People often sometimes never ask me, “How do you spend your day?” But I’m sure they’re THINKING about asking me, so I’m going to share.
First of all, my day really starts with my night, so let’s backtrack.
6:30-7:00pm – All three kids (we’ll call them C, D & G today) are hopefully asleep. Yes, I know that’s early. Stuff it. If you lived in my house, you’d put my kids to bed at 6:30-7:00pm, too.
9:30pm-ish – One of them wakes up screaming. He/she doesn’t usually want or need anything other than to scream, make us pause “How I Met Your Mother” or “The Mentalist” (hellooooo Simon Baker) and tuck him/her back in. Basically, they do it just because they CAN.
Anyway, at the sound of first scream, the Dad and I both ignore it and hope it’ll go away. Then as the screaming increases in volume, we continue to ignore it a little longer, both hoping that the other person’s going to get up to deal with it. (I know soooo many of you are nodding your heads right now, saying “Yup, yup… us too.”)
Finally, we roshambo to see who has to actually exert energy. People, their rooms are sooooo far and we’ve only been sitting on the couch for like an hour at that point. No one wants to deal with the crying kid. (Love you kid!)
OK, so let’s say I lose and head upstairs. Often, the crying child is hysterical by the time I get there… speaking in tongues or one of those languages that makes the clicky sound. The Dad and I call this “Crazy Eyes.” As in, “Did he/she need something or was it just Crazy Eyes?” I can try to talk to that kid, but he/she is not interested in what I’m selling. They just need a physical push back down on that pillow, a pat on the back and a high-speed version of Twinkle, Twinkle. Fast, easy, and I’m out. (Simon, I’m coming!)
The Hours Between 11:00pm and 5:59am – Various children are seen and/or heard many times.
The baby cries. We just assume he’s teething and feed him droppers full of medicine while barely opening our eyes. I HOPE it’s baby Motrin, but he does sleep veeeery soundly from then on, so who knows?
We just moved D to a bed (sort of… don’t ask) so now he appears at my bedside a few times each night, which is AWESOME. He does that stealth thing where he tiptoes in and then whispers in my ear, “iPah?” Scares the bejeezus out of me every time. Then I have to walk him back to bed and repeat the whole tuck-in process. Would it be wrong to just leave the iPad on his nightstand? How wrong exactly?
C is MUCH better about staying in her bed now… she’s currently working on ten nights in a row in order to earn a pet frog. (Although my research has revealed that pet frogs eat live crickets, so THAT’S out. I’m going to have to convince her that a stuffed frog is just as cool. Isn’t it though? I mean, c’mon, we are talking about a FROG.) She still periodically has some Crazy Eyes episodes but mostly she knows to stay in her bed until she sees the 6 on her digital clock. This has taken YEARS to accomplish but she’s finally got it. True, we sometimes hear her cheering “C’mon 6! Let’s go 6!” but she waits.
6:01am – C climbs into our bed. Whines about the pillow not being right. (same pillow every day). Complains about it being cold (a toasty 68° every morning). Cries that her blanket is missing (it’s not) and then promptly aligns her body so closely to mine you’d think she was trying to climb back in. No joke – she and I occupy 1/8 of the bed and there’s four feet of space between her and the Dad. WTF?
Eventually, around 6:20, D wakes up… C hears him the second his eyes open, jumps out of our bed, steps on our heads in the process, runs to his room, slams the door (every. damn. day.) and they hang out and practice their spelling and fractions until the rest of us get up. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself they’re doing. They’re fairly quiet so I don’t care.
7:00-8:00am – This is the morning witching hour in our house. You didn’t know there was one of those did you? Yup, there is. And it sounds like this:
Do I have school today? I want cereal! Can I have waffles? I want waffles AND cereal… AND a bagel! Can I have juice? Can I have juice? Can I have juice? Will you play with me? I don’t want strawberries/bananas/blueberries/anything remotely healthy on my Plate ‘o’ Frozen Carb Products. AAAAHHHHHH! (That’s the baby imitating all the other yelling.) Actually, I’m NOT ready for you to change my diaper.* Can you stretch my underpants? WHY do I have to wear long-sleeves/socks/a coat/shoes that are not Crocs? AAAAHHHH! (Baby again.) Will you play with me? I DID brush my teeth! G is throwing his food on the floor! I spilled my juice! Can I have more juice? My clothes are wet! I have to change my clothes! Can I eat the food that G threw on the floor? Do I have to wear these long-sleeves/socks/shoes that are not Crocs ALL DAY? Do we have any plans today? Will you play with me? I’m ready!!!! AAAAAHHHHH! (That one was me.)
You get the point.
And to clarify, I know that our house isn’t the only one that sounds like this in the morning. BUT if there’s anyone out there that’s hearing, “Can you stretch my underpants?” several times every morning, CALL ME. We need to drink together. Heavily… and often.
Anyway, I’m tired now (both at this point in every day and right now this very second, just from writing this all out) so I’ll continue with the rest of the day another time. I’m sure you’re at the edge of your seat… “Does she ever get to change that poopy diaper?” The answer is Yes. Yes, I do. About four more times. Every day.
*Anyone else out there think that a kid who can say, in perfectly good, clear as day English “Actually, I’m NOT ready for you to change my diaper,” should actually NOT be wearing diapers? ME TOO. Please feel free to drop by ANYTIME and potty train my kid. More on potty training soon. Get psyched.
PS. I will be trying to include some photos in the future, but the Chaos that is Morning Time could not possibly be captured in one still frame so I didn’t bother today.