Great Expectations?

I had rather high expectations for myself in the grand-mothering department; a kind of Super Grandma.  All knowing, all seeing, all doing, all the time.  I relentlessly tell Daughter to nap when baby naps.  Laundry can wait.  Keep him on a schedule.  Yadda, yadda, yadda.  Surely my previous mothering experience should keep me in good stead.

I have completely forgotten the mental energy needed to take care of a toddler.  I told
Husband, in a moment of clarity, if I didn't have any housework or cooking, this would be a piece of cake.  I've been trying to write this post for four days and I'm not sure if I've put deodorant on at all this week.  I have completely ignored the rule of napping while Milo naps, by furiously trying to fit eight hours of cleaning into two.  I forgot that a trip to the grocers without children is like a vacation on a tropical island.

I am utterly and completely helpless against Milo's charms.  He pats his little hand on the ground as I try to clean the breakfast, (lunch and dinner) dishes, or fold the laundry, imploring me, "Gaga sit."  There's also "Gaga up!"  Milo is thirty pounds of love you cannot resist.  My back and arms can attest to that.

So, as I bring this post to it's belated conclusion, let me apologize now to Daughter for dispensing advice I clearly never follow myself.