J hates moving

J HATES MOVING. So, this past week (it really was pretty much a week long process...yuck) while moving, I learned there is nothing about this process that J enjoys. Nothing.

With a passion! Oh my gosh. I never thought twice about the effect this move would be on him. I just figured he wouldn't care less. He's a pretty easy going kid, right? Well, not this time around. As we were disassembling this-and-that, moving our life from one place to the next, (basically across a parking lot, tennis court, and another parking lot) he would stand in protest, with tears rolling down his cheeks, arms up in the air, pleading with us, "No no... no no." You would have thought we were torturing the poor thing.

Then, once we got into our new house, my sleeping angel baby was replaced by this non-sleeping enraged toddler. J has always slept through the night. Always. I take no claim in this production, because he just seemed to figure it out. He would go down after 6:30 PM, and wake up after 8:00 PM as his happy chipper self. Then, he would take TWO 2-3 hour naps during the day. The boy was like clock work.

Not now. Remember, my sweet sleeping angel was replaced by his villain. Not sure why. He just hates our new place. I thought at first it was the disorganization that comes with moving: things all over the place, nothing really put away. You know what I mean. But no. Now things are put away--- more or less. I made a real strong effort to at least have his room spic-and-span, ready to go! But, the kid wasn't fooled. He knew it was not his room, and he wanted me to know, that he knew. This new toddler that I own knows how to scream. And I mean scream. When he wakes up, there is no more laughing found from his corner of the home. Oh no. I think if he could speak, there would be all sorts of four-letter-words flying from his room.

His naps are a whopping half hour. He wakes up at 6:30 AM. Yes, I am complaining. Don't tell me not to complain, because my human has been alive almost 14 months, and he has never done this. So yes, I AM upset that he only takes these pathetic half hour naps, wakes up screaming, and then swears at me in the morning when he wakes up an HOUR AND HALF early.

What gives?

The worse of the worse happened the other morning, too. Oh man. J woke up around 6:00 AM. Chris and I just layed in bed looking at each other. I rolled my eyes, and just rolled over---what a jerk. I know. I pulled the covers over my head, and said to Chris, "Don't you dare get him out." IT WAS 6 AM!! No humans should be awake that early in the morning. So, of course after what seemed like an hour more of screaming (it was not even 5 minutes; calm your troubled heart), Chris (the GOOD parent) wandered into his room. Of course I didn't even notice that Chris got out of bed, I just heard him say, "Oh sick!" as the child's scream became frantic.

What was the big deal? Oh ya know, his diaper was just not on his bum, but sitting in the crib. Best part? Yep, there was poop. NOT in his diaper. I hurry and went into his room when I heard Chris gasp, to see what could be the problem. There my poor little baby was standing up, waving his poop hands in the air, MORTIFIED! I didn't know whether to cry, or bust up laughing.

The kid was horrified that poop was on his hands! YESSSS! I thought that was GREAT to see! My J is not one to stray from a mess, but run full speed to it. However, getting dirty is a whole different thing. Does that even make sense?? Either way, he was not impressed to have poop on his hands. Not one bit. I thought, for sure, if this day would ever come, I would stumble upon him smearing #2 all over the crib, his body, face, etc. But no. Not this little dear. He could not have been more grossed out.

Well, I will have you know that this morning, my angel child is slowly creeping back into the body of this demon. He slept until 7:30 AM. A BIG improvement on his previous tyrants. He also woke up CHEERFUL! Can you imagine?? I put him down for his nap an hour and half ago and guess what... he's still sleeping. No screaming baby. I need to do some serious knocking on wood, but maybe my sweet little boy is back.

Maybe.