deck.  It's great for bubble-blowing and playdoughing.  It's great for being within 10 steps of the bottle supplies and the bathroom.  

My kids think I'm the meanest mom ever for not letting them play in the backyard when there's no other adults around to help.  In fact, Ainsley has told me that I'm the real-life Mother Gothel.  

Thanks, babe.  

We've even resorted to only going to church when we have booked another family to assist us in child-corralling.  When we do go to church, I usually end up taking Durham.  He's got the most piss and vinegar of the bunch.  Sometime before the sermon, Durham and I often have to head out into the hallways to have a come-to-Jesus meeting.  He'll start by trying to throw pamphlets all over the floor.  When I won't allow it, he'll lay on the floor, scream, and kick.  He won't even get back up.  He's impossible to pick him up during these tantrums, so we end up having to sit on the floor together, Durham screaming and kicking, and Mama holding him so he doesn't hurt himself.  It's quite a spectacle.  

Have I told you that he's a holy terror right now?

It's not so bad until another mother walks by.  A mother who obviously had children who weren't holy terrors.  I try not to make eye contact with these mothers.  It wouldn't be good for either of us.

And don't try to tell me that all 2 year olds are like this.  I'm smarter than that.  

I just keep saying to myself that his spunk will become an asset someday.  Someday he'll find an outlet for all that piss and vinegar.  

And so we don't leave the house.  Here are a few pictures of my children who aren't allowed out in public.  

Holding her head up like a champ.  2 months old.  

Playdough on the deck.  Playing with her sister.  4 years old.  

Refusing to look at the camera.  Pushing the camera to the side.  Knocking over a scooter that wouldn't cooperate with him.  2 years old.