Sunday, July 3, 2016

Baby you're a firework

I know it might seem a bit excessive to do TWO blog posts in one day, surpassing my usual two per year, but I couldn't keep the general public from hearing a little bit about our Fourth of July Eve festivities.

Our afternoon family nap, courtesy of 6:11 am (see previous post), brought back to life my sweet, happy, well rested tiny humans. Glorious. Things were going so well. I even made a pot roast in the crock pot that my children actually consumed. Monumental.

The glory was short lived my friends.

Here are some fun stats from our life post-pot roast.

8:00 Baby Claire is settled down for the night (aka 3-4 hours)

8:15 Bedtimes for the elder two begin.

8:18 The husband and I excitedly anticipate our new Sunday tradition of an in home date night consisting of board games, snacks, and gazing into each other's eyes for hours on end.

8:20 The neighbors and surrounding neighborhoods can sense the impending cover of night and my children preparing to slumber.

8:21 The neighbors and surrounding neighborhoods begin the process of blowing up approximately $80,000 worth of firework explosives, destroying both our childrens' sense of safety and our previously held dreams for snack size bags of chips and Uno.

8:22-10:30 Our children exit their room 73 times, shed 42 real tears, 23 fake tears, beg 172 times to sleep in our room, are given 1/2 tsp of Benadryl (in my defense, they were truly itchy from outdoor allergies...), have not one, not two, but THREE sound machines placed in their room on full blast. I internally rage and eat cheetos while my husband tries to calmly convince the tinies that the "boom booms" are simply the equivalent of really loud toots.

10:32 The Sequence game gets officially returned to the garage to sit on a lonely shelf with all of our former in home date night dreams.

10:35 Both children are given their Kindles and told not to come out of their room until Christmas.

11:05 One child remains in bed snuggling a Kindle, one is on the couch with a Kindle, the tiniest (and current reigning favorite child) is still in her room, my husband is getting ready for bed, and we figure in another brief 5-6 hours the firework extravaganza will finally let up and we will all get a high quality hour of sleep to ensure we have energy to do this all over again tomorrow night!

I will regain my love for you on the 5th of July, America.

OK to wake

Upon initial inspection, I may appear to be living the life currently. I'm sitting here in the sunshine with our eight year old MacBook laptop (our oldest child), I have my homemade Starbucks Verismo iced espresso with dairy free creamer (because eczema) perched atop the filthy tiny tot table next to me, and I am blogging without children in my ear because they have all been banished to their rooms for forced afternoon naps.

The making of this moment was brought to you by 6:11 AM. THAT is the time seared into my brain today as I awoke to the sound of my son crying and my daughter coming into my room confidently carrying her blanket and stuffed Curious George, ready to begin her day.

Our days do not begin at 6:11 am my friends.

I will provide the disclaimer that my incredibly brave and beautiful friend Brenda has a sweet son who gets up in the 4 am hour every day. I can't speak to her pain right now.

I had a good 31 year run with sleep (minus a brief season of colic in infancy that I feel as if I can actually recall for the vivid way my parents have recounted it to me), then our first daughter was born.

It has been a blessed, miraculous, sweet, itchy, exhausting series of days and nights ever since.  Not every night, but many, many, many, many nights. Lately my son wakes up because the zebras and the camels are coming into Benny's house (he talks in the third person. we hope it sticks) and he has to hide.

I gently come into his room, softly snuggle him in my arms while stroking his hair, and tell him I will let ALL the zebras and camels into the house if he doesn't close his eyes and go back to sleep.

I'm kidding. I simply pull my almost four month old into bed with me for most of the night every night so my husband will get up with the elder children. You learn some valuable life skills by the third kid.

My husband set the early risers up this morning with some educational television (I'm thankful PBS is willing to parent that early in the morning) and sugar laden vitamins that we take to keep the cold germs circulating regularly in our house. I got the tiniest back to sleep next to me and awoke a bit later with a start as her diaper gave up on life and exploded 87% of its contents as far as it could reach.

I changed her into something more presentable and figured I was clean enough (overachiever). Entering the living room, I was met with my favorite morning greeting by the offspring I lovingly carried around for 9 months.

"We want oatmeal!"

I love you too.

At some point during the morning I caught my son singing through his ABC's and then self-congratulating himself at the end, "Now I know my ABC's...good job!" He could sense there would be no parental affirmation today.

My very generous and kind mother (Nonna) came to save me from the nonsense so I could escape to China (Target).

I will say that my time there was lovely. I can't say exactly how Nonna's time went here at home, but I can say that it was terrible. Being voted the most positive person in the world 5 years running by the other people in the world, you know when Nonna says it was was bad.

Aside from early mornings and stink fest 2016, I have much to be thankful for!  Now I'm off to personally confiscate every fire work from every house within a 20 mile radius so we can all retain our sanity over the next two nights.

Happy Holidays you guys.