The not so good times

I always write about the good times because this blog is like a scrapbook for me, I want to be able to look back and read it and think about all the things I want to remember when Van and Esther were little.

But obviously times are not always good, and both Van and I are not always on our best behavior. Last night was a good example. I thought may be worth capturing for accuracy, just so everyone reading the blog doesn't think we operate outside reality.

I generally carry Esther from the moment I walk in the door until she goes to bed. When I walk in the door, she is usually in her high chair.  If she sees me, and I turn any other direction but directly towards her, she will cry. I have to maintain eye contact while taking off my coat and putting down my things. But today I had to put her down right after I came home because I needed to be dressed nice, finished feeding her and over at my sisters house 5 minutes ago.
Van was hyper because we had just gotten home so he was running around being destructive and throwing things for no reason. And he was following me. Like a tornado throughout the house.

And Esther is crying, because I am not holding her.

We are in my closet which is covered in piles, boxes, and bags of clothes because I'm trying to clean it out. He sees a bag he used once and immediately goes to dump everything out of it.
Me: "NOOOO!"
Van: "This is my bag. I bring my things to school in it. It's mine."
Me: "You used it once, that doesn't make it yours"
Van: "It is mine."
Me: "You don't have any money, you don't have things. Everything is mine. And don't you dare dump it out."
Van: Crying and tears.

He mopes over to where Esther had been consistently crying and rerouting and trying to figure out how to get into my arms as I walk back and forth getting dressed. He lays on top of her so that she can't crawl away. She cries harder.

Me: "Stop that, she doesn't like it!"
Van: "I'm just laying on her"
Me: "Stop it!"

He finds a hanger in my closet, it is a pretty one, with silky fabric covering the arms. he hooks it on the boots I was wearing as I walk by in an attempt to drag me around but I keep walking and the hanger breaks.
He smiles.
Esther cries more.
Why is breaking things so fun for him! I grab the rest of the hanger still hanging off my boot and in a moment of weakness throw it at his head.

"Ow" he says in suprise. Then he bursts into tears. Mom's don't generally do things that hurt on purpose. He runs downstairs crying and I hear him demand to Daddy that I get a spanking.
Andy comes up to check on me.
"Did you throw a hanger and hit Van?" he said pretending to be serious but laughing a little.
I told him he deserved it under my breath.
"Don't worry, I spanked her." Andy calls down to Van.

Luckily, since we can see Svea's house from ours, we realize that she isn't even home yet so we aren't late. I lay down to nurse Esther and Andy lays down and on the other side and gives her a smooch. Then Van comes upstairs, happy again, satisfied that I have been punished, and climbs on Andy's back and we relax.