It’s not like it’s news to me, but I was reminded today that Falco is crazy and demanding and exhausting. I love him. I love staying home with him. But seriously, can’t a mommy get a break? He must say “Mommy!” at least 300 times per day. (I actually did math to come up with that guess, which is about 30 times per waking hour, which is probably an underestimate.) Even if I am right there, he says “mommymommymommy” just as his idle rambling. If I leave the room, I can hear him yelling, “MOMMY!” when he’s not following me (all the while saying my name).

I love to hear him say Mommy, truly I do. It’s not that I want him to say it less; I just wish he could do without me for a few minutes here and there. Not only does he not want me to be out of his sight, he wants to “help” with whatever I’m doing. If I’m reading, he’s taking the book from me. If I’m on my laptop, he wants me to pick him up so he can see and type. If I’m sweeping, he’s trying to take the broom from me and intentionally walking through and scattering the dirt pile. If I’m cooking, he’s wedging himself between me and the counter pulling on my legs and whining for attention. This is why we’re never home. He’s bored and restless and drives me crazy in our house, but when we go out he is an angel most of the time.

Today was playgroup, which I was grateful for because he only napped about an hour and I was tired and out of ideas or energy for afternoon entertainment. Another friend was hosting, so we went to this little boy’s house. The regular crew was there, and it was obvious (as usual) that Falco was the busiest, loudest, most wild of the bunch. I used to think it was because he was a boy and most of his friends were girls, but now he has two quiet, demure boys in playgroup, which kills that theory. This particular boy whose house we went to is quiet, plays with one toy at a time, and doesn’t get into things like pens and TV buttons at toddler level. Falco of course dumped out all the toys he could find, tore apart the train tracks that were set up, pulled books off the shelf, and periodically let out shrill screams while doing it.

It’s not that he’s being bad exactly. I mean, he is playing with toys and not actually breaking anything or being unsafe. It’s just that he acts like a wild animal. Nonetheless, he’s MY wild animal, and I’m doing my best to live up to the high demands of being Falco’s Mommy. Good thing he’s so funny and cute.