It was at an amusement park in Prince Edward Island where my two-year-old daughter grabbed my hand and led me into a glass-walled maze. My husband had already entered ahead with our oldest two girls, so my fearless youngest daughter was left with her anxious, hesitant mother to guide her through the creepy fun house. (When you have two or more kids of a certain age, you’re almost always dragged into the action.)
At first, we giddily moved through the maze with our arms out in front, carefully avoiding the abrupt dead ends. I even did the bit where I slammed my foot into a deceptively clear glass panel and threw my head back in fake agony. She loved it. (Why do kids love it when we pretend to get hurt?)
But after a few wrong moves and getting absolutely nowhere, I started to feel a little disoriented. The entire experience lasted only a few minutes but I’m embarrassed to say I was more than a little relieved when we eventually found the exit. True to form, my two-year-old’s immediate response was, “Again! Again!”
That dizzy, disoriented feeling hasn’t really left me since our vacation. (Although it could also have to do with the many, many rounds on the carousel and tea cup rides. “Again! Again!”) I’m also still jet-lagged, often waking up at 4AM with the sensation that I should go running, dye my hair blonde or start my own blueberry business. (I would love to embrace an onslaught of brilliant ideas at 4AM if they were actually brilliant.)
I’m also dealing with a little bit of calorie-withdrawal. After subsisting almost solely on a diet of s’mores, shellfish and COWS ice cream (not consumed all together, I’m not an animal) I’m trying to right-size my menu now that we’re back in Calgary. While I’m not technically hangry, I’m a little hanky (hungry/cranky).
To top it all off, we chose this week to take our two-year-old out of her crib and out of her diapers in a potty-training, bed-upgrade boot camp. Another one of my brilliant 4AM ideas. To be fair, though, our toilet-training attempts have never been that strategic. We usually make the move when our kids are about a certain age and we’ve simply run out of diapers.
I guess my sluggish adjustment to regular life is to be expected, considering everything we have on our plate. (Or don’t have on our plate. I wish I could shake this craving for two scoops of Messie Bessie in a signature waffle cone.) And it’s also likely temporary. I’m sure my energy levels and REM cycles will return to normal soon.
In the meantime, I’ll continue to teeter around my tottering toddler as she excitedly runs to the toilet. Obviously, the best part is hitting the flush.
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