A Tale of Two Fionnys

 It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.

Sound familiar?  Well, my friend, either you stayed awake during at least a portion of your 7^th grade English class, or you might just be the parent of a two-year-old.

Two.  Ah two.  If someone asks me about my favorite age thus far as Fionny’s mom, I would say without hesitation, “This.  Right now.”  However, if they were to ask me in the same breath about the most challenging, most trying time so far as Fionny’s mom, I wouldn’t miss a beat.  “This.  Right now.”

It is so simultaneously joyous and frustrating to be Fionny’s mom right now.  So simultaneously awe-inspiring and wrinkle-inducing.  I love him to pieces, I want to tear him to pieces.  What’s a mom to do?

For those of you who don’t have a two-year-old – or for those of you who have a two-year-old with a completely different temperament (by the way, go to hell!)  -- let me try to explain what it means to be Fionn’s mom right now.   The highs and the lows.  The high fives and the so many, many “no-nos.”

It's complex, you see.  Because just as every coin has two sides, most of the things that make Fionn difficult are also the things that make him so amazing and such an incredible kid. 

Need an example?  Well, for starters, our Fionn is highly adaptable.  His beloved Grammie Jean once referred to him as this, and I latched onto the term.  Because it's true.  Take him anywhere, introduce him to anyone, give him anything to eat, put him anywhere to sleep.  And he's cool.  In fact, he's more than cool.  He would prefer it.  You see, Fionn isn't much for same old, same old.  This has been true ever since he was a wee little babe.  Even as a 4-month-old, I remember rotating constantly around the house.  The basement, the playroom, the living room, the nursery.  Fionn needed constant newness, constant stimulation.  Entertain me, he said with his eyes (and his cries) long before he could say it with words.  Okay, so he's still not saying it with those exact words.  But he does say, "Mama play trucks.  Mama play trains."  All.  The.  Time.  Or, in the case of the photo below, "Mama play in wah-wah."

But back to being adaptable.  Right.  So it's a wonderful thing.  Our kid is fearless in new situations, friendly to new people, delights in exploring and investigating.  I love, love, love this quality about Fionny.  I love, love it, love it, that is, until he decides to explore and investigate in a crowded department store.  Or, say, a busy parking lot.  That is not so fun, folks.  Not so fun at all.  Those are the times when I grit my teeth, squeeze my kid a perhaps little too hard upon retrieving him from wherever he has fled, and feel a twinge of jealousy for those kiddos who stick close to the hips of their Mamas in strange places.  Oh, my boy is so not that kid. 

C'mon, don't be a hater.  You know you love me, Mama.

Fionn is also a high-energy kid.  A lot of the time, this is an awesome quality.  He is the first to dance around the room when music is being played.  He also loves to run laps around the playground.  He is hilarious, amazing, and full of life.  I admire him so much.  That said, there are definitely times when it is exhausting to be the mom of the kid who is always doing the laps around the playground.  Especially when the laps are occurring around the circumference of a doctor's office or a church instead of a playground.  Sometimes it would be nice to be the mom of the kid who is quietly reading a book or drawing a picture.  My kid is not that kid.  Instead, as my dear grandmother would have said, our Fionn doesn't even pause for a comma most of the time.  And sometimes, friends, I need a comma.  Sometimes I could even use a semi-colon.  Hell, even a period. 

But then again...I get to be the mom of this kid. 

And that, my friends, is a pretty awesome thing too.  Exclamation point.

What else, what else?  Well, let's see.  Fionn is also a very opinionated kid.  He is no wallflower, our boy.  No, sir.  Fionn will tell you how he wants it, when he wants it, and where to put it once you get it for him. And, again, he has always been this way.  Even when he was a one-month-old baby, I used to feel like Fionn was yelling at me when he cried.  There was nothing pathetic or sad about Fionn's crying even as an infant.  Instead, he already seemed a little pissed off when he didn't get what he wanted as quickly as he wanted it.  Well, that hasn't changed, folks.  Only now he can tell me exactly how pissed off he is and exactly what it is that has pissed him off.  This is simultaneously awesome and annoying.  But here is one thing I know.  Ain't nobody gonna walk over Seamus Fionn Crimmins.  I can rest easy at night knowing that, friends.

'Bout time you got me my milkshake, be-yatch!

All that said, here's the other side to our boy.  He is a complete and utter tendertheart -- when he wants to be.  Even though he's this rough-and tough little boy who loves to play trucks, run on the playground, and wrestle with his Dada...there are still these undeniable moments of pure sweetness with Fionn.  And they come more often these days.  These are the moments where I look down from washing dishes at the sink to find my boy giving me a spontaneous leg hug -- blonde head nestled in fabric of my skirt, chubby arms squeezing my knees.  These are the moments when Fionn offers me the last bite of his treat (usually a cookie), saying, "Mama bite me coco?"  These are the moments right before nap where I find myself forehead to forehead with my boy as we snuggle on his bed.  We lock eyes and smile.  And all the rest of the world just...melts away. 

I mean, I dare you not to love me.  Really, I dare you.  Double dog dare.

So there you have it, friends.  The best of times and the worst of times.  But mostly the best.  Yes, mostly the best.