Phew.

I can't believe I've survived this last week and a half. And I'm still sane. At least sort of.

I like my insanity in small doses, you see.

So, blissfully ignorant of any future events coming my way, I set out to do my taxes at the beginning of last week. And since I have to do them for my own biz as well as my hubby's (and I happen to be a stickler for maximizing my deductions), I can get carried away and end up in tax hell for 4 days. And so I did, just like every year. But in the exact moment as I jublilantly e-filed everything, mentally and giddily already spending the refund on some shiny new studio equipment, I received a phone call from my mother-in-law, announcing that she was coming down from Washington State over Easter for a few days - and she was bringing my 2-year old nephew.

Now don't get me wrong. I love my mom-in-law. She's truly awesome. The angels (or devils) in charge of assigning mother-in-laws to unsuspecting brides took pity on me and gave me a really great one. And my nephew, with his charming smile and tightly-curled hair, is the cutest little bugger you'll ever see.

But - he's also 2 years old. Which of course means that he knows the meaning of the word "NO", and he's not afraid to use it. Especially if you want him not to throw the food he's been chewing for the past 10 minutes on the floor, or chase the cat around the house, squealing with an alien-like sound that is supposed to signal delight, but in reality makes the eardrums of every adult (and animal) contract in pain and finally explode. Plus, the moment he ruffles his forehead, juts out his lower lip, and gets that stubborn stare in his eyes, you know you've lost the battle already.

He happens to be gifted too. For example, he has an extra-sensory perceptional talent that allows him to find screwdrivers. Anywhere. Even where I could have sworn - on my grandmothers hallowed grave - there weren't any. That, in conjunction with his other knack of knowing exactly where every power outlet is in the entire house, makes for an entertaining easter-egg-sort-of-hunt. For him at least. I was less enthused to see him stick the screwdrivers into the outlets.

But those are details. The thing that really wore me out was the incredible energy he directed at general mischief. One moment he would be smiling his sweetest smile at you, the next he was climbing a chair, only to turn around, beam at you, and then have his little head hit the wood floor with a deeply resounding "thump". The tears wouldn't last, and 10 minutes later, he was back, doing the same exact thing again. Who ever said human beings learn from experience?

It took mostly two people, sometimes three, roughly 16 hours every day to keep the kid from killing himself. So why in the world would people ever want more than one child? How could they possibly keep up and keep the kids alive?

It's one of those unsolved mysteries to me. And sometimes I think, I wouldn't mind keeping it that way. In the very least, I was pretty happy to see the kid return back where it came from. Although I will miss seeing his sweet smile. But I'm also pretty damn happy to have my sanity back.