Bed Time? (Ha!)

I am pretty sure it’s time that I re-evaluate our bed time routine. It’s just not giving us the desired results like it used to. Here’s a synopsis if our current regime:

5:30 pm: We tidy up the house a little so Daddy doesn’t see what it really looks like all day long while he’s at work. We make it look like it’s just messy, as opposed to a nuclear test-site. Then we start getting ingredients ready to prepare dinner. I usually open the back door so the kids can play on the patio where I can still see them, but they’re not underfoot. That lasts about 15 minutes and then they come back inside to be entertained so whatever I have not accomplished for dinner has to wait until Rick gets home. When he finally arrives home from work (generally a half-hour later than when he says he will) the kids pounce on him and I sneak away to finish what I have left in the kitchen.

7 pm: When dinner is ready we all sit at the table and we listen to Sarah say the blessing. Her version of the blessing goes something like: “Gah buoy food…eat…loyve ou. Dant ou moych. Amen.” I think it’s supposed to mean: “God bless our food, we love you, thank you very much. Amen.” I don’t care if it’s not “correct”, the point is that she is learning to say grace and that we eat together as a family. Jesus knows what she’s trying to say (um, I hope he does anyway haha) and that’s all I care about. We tried having Rick say the blessing since he’s the man of the house, but that wasn’t working out because Sarah would look so sweet with her petite hands clasped reverently in front of her and her delicate eyelids fluttered closed. Then I would open my eyes to peek at her halfway through, and she’d be sneaking mouthfuls of food off of her plate as if she were a contestant at a pie-eating contest with her hands still clasped reverently. So when she’s the one who says the prayer she doesn’t “cheat”. By the time I am able to take a few bites of warm food the kids are finished eating so I have to find a way to keep them involved so Rick and I can finish eating. Well, so Rick can finish eating. I usually wind up eating cold scraps with my fingers while I’m clearing the dishes. Ah, motherhood.

8 pm: After I clean up the mess (how they can make such a monstrous mess and so little food is ingested I’ll never understand), I strip the kids and lay out jammies and, well, for the complete “Preparing for Bathtime Routine” read the third paragraph of this. Rick relaxes on the couch and the kids and I cram into our shower. The bath time pattern that we’ve developed really needs tweaking. It used to be the most efficient way to get all of us clean and ready for bed at the same time. If I give them a bath in the tub I wind up soaked anyway so why not just get in there with them and have it done with? I am just growing tired of having a Matchbox car (no, no-it can’t be a normal-sized car, it has to be the humongous tow truck one) fall on my toes-which is surprisingly painful-while I am washing my face so I get soap in my eyes and I’m trying to figure out which hurts more-my eyes or my toes-all while one of the kids is trying to sneak out of the shower.

8:30 pm: All of the energy they spend tormenting me in the shower must tire them out because after we get out I slap some lotion on them and squish their bodies in to their jammies, and we kiss Daddy goodnight. Then Sarah lies next to me in my bed (she’s never slept in her own bed, but Rick looks very cute in the pink Princess sheets) and I nurse Patrick to sleep. Patrick is usually asleep within 15 minutes, and I can guarantee that as soon as I put him in his crib Sarah will start asking me for cereal. I always give in because even if it is a stall tactic I am scared that if I refuse it will be the one time she really is hungry, and I couldn’t live with myself if I made her go to bed with an empty tummy. So she eats her cereal and we crawl back into bed. I pretend like I’m sleeping so she’ll get bored and decide she won’t be missing anything if she goes to sleep, too. It does work-her eyes will start to close, and-it never fails-Rick will trudge into the room looking for something ridiculous, like a car title or a book. Why would you need the title to a car all of a sudden at 9:30 pm? And in the more than 7 years that I have known Rick I have yet to see him pick up a book and read it. Needless to say, I get highly irritated when he pulls this night after night, and have taken to locking him out of the room.

10 pm: Sarah will finally give in to sleep around now, which is perfect because this also happens to be the exact time that Patrick wakes up for the first time. I rock him and within a few minutes he falls back to sleep, but I stay in there a little longer than I really have to just so I can smell his wonderful baby scent. Even though I complain about being tired there is something just plain irresistible about that baby smell.

10:30 pm: Ahhh, yes!! Finally the kids are sleeping soundly; maybe I can get some rest now, too…of course, this is about the time when Rick starts making wiggly eyes at me. My job is never done!

11:30 pm: (or so) YAY! I am getting into a comfortable spot in my bed with Sarah clobbering me with a stray arm and I have always suffered horrible insomnia so it takes me a long time to actually fall asleep. It’s so cruel—I am pretty sure I might die from exhaustion and yet sleep eludes me. *sigh*

4:45-5 am: My alarm clock (uh-that would be Patrick) goes off promptly without fail, and the process begins again. I must be doing something wrong. I need to be more efficient! I need a better strategy!! How do other moms do this?

Why Do I Miss Them??

Today was one of Patrick's "early" days. Yep, much to my chagrin he sometimes wakes up earlier than 6 am. The pattern seems to be every other day. It's weird how he has an internal alarm clock--to the minute. So at 5 am I dragged my weary butt out of bed and made coffee, brushed my teeth, and went into Patrick's room to face him. About 8 o'clock I heard Sarah get up, which is my signal that is is safe to allow Patrick to roam free around the house since I no longer fear him waking her up. To my passive-aggressive glee they both stormed in and forced Rick out of bed. I made him some coffee, fed everyone breakfast, cleaned up their messes, and dressed the kids. By this time I was very proud of myself because the kitchen and living rooms were spotlessly clean despite the kids' best efforts to stop me. Their "best efforts" include:

• waiting until I walk out of the room to put a stack of laundry away to throw the rest of the folded laundry onto the floor and stomp it into a wrinkled mess,
• throwing the remote control in the nasty garbage which takes 20 minutes of searching on my part to find, and the only reason I found it was thanks to them...
• dumping the garbage can on it's side and scrambling to shove handfuls of filth into their mouths (I know, they're disgusting kids),
• flushing an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet (thankfully they didn't unravel it first so all I had to do was scoop it out in a mushy clump-ugh), and last but certainly not least,
• going poop at the exact same time.

We bought another car two days ago-new to us, but not NEW new. We laughed at ourselves because we wound up with a vehicle identical to the one I already drive-haha-how cute "His and Hers" Yukons! ::eye roll:: Same make, model, year, even the same color...

So Rick needed to tie up some loose ends with the car this morning before he goes to work this afternoon and he asked if I wanted to go with him. I jokingly said, "Well if you wanted to take one of the kids I wouldn't say no..." To my shock he agreed, "Alright...which one?" I decided to really get crazy and test the limits and ventured, "Both??" GUESS WHAT!? He said okay!!!

So I got their little shoes on, fixed them some drinks in the sippy cups, buckled them in their carseats, and kissed their sticky faces goodbye. We have a ritual where we (me & the kids) stand at our living room window and wave goodbye and blow kisses to Rick as he drives off to work. So I went to the window and waved byebye to my little babies. And I started crying. ???

I surprised myself. I have always daydreamed of what I could do with an hour of uninterrupted "me" time. Take a shower, complete with shaving both legs. Read a book (okay, part of a book). Maybe even take a nap? So here's my chance-the house is mine, ALL MINE!!!!!, and huh-I cry?? This can't be a normal reaction? Maybe people are right-the kids need some time away from me, and I need some time away from them? I really don't know. I was stunned that waving to my kids as their father-you know, the other parent-drove off with them would reduce me to tears, but I just missed them so much. What if Patrick did something really cute like say "meow" or growl and I wasn't there to see it? Sure, I've seen him do those things a hundred time, but each and every time I have laughed and had my heart warmed up. What if Sarah did something nice for Patrick, HAHAHA okay I know that's far fetched, so fine-what if she said a new word and I wasn't there to hear it? This is why my kids aren't in daycare-not because of them, but ME. I can't stand the thought of them not being with me; but isn't it kinda weird that I would cry even with my spouse-their DADDY-taking them somewhere? I feel like it is...do I have attachment issues? *sigh* Oh well, I am going to try to relax and enjoy my "me" time. :)

Isn't it funny how the day can go from calm and peaceful to chaotic and out of control in mere moments? Yeah we had one of those tonight. Rick was outside with the kids on the patio and they had been in the hot tub while I was finishing dinner. I saw that they were starting to get out so I went to get dry towels. When I reached the door I looked out just in time to see Sarah's "trouble" grin...the one that never means good news...the one that I dread. She held her cat Nunie perilously over the water, and like a chump he just hung there not trying to get away. Sarah made eye contact with me and let me get out the words, "SARAH--N..." Too late-the cat was officially in the jacuzzi, scrambling to get out. He clawed his way up the side of the tub and made a bee-line to the back door which leads outside. The door was closed so he had no escape route but continued straight toward it and slammed into it. I guess with all the water in his eyes he couldn't see that it was closed or else he just didn't care and would rather be knocked unconscious than deal with Sarah (I can't blame him-I have felt that way, too). Few sights are more pitiful than a wet cat. There he was, wide-eyed and ricocheting off of everything on the patio. Sarah was on his heels (also wide-eyed) and laughing maniacally. She caught him and mercifulessly threw him in again. I know you're wondering why we didn't do anything to stop this cruelty. Honestly, the girl moves so darn fast it happened before we could react. Plus it was kinda funny.

So I opened the door to rescue the stupid cat (all of our cats are unusually patient and good with kids-they have never bitten or scratched the kids which is why they get repeatedly tortured) and he RAN-no, BOLTED-no, FLEW in without touching his feet to the ground and of course brought tons of water in with him. I quickly re-thought my strategy and tried to chase him back out through the front door, but slipped and fell on my butt from the water that the cat left on the floor (it was A LOT). So I was cussing like a sailor a little annoyed that I fell and got up, finally got the cat out, and looked over in time to see Patrick standing in his own little puddle. Several towels later we are all inside, and dinner was served. Ahhh, peace. HA! Yeah right! Sarah decided to help herself to the plate of chicken and wound up dumping it all on the floor. Well, I had just mopped the floor (yes, in my house the way I mop the floor is dump water on it and skate across it with towels) and whatever germs were on it would just build our immunity. So we ate chicken that was on our floor.

My Little Co-Conspirators

Yesterday I woke up to the usual sound of Patrick wailing to be let out of his cage crib around 6:30. My rule is he has to stay in his room until 7 because I am just plain sick and TIRED of getting up so early. If he had it his way we would be up hanging out together at 5 am. It took me almost 2 months to get him to the point that he is now--waking at 6:30 and staying in his crib until 7. It wasn't until after his first birthday that he stopped waking up every 2 hours at night. I'm not exaggerating: EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. FOR OVER A YEAR. So you can see why I don't want to mess up this new schedule.

I heard him crying but decided to get up, brush my teeth, and make some coffee before getting him so that it would be closer to 7 before I went in his room. When I was satisfied that I could stall no more, I crept up to his door because I couldn't hear him whining anymore and I thought maybe, just maybe, he had fallen asleep again. HA! Yeah, like that would ever happen. I saw him standing up, playing with his music box that straps to the railing of the crib (those new and improved mobile things), and talking to the little birdies inside of it. Awww, how cute.

I slowly pushed the door open, hoping to sneak up on him so I could continue watching my little sweetness in the precious moments of babyhood. Whoa! I know that smell! I yanked open the closet door to shed light on the situation and was horrified to see poop smeared on every surface that my eyes scanned. I looked at Patrick and he was naked from the waist down, gleefully grinning up at me and chanting, "Poo-poo!" Grrrrr. He did this on purpose because I wouldn't come in here and get him out!

So I (carefully) lifted him out and held him at arm's length down the hallway to the kitchen where I plopped him in the sink for a bath. He was screaming, which woke up Sarah. So at 7 am I started a load of laundry including every single stuffed animal, sheet, blanket, and pillow. Then I had to disinfect the railings and all of the nooks and cranies of the crib. All this before coffee. Finally (hours later) I was ready to make the crib again so I dressed the kids (it was pretty cold outside), got their shoes on, and put them in the backyard so they could play together while I finished the bed. I looked out the window every 3 seconds to check on them and I noticed Patrick was hobbling a little. One of his shoes was gone. I went outside and searched the entire yard to no avail.

"Sarah! Where's Patrick's shoe?"

Blank stare.

"Did you see where his shoe fell off?"

Starts spinning around and singing.

"Sarah, if you find Patrick's shoe I'll give you a piece of candy."

ZOOM!!! Like a flash of lightning the child flew around, closing in on the missing shoe. She triumphantly held the shoe up in the air, and declared, "Candy!!!"

So I gave her a Hershey Kiss, and another to share with her brother. Patrick has learned about candy. He definitely knows what it is and he calls it "na-na" and demands it on a regular basis (no, I do not give it to him on a regular basis). After that I went back into the house and resumed what I was doing. I have a bad habit of not actually accomplishing anything when the kids are playing outside because I will stand where they can't see me and spy on them. I have waited a long time to see them interact together, and I just can't help but to watch them. And it's so much more fun when they think I'm not around.

So there I was, not being productive and spying on the little ones when I observed Sarah approach PatPat. Now admittedly I expected the worst: I was totally prepared to hear Patrick yelp for help and watch as he was brutally pushed to the ground, kicked, or had a toy snatched away from him. But no! That's not what I saw at all. Sarah said something to PatPat, and I could tell he was actively listening. He sat down, as if on command (I'm assuming that's what Sarah was telling him to do), and let Sarah take his shoe off. I was too busy watching their sibling bond in action to think ahead. So she took off the shoe and threw it away from them. Then she pulled Patrick up and they both ran up to the back door. Now I was slowly getting it. Sarah said, "Mommy! PatPat shoe!" and I played along, "Oh no! PatPat's shoe is gone again?"

I followed them outside and Sarah ran right up to the shoe in question and brought it back to me. "Candy???" Patrick was right there beside her asking for "na-na" as well.

I don't care if I'm setting myself up for a lifetime of being manipulated! I don't care if they think I'm stupid and they think they can get away with anything! I don't even care if they get a cavity! I don't care about anything except that my kids worked together to accomplish a goal! They discussed it, came up with a plan, most importantly, they WORKED together to help each other. Awwwwwwww, my heart melted right there, and yep, I gave them the candy. :)



(*Yes, by the way, I do realize that I will probably not find this behavior so cute in a few years, but for right now I do.*)