Angels's World! Part 1, The Joy of Parenthood

Often as a teenager I would think to myself, “When I’m a parent I will never do that!” These thoughts would occur as I would watch parents struggling with their children trying to do the most simple of tasks. These thoughts were of course only thoughts that would come to someone who didn't have children of their own.

When I thought about parenting I would picture myself with a wonderful life. I would ease through child rearing by avoiding all the things I had sworn off. The plan worked well with my first daughter. She was the typical first child. She walked and spoke early. Excelled in anything she tried. So of course, when her younger sister Angel was born two and a half years later I felt like I had a system down and was ready for anything.


The first six months in Angel's world were heaven. She missed nothing. She rarely cried or fussed as long as she could see what was going on. Angel would sit for hours watching everything like a cat watches a mouse. I was apparently the mouse and she was the cat. For when she learned to crawl the cat was let out of the bag.

At first I just thought that I wasn’t paying enough attention to keeping things out of her reach. The books all came off the shelves, drawer anywhere in arms reach were emptied. By sixteen months she took me by the hand, led me into the bathroom and said potty and actually went when I placed her on the toilet. There should have been some clues in there that she was special.

I no sooner would replace the books on the shelf then she would have the kitchen cupboards emptied and I would finish putting those items away and she would have the desk drawers strewn out around our small apartment. I couldn’t keep up so eventually I just left anything below 3 feet empty so she could climb in, on and around them without making me crazy.

When she was about two, I filled the tub and was going to bathe her when the phone rang. I closed the door to the bathroom so that she wouldn’t climb into the full tub. I answered the phone in the kitchen while undressing her so she could be ready for the bath. I then stood in the doorway facing the living room while I was finishing my phone call. My industrious child pulled a kitchen chair over to the counter and proceeded to butter herself like a piece of toast from head to toe remaining as quiet as she had as a baby. I turned to hang up the phone and froze.

She was so buttered that she started slipping on the chair. I tried to pick her up but could not get a hold. She was the greased pig trying to escape the excited mob. I kept telling her not to wiggle for fear I would drop her. So, silly me, put her on the waxed linoleum where she then became the ice skater. I finally skated her to the tub and carefully placed her in.

Upon doing so, a fine layer of fat skimmed the surface and she looked like a chicken in a pot of simmering soup. It took me three baths to get the butter off of her and the tub. I ran out of hot water!

To be continued.....