My husband went out of town again. That’s become such a regular occurrence no one even cried when we dropped him at the airport. Not even me. And I enjoy me some airport drop off crying.
In honor of his departure, everyone in the household decided to celebrate at 3:53 am. This was led by the newest 4 year old who decided to wake everyone up again. This time I went ahead and used the phrase “in for a world of hurt” when I explained just how unacceptable that was. Then everyone wanted to sleep late in the morning except I had places to go and people to see and maybe certain people wouldn’t be so tired if they could learn to embrace the concept of “stay in bed.”
My big places to go and people to see was a rescheduled appointment with my gynecologist. Love that chick so much I swear I left the office feeling like I had fun. I know. So weird. And she convinced me I need an iPod. Her 11 year old has had 4 of them already. I’ve had zero. And my cell phone can't take pictures either. Whatever. So I think maybe I need one. Not want. Need. Because she even sent me home with a list of podcasts to listen to. And how am I supposed to listen to them without one? So we'll see.
I’ll probably change my mind by next week because that's how I usually roll but yesterday I was like 3 minutes away from ordering one online. Instead I ordered Sigg bottles for me and the kids so we can start drinking more water. And Saturday I bought organic milk at the grocery store. What has gotten into me?
4.19.2008
We may own everything else 50/50 but the DVR is mine
So apparently Survivor was really awesome this week. I only know this from reading a recap of it as we had bad weather Thursday night and my CBS affiliate opted to show ongoing weather reports instead. NBC's affiliate was similarly inclined so I didn't get to see The Office either.
It's unclear to me how this sort of preempting manages to coincide with stuff I wish I could have seen instead of, say, something I wish I could have missed. Like last week's American Idol where the Australian guy I like got emotionally toyed with.
My husband pointed out that I should just be happy we didn't have any hail damage because we were smart enough to move our cars inside 20 minutes before it started coming down. Except that just wouldn't be like me because I enjoy complaining about things that are beyond my control.
Like how I also missed America's Next Top Model this week. Although that wasn't weather related. It was Military Channel related instead. My husband claims there was something so riveting taking place on that channel that a strange force entered his body and forced him to stop one of my DVR recordings so he could change channels. I'm pretty sure it was something akin to the history of the steel toed boot. That is only preferable to Top Model if you are male.
Sadly, I am not. And Wednesday is a busy night for my DVR. I'm going to need to patrol the remote a little better or be forced to subject my husband to a thorough explanation of the hierarchy of my crappy reality television viewing. Because he thought I'd want to watch Chatty Natty get voted out instead of Top Model. But, seriously, Big Brother's on 3 nights a week. Duh. Men.
It's unclear to me how this sort of preempting manages to coincide with stuff I wish I could have seen instead of, say, something I wish I could have missed. Like last week's American Idol where the Australian guy I like got emotionally toyed with.
My husband pointed out that I should just be happy we didn't have any hail damage because we were smart enough to move our cars inside 20 minutes before it started coming down. Except that just wouldn't be like me because I enjoy complaining about things that are beyond my control.
Like how I also missed America's Next Top Model this week. Although that wasn't weather related. It was Military Channel related instead. My husband claims there was something so riveting taking place on that channel that a strange force entered his body and forced him to stop one of my DVR recordings so he could change channels. I'm pretty sure it was something akin to the history of the steel toed boot. That is only preferable to Top Model if you are male.
Sadly, I am not. And Wednesday is a busy night for my DVR. I'm going to need to patrol the remote a little better or be forced to subject my husband to a thorough explanation of the hierarchy of my crappy reality television viewing. Because he thought I'd want to watch Chatty Natty get voted out instead of Top Model. But, seriously, Big Brother's on 3 nights a week. Duh. Men.
4.16.2008
Things you don't tell your coworkers but you happily post on the internet
Everytime I try to scan documents at work, I have to do it twice because I never remember to face the documents up instead of down. Because at home, they need to face down and I'm not capable of retaining different sets of scanner instructions inside my head.
It's sort of the same reason I travel around the building at work with a pen and paper. Because no one ever needs anything from me until I don't have a pen and paper. But no pen=let's chat.
The route to the bathroom is the main culprit. Like I'm going to remember anything by the time I get back. Because my husband's going to call my cell phone while I'm washing my hands and heaven knows that man's going to have some story about how he turned the lights off on someone while they were using the bathroom and by the time he's done laughing at his own little prank I'll be back in my office and there is just no way I'm going to remember that you plan to leave early Friday so I shouldn't send out a search party to look for your cold dead lifeless body. Seriously. Is it so wrong to need everyone to email me anything even mildly important so I won't forget?
Eh.
I'm going to need everyone that thinks I have more than 3 brain cells to stop reading now. OK. Everyone that's left, did you see Sunday night's Rock of Love 2 finale? I can't decide if Bret really likes Ambre or if he just decided he couldn't admit he wants to date dopey but hot strippers that still live with their ex-boyfriend in a one bedroom apartment. Chick was totally his type. But not as fun as Heather who everyone knows he should have picked the first time around.
He's either breaking away from his type or trying to pretend he is. And, um, speaking of dopey but hot strippers, the possibility exists that Natalie could be evicted tonight on Big Brother. Which sort of makes me happy. Except if she's not busy explaining the significance of random number combinations, misquoting the Bible and wearing socks up to her thighs, what would I have to make fun of?
It's sort of the same reason I travel around the building at work with a pen and paper. Because no one ever needs anything from me until I don't have a pen and paper. But no pen=let's chat.
The route to the bathroom is the main culprit. Like I'm going to remember anything by the time I get back. Because my husband's going to call my cell phone while I'm washing my hands and heaven knows that man's going to have some story about how he turned the lights off on someone while they were using the bathroom and by the time he's done laughing at his own little prank I'll be back in my office and there is just no way I'm going to remember that you plan to leave early Friday so I shouldn't send out a search party to look for your cold dead lifeless body. Seriously. Is it so wrong to need everyone to email me anything even mildly important so I won't forget?
Eh.
I'm going to need everyone that thinks I have more than 3 brain cells to stop reading now. OK. Everyone that's left, did you see Sunday night's Rock of Love 2 finale? I can't decide if Bret really likes Ambre or if he just decided he couldn't admit he wants to date dopey but hot strippers that still live with their ex-boyfriend in a one bedroom apartment. Chick was totally his type. But not as fun as Heather who everyone knows he should have picked the first time around.
He's either breaking away from his type or trying to pretend he is. And, um, speaking of dopey but hot strippers, the possibility exists that Natalie could be evicted tonight on Big Brother. Which sort of makes me happy. Except if she's not busy explaining the significance of random number combinations, misquoting the Bible and wearing socks up to her thighs, what would I have to make fun of?
4.15.2008
The infestation continues but at least my son's clothing is in an actual dresser now
Dude. Lice suck. Thought I got them last week. Revisited them Sunday night. The joy never ends. Someday I will tell the story of the combing and the combing and never ending combing, combing, combing. I will also tell the story of how my husband thinks he has lice on his own head at least three times a day now but never seems to think my head could possibly contain any.
On the other hand, we did hit Ikea hard Sunday and come home with many fun new things. For example, an actual dresser or my son. He started his life with nothing but a closet to hold his stuff. Then he got a rolling thing my husband had made to use in the garage. It had giant drawers and sort of matched the floor in his room so we kinda liked it. But the kid’s getting bigger and the drawers aren’t ideal for tiny fingers without adult supervision. Since I can’t supervise the entire free world we bought him something less likely to bite his hand off and swallow it whole. It’s nice. Mainly because it’s shiny and new. And there’s lots of room to grow as my friend, organizer Peter Walsh, would say.
We even bought our 2 year old a bed. While crusing through the bed section he pointed to the twin beds and said he wanted one. Me, in one ear and out the other. My husband, soft and mushy after a week away from the kids. Next thing you know we bought that kid a toddler sized bed. Seriously. Whatever.
We never did a toddler bed with our daughter. Partially because her brother was on the way when she moved to a bed but also because I didn’t understand the point of shelling out for a toddler bed. I know you can reuse the crib mattress but they’re going to need a twin sized bed in a few years anyway. So why not buy the twin sized bed, slap a kiddie rail on it and skip the toddler bed frame expense? This makes perfect sense if your husband says you are never endingly cheap which my husband does. But I don’t care because it’s practical. Although now my practical self is co-owner of a cute toddler sized bed.
At least I convinced my husband not to let that kid escape the crib for another 2 weeks. Because my husband is going out of town yet again and no one’s allowed to emancipate kids from their crib and then up and leave the city limits. Holla.
On the other hand, we did hit Ikea hard Sunday and come home with many fun new things. For example, an actual dresser or my son. He started his life with nothing but a closet to hold his stuff. Then he got a rolling thing my husband had made to use in the garage. It had giant drawers and sort of matched the floor in his room so we kinda liked it. But the kid’s getting bigger and the drawers aren’t ideal for tiny fingers without adult supervision. Since I can’t supervise the entire free world we bought him something less likely to bite his hand off and swallow it whole. It’s nice. Mainly because it’s shiny and new. And there’s lots of room to grow as my friend, organizer Peter Walsh, would say.
We even bought our 2 year old a bed. While crusing through the bed section he pointed to the twin beds and said he wanted one. Me, in one ear and out the other. My husband, soft and mushy after a week away from the kids. Next thing you know we bought that kid a toddler sized bed. Seriously. Whatever.
We never did a toddler bed with our daughter. Partially because her brother was on the way when she moved to a bed but also because I didn’t understand the point of shelling out for a toddler bed. I know you can reuse the crib mattress but they’re going to need a twin sized bed in a few years anyway. So why not buy the twin sized bed, slap a kiddie rail on it and skip the toddler bed frame expense? This makes perfect sense if your husband says you are never endingly cheap which my husband does. But I don’t care because it’s practical. Although now my practical self is co-owner of a cute toddler sized bed.
At least I convinced my husband not to let that kid escape the crib for another 2 weeks. Because my husband is going out of town yet again and no one’s allowed to emancipate kids from their crib and then up and leave the city limits. Holla.
4.09.2008
I'd love to write more about the torture that is lice but I'm busy frantically combing nits out of my kid's hair
Sunday night I noticed a sort of rash on the back of my 4 year old's neck. She has Grade A supersensitive skin and she'd been saying the day before that she was sweaty. I figured the rash looking area was heat rash or eczema. I figured I'd give it a day to see if it went away on it's own. Monday night it was looking scratched up thanks to fingernails that needed to be cut. But then she commented that her head was itchy. Not her neck. Her head. Like last week when she commented her head was itchy and I did what I thought was a paranoid spot check of the head. Right. Cue the chills running down my spine.
I immediately shoved that kid's head back under a lamp and did another spot check. Nothing was moving but there was stuff at the base of her neck. But that girl hates having her hair washed. It had been 2 or 3 days since it was washed. So I wasn't sure if it wasn't just "hair that needs to be washed" stuff or "Oh, my word we're infested let's shave everyone's head before the lice take over our existence" stuff. I'm a lice newbie. I've never even performed a lice check let alone seen actual lice. I wasn't sure I'd know it if I saw it.
So I did what any good mother would do in that situation. Scoured the internet, of course! By the time I was done I was half convinced the kid had scabies. But I talked myself down from the ledge and thought things looked better after we washed her hair. I even took the kid to the day care on Tuesday. I know. Merry Christmas, other parents with children at that day care! Although, technically, one of your kids gave it to mine so I'm kinda sorta not as sorry as I probably should be but whatever.
Tuesday night I nearly flipped my gourd when I discovered a moving organism on her head. After her brother had already gone to sleep. After I had no way to get to a store to buy any stuff to get rid of it. And way after that kid's mental breaking point. She passed out on her bed with the lights on so I decided to just let her sleep and work on the Infestation o' Lice in the morning.
Which would be today. Rather than overseeing the training I've been planning and coordinating at work for several weeks now, I was at home combing strand by strand through that kid's hair. That's after I bribed her with a Kit Kat bar to leave the RID shampoo on her head for ten minutes. The combing was the real ordeal though. My neck hurts just thinking about hunching over like that for an hour and a half. No really. She watched all of Cinderella while I was working.
I'm sure lice suck at any age, but I'd just like to say lice on a 4 year old is especially annoying. 4 is old enough to know your mom can't do much about your hair unless you agree to it but old enough to understand when something is going to suck big time. She also still fidgets and can't sit still for an hour and a half.
I let her wash and comb my hair first. That helped her start off pretty agreeable. She quickly decided it was taking too long though. By 30 minutes in I offering up a trip to Target to try on high heels to keep her seated. An hour in it was lunch out and letting her order lemonade like a big girl. And by the last 10 minutes when she had to look down the whole time and was crying off and on, I think ice cream got mentioned. It was rough. I'd have agreed to anything. All I could think about was how close we were to being done.
Which is remarkably naive since I discovered some nits behind her right ear while we were brushing her teeth tonight before bed. We're clearly not done. Because that means I either didn't do as good a job as I thought I did going strand by strand earlier today or I missed some surface in the house that needs to be submerged in scalding hot water. Either way, sucks to be me.
I'd love to provide a more in depth explanation about the myriad reasons why it sucks to be me today, but I've got to go crane my neck in the mirror to see if there's anything moving on my own head. Because the only thing worse than your husband out of town and unable to help hold your kid down while you do a lice check is the rampant paranoia inside your head that makes you think your head itches because there's no one to look for nits on your own head.
I immediately shoved that kid's head back under a lamp and did another spot check. Nothing was moving but there was stuff at the base of her neck. But that girl hates having her hair washed. It had been 2 or 3 days since it was washed. So I wasn't sure if it wasn't just "hair that needs to be washed" stuff or "Oh, my word we're infested let's shave everyone's head before the lice take over our existence" stuff. I'm a lice newbie. I've never even performed a lice check let alone seen actual lice. I wasn't sure I'd know it if I saw it.
So I did what any good mother would do in that situation. Scoured the internet, of course! By the time I was done I was half convinced the kid had scabies. But I talked myself down from the ledge and thought things looked better after we washed her hair. I even took the kid to the day care on Tuesday. I know. Merry Christmas, other parents with children at that day care! Although, technically, one of your kids gave it to mine so I'm kinda sorta not as sorry as I probably should be but whatever.
Tuesday night I nearly flipped my gourd when I discovered a moving organism on her head. After her brother had already gone to sleep. After I had no way to get to a store to buy any stuff to get rid of it. And way after that kid's mental breaking point. She passed out on her bed with the lights on so I decided to just let her sleep and work on the Infestation o' Lice in the morning.
Which would be today. Rather than overseeing the training I've been planning and coordinating at work for several weeks now, I was at home combing strand by strand through that kid's hair. That's after I bribed her with a Kit Kat bar to leave the RID shampoo on her head for ten minutes. The combing was the real ordeal though. My neck hurts just thinking about hunching over like that for an hour and a half. No really. She watched all of Cinderella while I was working.
I'm sure lice suck at any age, but I'd just like to say lice on a 4 year old is especially annoying. 4 is old enough to know your mom can't do much about your hair unless you agree to it but old enough to understand when something is going to suck big time. She also still fidgets and can't sit still for an hour and a half.
I let her wash and comb my hair first. That helped her start off pretty agreeable. She quickly decided it was taking too long though. By 30 minutes in I offering up a trip to Target to try on high heels to keep her seated. An hour in it was lunch out and letting her order lemonade like a big girl. And by the last 10 minutes when she had to look down the whole time and was crying off and on, I think ice cream got mentioned. It was rough. I'd have agreed to anything. All I could think about was how close we were to being done.
Which is remarkably naive since I discovered some nits behind her right ear while we were brushing her teeth tonight before bed. We're clearly not done. Because that means I either didn't do as good a job as I thought I did going strand by strand earlier today or I missed some surface in the house that needs to be submerged in scalding hot water. Either way, sucks to be me.
I'd love to provide a more in depth explanation about the myriad reasons why it sucks to be me today, but I've got to go crane my neck in the mirror to see if there's anything moving on my own head. Because the only thing worse than your husband out of town and unable to help hold your kid down while you do a lice check is the rampant paranoia inside your head that makes you think your head itches because there's no one to look for nits on your own head.
4.05.2008
At least I have my DVR to keep me warm at night
My husband's home again. But, wait, he's leaving again tomorrow for 5 more days of training related stuff. Like I care what valiant cause takes him away. Inside my pea brain, you're either here with me in the trenches or your not. Although the trenches have been fairly pleasant today. We did bubbles outside followed by coloring with chalk. Then the 4 year old tucked me and her brother in for naps. Using her as my role model, I demanded to have my back rubbed and repeatedly asked questions every time she tried to leave the room. Good times! And there's always crappy reality television to keep me warm at night!
American idol: My favorite was the Australian guy. The kid was good but I like Dolly’s version better. I liked David Cook too but got a little distracted every time he sang the word sparrow. I love that the country genre which might on paper seem like the hardest for him ended up being a very good week for him. He’s talented. And, boy was that haircut overdue. He used to look all 1990s Goo Goo Dolls retro. He looks a lot better now that he joined us in 2008. And honestly, what is wrong with Syesha’s brain? I can’t figure out if she thought her version would be better than Whitney or Dolly’s. Surely she didn’t. And if she didn’t, then why do it? Because you’ll just end up looking second rate. Does everyone not agree Dolly and Whitney have I Will Always Love You pretty well covered? The only thing that surprised me on the elimination show was that she wasn't in the bottom three.
Big Brother: Ever since Josh made fun of Amanda’s dad killing himself, I’ve been sort of over him. So I’m not really sad he's gone. And I totally thought Sharon was going to win head of household. Or maybe I just wanted her to win so we wouldn't have to listen to Natalie explain why she's right over and over again for another week. I'm sure googley eyed Adam will continue to do her bidding so let's all wish James luck in the next veto competition.
America’s Next Top Model: I think the judges only eliminated Claire because it would be a surprise. There's no way they look at her and Lauren and think Lauren has a better modeling career ahead of her. No way. Claire's just as photogenic, can walk and has a better personality. Lauren walks like a horse. They claims they care about how you walk on the runway on this show so what's she still doing there? She not only doesn't work the runway, she doesn't even look normal. If she could just pretend she was walking through the grocery store she'd look better. Unless that's how she walks in the grocery store. Girlfriend stands no chance of winning. I'm getting concerned Anya may win though. But I'm rooting for Katarzyna. Her new haircut was super cute.
Survivor: I realize Ozzy is a stud in challenges and when it comes to fishing. And I realize that’s kinda cool. But I’m really not into his personality. And by that I mean, where the hell is his personality? I’m sure he’s a nice guy but he’s not all that exciting to watch. But, again, totally respect the fact that he’s valuable to the team. I just feel like the game is headed down a long boring road where we’re going to watch everyone let Ozzy skate by. And Amanda lost to Todd last time because they saw her as nothing but his sidekick. So what did she learn from that? Find another guy to go to the final 2 with so you can lose again? Because let’s be honest, who wouldn’t vote for Ozzy. Finally, I think Fans vs. Favorites was a bad idea. The favorites have a big advantage already having done the show before. And they seem kind of full of themselves too. They're starting to annoy me. And it’s a miracle that ice cream scooper kid that slammed chest first into the platform doesn’t have any broken ribs. Holy cow, he hit that thing hard.
American idol: My favorite was the Australian guy. The kid was good but I like Dolly’s version better. I liked David Cook too but got a little distracted every time he sang the word sparrow. I love that the country genre which might on paper seem like the hardest for him ended up being a very good week for him. He’s talented. And, boy was that haircut overdue. He used to look all 1990s Goo Goo Dolls retro. He looks a lot better now that he joined us in 2008. And honestly, what is wrong with Syesha’s brain? I can’t figure out if she thought her version would be better than Whitney or Dolly’s. Surely she didn’t. And if she didn’t, then why do it? Because you’ll just end up looking second rate. Does everyone not agree Dolly and Whitney have I Will Always Love You pretty well covered? The only thing that surprised me on the elimination show was that she wasn't in the bottom three.
Big Brother: Ever since Josh made fun of Amanda’s dad killing himself, I’ve been sort of over him. So I’m not really sad he's gone. And I totally thought Sharon was going to win head of household. Or maybe I just wanted her to win so we wouldn't have to listen to Natalie explain why she's right over and over again for another week. I'm sure googley eyed Adam will continue to do her bidding so let's all wish James luck in the next veto competition.
America’s Next Top Model: I think the judges only eliminated Claire because it would be a surprise. There's no way they look at her and Lauren and think Lauren has a better modeling career ahead of her. No way. Claire's just as photogenic, can walk and has a better personality. Lauren walks like a horse. They claims they care about how you walk on the runway on this show so what's she still doing there? She not only doesn't work the runway, she doesn't even look normal. If she could just pretend she was walking through the grocery store she'd look better. Unless that's how she walks in the grocery store. Girlfriend stands no chance of winning. I'm getting concerned Anya may win though. But I'm rooting for Katarzyna. Her new haircut was super cute.
Survivor: I realize Ozzy is a stud in challenges and when it comes to fishing. And I realize that’s kinda cool. But I’m really not into his personality. And by that I mean, where the hell is his personality? I’m sure he’s a nice guy but he’s not all that exciting to watch. But, again, totally respect the fact that he’s valuable to the team. I just feel like the game is headed down a long boring road where we’re going to watch everyone let Ozzy skate by. And Amanda lost to Todd last time because they saw her as nothing but his sidekick. So what did she learn from that? Find another guy to go to the final 2 with so you can lose again? Because let’s be honest, who wouldn’t vote for Ozzy. Finally, I think Fans vs. Favorites was a bad idea. The favorites have a big advantage already having done the show before. And they seem kind of full of themselves too. They're starting to annoy me. And it’s a miracle that ice cream scooper kid that slammed chest first into the platform doesn’t have any broken ribs. Holy cow, he hit that thing hard.
4.03.2008
Buzz kills are my specialty
Two nights ago, I was very ill and very tired. To ensure I would sleep through the night, I took Nyquil and a Tylenol PM. I passed out the moment my head hit the pillow and there was a pile of drool on my pillow when I woke up. I know because I distinctly remember that wake up call.
I didn't hear the bedroom door open. I didn't hear the pitter patter of little feet. And I didn't even hear them climbing the step stool at the foot of the bed. That's how out I was. It took bouncing on the bed to yank me out of REM sleep. My head was so foggy I didn't even lift my head up. My eyes felt heavy and my first thought was that I didn't know how I could get through the day that exhausted.
Our kids don't normally come in our bedroom to wake us up. It's not anything we trained them not to do. The newest 4 year old just always waited for us to come get her. Even when she moved from a crib to a big girl bed. She just happily played in her bed until we came. It was awesome.
In the last six months, she's started coming out of her room in the morning, but she still doesn't generally come get us. We usually just find her sitting at the dining room table coloring or flipping through a book on the couch. Again, awesome. Except when my husband's out of town. Because then she pops right in to get me. In the last month, she's been doubling my pleasure by helping her brother out of his crib too. Clearly, this wake up call should tell you my husband's out of town again. Oh, the joy.
But I was so tired. Way more tired that usual when these wake up calls occur. And then they turned all the lights on and flung themselves on my back. The two year old began riding me like a pony. All the commotion woke up both the dogs and they're jumping around wanting to go outside now too. And, again, mucho tired and pondering how many Dr. Peppers it's going to take to make me feel human. But the bedroom had been so dark. Why was it so dark when I first woke up? Exactly how early are they getting me up?
So I motivate myself to roll over and lift my head off the pillow to check the clock. I think I see a "2" on the display except I'm sort of blinking while my eyes adjust to all the light so I think maybe it was a "5" instead. And "5" makes a lot more sense inside my head. So I look again and it really is a "2." But there's a pillow and bunched up comforter sort of in front of the "2" so I start thinking maybe I just didn't see the "1" before the "2." Because in my head midnight would mean the newest 4 year old had just somehow stayed up way past her bedtime instead of being a complete wackjob. Because by now they're both bouncing off the bed and running down the hall squealing and anything other than way past bedtime meant my head might explode.
Too bad it was 2:38. She had been asleep. Then she woke up. And because she can't tell time, waking up meant it must be morning so then she got up. She flicked on the light in her brother's room and got him up too. Then they turned on every light in the house and raided the kitchen for some Kix. That's when they decided to come get me.
2:38. Everyone wide awake and ready to party. Except me because I'm medicated and desperate to sleep. Our 2 year old hates bedtime as it is. Kid's been crying every night at bedtime for a month now. How the hell am I supposed to explain to him the difference between morning and "your sister is insane."
It went as well I had expected. Which was badly. In the foggy Nyquil haze I had to chase him around the dining room table pulling all the chairs back out of the way and then dragging him out from under it by the shirt. I tried rocking him to help him calm down but that was like tossing a thimble of water at a house fire.
While he was letting me know how endlessly futile that had been, I headed next door to give his sister a briefing on just what a buzz kill she was in for. It included, "I don't care if you go back to sleep or not but don't get out of your bed again until it's light outside." I also explained that her brother is not to be woken up ever unless flames are literally shooting out of the wall at her. I wanted to use the phrase "in for a world of hurt" but I wasn't sure she'd understand it.
And then I laid down and passed out again. The best part of the story is how easily I fell back asleep. The worst part of the story is that my second wake up call of the day was a mere 3 hours later. Apparently, 5:30 looks light outside when you're 4. And insane. What. On Earth.
I didn't hear the bedroom door open. I didn't hear the pitter patter of little feet. And I didn't even hear them climbing the step stool at the foot of the bed. That's how out I was. It took bouncing on the bed to yank me out of REM sleep. My head was so foggy I didn't even lift my head up. My eyes felt heavy and my first thought was that I didn't know how I could get through the day that exhausted.
Our kids don't normally come in our bedroom to wake us up. It's not anything we trained them not to do. The newest 4 year old just always waited for us to come get her. Even when she moved from a crib to a big girl bed. She just happily played in her bed until we came. It was awesome.
In the last six months, she's started coming out of her room in the morning, but she still doesn't generally come get us. We usually just find her sitting at the dining room table coloring or flipping through a book on the couch. Again, awesome. Except when my husband's out of town. Because then she pops right in to get me. In the last month, she's been doubling my pleasure by helping her brother out of his crib too. Clearly, this wake up call should tell you my husband's out of town again. Oh, the joy.
But I was so tired. Way more tired that usual when these wake up calls occur. And then they turned all the lights on and flung themselves on my back. The two year old began riding me like a pony. All the commotion woke up both the dogs and they're jumping around wanting to go outside now too. And, again, mucho tired and pondering how many Dr. Peppers it's going to take to make me feel human. But the bedroom had been so dark. Why was it so dark when I first woke up? Exactly how early are they getting me up?
So I motivate myself to roll over and lift my head off the pillow to check the clock. I think I see a "2" on the display except I'm sort of blinking while my eyes adjust to all the light so I think maybe it was a "5" instead. And "5" makes a lot more sense inside my head. So I look again and it really is a "2." But there's a pillow and bunched up comforter sort of in front of the "2" so I start thinking maybe I just didn't see the "1" before the "2." Because in my head midnight would mean the newest 4 year old had just somehow stayed up way past her bedtime instead of being a complete wackjob. Because by now they're both bouncing off the bed and running down the hall squealing and anything other than way past bedtime meant my head might explode.
Too bad it was 2:38. She had been asleep. Then she woke up. And because she can't tell time, waking up meant it must be morning so then she got up. She flicked on the light in her brother's room and got him up too. Then they turned on every light in the house and raided the kitchen for some Kix. That's when they decided to come get me.
2:38. Everyone wide awake and ready to party. Except me because I'm medicated and desperate to sleep. Our 2 year old hates bedtime as it is. Kid's been crying every night at bedtime for a month now. How the hell am I supposed to explain to him the difference between morning and "your sister is insane."
It went as well I had expected. Which was badly. In the foggy Nyquil haze I had to chase him around the dining room table pulling all the chairs back out of the way and then dragging him out from under it by the shirt. I tried rocking him to help him calm down but that was like tossing a thimble of water at a house fire.
While he was letting me know how endlessly futile that had been, I headed next door to give his sister a briefing on just what a buzz kill she was in for. It included, "I don't care if you go back to sleep or not but don't get out of your bed again until it's light outside." I also explained that her brother is not to be woken up ever unless flames are literally shooting out of the wall at her. I wanted to use the phrase "in for a world of hurt" but I wasn't sure she'd understand it.
And then I laid down and passed out again. The best part of the story is how easily I fell back asleep. The worst part of the story is that my second wake up call of the day was a mere 3 hours later. Apparently, 5:30 looks light outside when you're 4. And insane. What. On Earth.
4.01.2008
He aged 11 months in one day and other sappy stuff
Yesterday, I told my husband that my cell phone kept shutting off. I was convinced I needed a new phone. Then sometime after dinner, I discovered I’d been pushing the wrong button. I kept turning it off every time I thought I was locking the keypad. I’ve had the cell phone for over a year and locked the phone countless times. Dude. No really. Dude.
I wonder if I can blame yesterday’s mental defect on cold medication. And if I was unable to operate a cell phone, should I be concerned about the freaky stuff I might have screwed up at work in my overmedicated haze? Not that I get overly concerned about doing freaky stuff at work but it’s good to have a humorous little anecdote ready to explain it. Whatever.
In other news, a certain someone who I’m coming to believe needs to be my new best friend because she's always so sweet and nice happened to notice that I finally referred to my son as “the 2 year old” in my last post. I had been calling him my 18 month old for pretty much a year now. Except he was born 27 months ago.
As much as I would like to continue to call him my 18 month old until the end of time, forces beyond my control have flushed that plan down the toilet. Allow me to illustrate. Here is my 18 month old the day before Easter:
He’s so cute I think I need 9 more babies. And here he is on the merry-go round the same day:
Just look at those precious little baby hands holding on. Seriously. Do you not want to eat him alive? You do. You know you do. Stop pretending he’s not the cutest baby in existence. How about this picture of him clomping around the kitchen wearing his sister’s dress shoes on the wrong feet:
I demand you acknowledge his overwhelming cuteness right now or prepare to duel.
Right. So now look at my baby three days after Easter:
Um, yeah. That kid’s 2. What is the haps, people. I mean the cheeks are still there. And the pretty little eyelashes. And he definitely hugs like my baby. But come on.
After his haircut, we took this mysterious little stranger to McDonald’s to play on the playground and he toddled off wearing little Nike athletic pants with a football jersey-ish looking shirt. I swear to you I glimpsed my future in that moment. I told my husband it was a vision of him as a broad shouldered linebacker. The truth is a little of it was the running off into the world leaving me behind thing. My little baby. Sigh.
No more haircuts. That’s all there is to it.
I wonder if I can blame yesterday’s mental defect on cold medication. And if I was unable to operate a cell phone, should I be concerned about the freaky stuff I might have screwed up at work in my overmedicated haze? Not that I get overly concerned about doing freaky stuff at work but it’s good to have a humorous little anecdote ready to explain it. Whatever.
In other news, a certain someone who I’m coming to believe needs to be my new best friend because she's always so sweet and nice happened to notice that I finally referred to my son as “the 2 year old” in my last post. I had been calling him my 18 month old for pretty much a year now. Except he was born 27 months ago.
As much as I would like to continue to call him my 18 month old until the end of time, forces beyond my control have flushed that plan down the toilet. Allow me to illustrate. Here is my 18 month old the day before Easter:
He’s so cute I think I need 9 more babies. And here he is on the merry-go round the same day:
Just look at those precious little baby hands holding on. Seriously. Do you not want to eat him alive? You do. You know you do. Stop pretending he’s not the cutest baby in existence. How about this picture of him clomping around the kitchen wearing his sister’s dress shoes on the wrong feet:
I demand you acknowledge his overwhelming cuteness right now or prepare to duel.
Right. So now look at my baby three days after Easter:
Um, yeah. That kid’s 2. What is the haps, people. I mean the cheeks are still there. And the pretty little eyelashes. And he definitely hugs like my baby. But come on.
After his haircut, we took this mysterious little stranger to McDonald’s to play on the playground and he toddled off wearing little Nike athletic pants with a football jersey-ish looking shirt. I swear to you I glimpsed my future in that moment. I told my husband it was a vision of him as a broad shouldered linebacker. The truth is a little of it was the running off into the world leaving me behind thing. My little baby. Sigh.
No more haircuts. That’s all there is to it.
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