How to Train Your Pterodactyls

Every once in a while, the planets align, or the Earth's tectonic plates shift, or the government sprays mind-altering chemicals into the water supply, and my children turn into gurgling, growling, one-eyed monsters.

No, I don't believe in conspiracy theories. (Well, not most of them). No, they don't really lose one of their eyes. I'm also don't have an ounce of sarcasm in me. 

Today is one of those days. I'm not really sure what happened. It started during a nice walk with some friends around Cape May. Maybe the 15mph winds blew insanity right into Calen's lungs, but he started whining, which turned into yelling, screaming, throwing a fit and all that nonsense that goes with it. I blamed it for not taking a nap...for like the 14th day in a row.

Some milestones I really don't appreciate. Like potty training. Yeah sure it's great not having to spend money on (more) diapers. But when you're trying to run a simple errand to Target and your 2 year old announces that he has to pee 429 times, in the car, while on the parkway which has a whopping 2 exits in your 90 minute roundtrip drive, you miss the quiet, peaceful days of diaperhood. Another milestone that I despise is losing naptime. Calen still REQUIRES a nap. If he doesn't have a nap, the second half of his day is ruined. But he's got some idea in his head that he doesn't need to nap. And I can't convince him otherwise. He still has quiet time upstairs in his room while Cam takes a nap, but he isn't sleeping, even though I threaten his life strongly encourage him to. 

So today after we got back from our walk, and nothing would calm the one-eyed monster down. And not to be outdone, Camden crawled around screaming like some type of banshee-dragon-pterodactyl hybrid experiment gone wrong.

Both kids are screaming, so I dig deep down into my mama carpet bag full of ideas, and turn on Yo Gabba Gabba on Netflix.


We try to keep the level of tv watching low in our house. You know trying to be the crunchy award winning mom that doesn't resort to throwing their kids in front of the boob tube when things get to crazy.


But on days like this, TV is the ONLY solution.

Within 2 minutes, both kids are quiet, still, eyes wide, mouths open, drooling. Engrossed in some creepy 80s wannabe musical kid's show. 

Victory was never sweeter. 

The monsters are still....

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