In. A. Funk.

So I mistakenly thought that a nice quiet day at home would cure all of Reagan’s temperamental ills brought on by a hectic and unusual weekend. I could tell on Sunday already that she desperately needed a vacation from any social activity whatsoever and I was relieved that Tuesday was looking to be just such a break.

She seemed okay on Monday, but hasn’t slept very soundly the past several nights - waking up a few times a night needing to be tucked back in or checked on or whathaveyou. It really isn’t that bad - the waking up. I like to think of it as some degree of preparation for the journey on which we are about to embark. But neither is it “normal” for her to need this much attention through the night hours. She has a terrible time getting to sleep. She has a terrible time staying asleep. She wakes feeling tired and unrested.

And it should have come as no surprise to me that Tuesday was a bit of a rough day. Of course, I discovered the reason for a small part of the cranky-child behavior.

I have mentioned before that Reagan’s favorite toy is her “bug” - a small rubber spider given to me as a gag gift. I really don’t like spiders, by the way. This little spider whose body is the size of a grape, has stretchy legs that Reagan likes to pull on. Inevitably they snap back on her and she gets mad. But its still her favorite toy and she demands to know its location at all times. Yes, that means she also demands to sleep with it. I should say, the spider HAD stretchy legs. Because evidently they could only take so much pulling and snapping and abuse. It was losing limbs at a rapid pace throughout the last week or so. Occasionally we would find a leg on the kitchen floor, on the coffee table or, logically, in her bed. I’ll admit, I hesitated on letting her have that little critter in bed. I mean, it doesn’t seem right or safe or smart. I considered all those things, but then figured she would eventually tire of her “bug” as she does with so many of her “favorites.” And I never once saw her put it in her mouth or you can bet I would have confiscated it for good. Anyway...Tuesday morning Reagan was really mad at her nose. Like I could tell she was super uncomfortable and I really didn’t know what else to do for her other than wipe it. It was a little runnier than normal. She was sneezing more than usual. Perhaps it was a cold. And several hours into the morning, I saw something very dark hanging from her nose. I thought it was a drop of blood so I got a tissue and by the time I got back to her, it was gone. I turned her over upside down and peered into her nostrils in a way only a very neurotic mother would and found nothing. Odd. An hour later, I saw it again. But this time I skipped grabbing a kleenex and just went for broke - grabbing it with my fingers. I pulled. And pulled. And pulled. Yes, I pulled an inch long “leg” from Reagan’s nose. And then I gagged. And then I immediately called Hubby to share the disgustingness with him. Because no mom should live through those disgusting moments alone. Thanks to my trusty scissors, the “bug” no longer has a leg on his poor body. After that, her attitude improved a bit. Have I mentioned I really hate spiders?

I thought maybe I had solved the problem. I mean, that’s CLEARLY why she wasn’t sleeping well the night before. Obviously I have cured my child of all crankiness and single-handedly healed her runny nose and uncomfortable fits of sneezing. I. Am. A. Genius.

Pride cometh before the fall. I'm sure you heard the thud.

Last night was every bit as unrestful for her as the night before. She had a terrible time getting to sleep - took her over 90 minutes. She had a terrible time staying asleep. And she woke up at approximately 6:40 this morning crying. And then we had the worst breakfast together we have ever had - wherein she demanded immediate possession of every single poptart in our entire house and absolutely FREAKED OUT when I ate one of them. The NERVE! Hearing all her commotion, her Daddy wasted no time in laying down the law - scooping her up out of her highchair and plopping her screaming body back in her bed. Where the screaming did not stop. But he went back in after a while and had a good “talk” with her about her awful table manners. She was given a second shot at breakfast which went remarkably better. But she again threw a fit when I got her dressed, cried the whole time I fixed her hair, and wanted NOTHING to do with me. Me, the one who had not administered the discipline. But on our way out the door, she stopped crying and asked in her sweetest voice for a piece of candy. Sigh...

Hello, terrible twos? Ah yes. I was wrong. You ARE here. Just a few months later than I was expecting you.

I have a bad feeling that even if we work out the lack-of-sleep issues, we are in for a bit of a long haul in the discipline department.

To which I say: Thank you sir, may I have another.