Thumb wrestling

The only reason I did not completely lose my shit after tonight's ritual tantrum was because I could see it coming after a very long and fun-packed day. The poor kid was exhausted. My husband, however, got the hell out of there the minute he could feel the flood waters swelling. Not a bad choice.

It was a busy day. We rode bikes over to our friends' house this morning to pick the vegetables in their garden while they're away. They've been gone for a month and it's tomato and cucumber harvest time so instead of going to the farmer's market we went to the Eilat household and picked ourselves a mondosalad. I like to make up words.

Then we get home and have lunch and my husband takes our son to his friend's birthday party at a gymnastics place where they run around for two hours before they eat cake. Then I pick him up with our daughter and take them to birthday party number two at a place where the kids jump in a jumpy house and slide down jumpy slides for two hours and then eat pizza and cake. We drive home and my husband then chases the kids around the house for an hour while I'm making a normal dinner. So by the time it's time for bed, I know this kid is wrecked though he appears to be keeping it all together to my astonishment. I was sure he would fall asleep during dinner.

So everyone's in bed in their undies because it's hot as all blazes in our house and the rest of northern California and instead of sitting right next to my son's bed and in front of my daughter's bed (they make a right angle and I sit in the middle), I'm sitting toward the end of my daughter's bed and my husband is sitting in the middle. This does not sit well for my son and he asks for a switch because he wants to hold my thumb while I sing. Fair enough. We switch but then he starts twitching around and putting his legs on the wall and generally being squirrely. It's not until the second song that he realizes that he forgot to hold my thumb during the first song. So he wants me to start over to which I refuse (the first song is long). But instead of holding my thumb for the next three songs he proceeds to sob about wanting me to start over. Why? Knowing you missed one opportunity, why would you then will yourself to miss the next three also? I offered the thumb but he was too busy begging me to go back. I vowed long ago to abandon the do-over. I couldn't give in. Finally I finished the songs and he was still quietly boo-hooing when I left. Poor guy. A tortured kid like that with back-to-back birthday parties...he never had a chance.

Aquaman

So finally tonight my son looked me right in the eye and with great pride spewed out the five sleep tricks and the three additions because the squirrel gave him back the key and now those things are all locked in his head. He went to sleep without a peep. The other one, unfortunately, received the baton. And for the next hour she went back and forth between sobbing for Mommy and sobbing for Aba. She doesn't play favorites. Around the third round of this I was with her in their room singing her a song when she starts calling for Aba again.

Me: Should I get Aba?
Her: I get Aba.

OK then. Meanwhile Aba is in the back room trying to prepare for a crack of dawn triathlon tomorrow. I follow her a few paces behind so that I too can pass the baton and out walks Aquaman in the tightest wetsuit I have ever seen on anyone who doesn't actually live in water. And he's holding her and she's looking at him, like WTF. Naturally, several minutes later, she re-emerges asking for me because Aquaman's been called off to rescue a polar bear stranded on an ice-chunk in the Arctic Circle. I move her to my bed. Five minutes later she starts calling for Aba again. Aquaman returns to rescue this lovely thirty-five year old mother of two from her over-tired toddler. He falls in love with her despite the bags under her eyes and they live a long and happy life together. The end.

Sleep tricks

Every night when my son goes to bed, after the bath and the pajamas and the snack and the dessert and the stories and the teeth brushing and the whining and the singing and the whining for more singing and the drink of water and the pee pee break, I ask him if he remembers the five tricks I taught him about how to fall asleep. And every night he doesn't remember. So every night I tell him these five things again and I tell him to put those five things in his head and lock them in there so he doesn't forget and then the next night he wants to hear them again because even though he locked them in his head they got out. A squirrel opened up his head with a key and took out all of the sleep tricks so he needs to hear them one more time. And there's a squirrel somewhere sleeping soundly.

So what are these tricks?
1. Count up to 100 and back to zero.
2. Look at your alef-bet quilt (hanging above his bed) and make up stories for every picture.
3. Have dreams about sheep jumping over a fence and count each sheep as it jumps in your dream.
4. Make up a pinky and pongo story.
5. Dream about everyone in the world that you love and everyone in the world who loves you and give every single one of those people a hug in your dream.

I mean I'm about to fall asleep just typing about these five tricks.

Tonight, ten minutes after I put them both to sleep and went over, again, the sleep tricks, he came padding into the office and sat down on the floor asking for new ways to fall asleep. For the love of ginger, just close your freaking eyes! But no, I threw out some more suggestions. Dream about folding all of mommy's laundry. Dream about mommy losing ten pounds on her new Nutella diet. He was not happy with these suggestions. Then I offered that I would give him one more suggestion and Aba would give him one more. So Aba said he should think about how much he loves riding his bike and I told him he should think about how great it was to swim using the noodle without holding on to any swim teachers (!). He still wasn't happy so that's when I started writing this blog entry. And three minutes into the period where I'm ignoring him and typing, he says I will do those two things and then he mentioned a third thing that I can't remember now because a squirrel came and took it out of my head. I'll go wake him up to ask him so we can start this whole exercise again because it was so much fun the first time around...

Sleep straining

Last night, without any premeditation or strategizing, I decided to sleep train my daughter. About a year ago we had begun our journey down the slippery slope of early morning snuggling in our bed. She would wake up around 6:00 and one of us would get her and put her in the bed. And she would snuggle and giggle and usually fall back asleep for another hour. Then at 7:03 she'd wake up and make my husband take her to get a banana for breakfast. We enjoyed it. She was like a little early morning radiating butterball.

But then 6:00 turned in 5:00, then 3:30, 2:30 and so it went. And she grew bigger. And developed some annoying habits. Like digging her heals into the space where my back meets the mattress. It was like she was trying to burrow. And she had to share my pillow. And she snores. Basically it became intolerable. She had also forgotten how to fall asleep by herself. We got in the habit of putting her to bed in my son's twin (she refuses to go to sleep in her crib) and when she's asleep, we sneak out. It only took minutes and she was so cute and cozy to sleep with. But when she wakes up at night she can't fall asleep again unless we're with her, which is why she comes into our bed. And since she shares a room with her brother, we can't just let her shriek until she falls asleep. And anyway, at this point she's on her crib mattress on the floor next to her brother's bed, so she can just get up and roam into our room at all hours.

So you could say, we made this bed and now we're lying in it. And the thing is we were so diligent with our son. Vigilant even. And he is a champion sleeper. I remember reading an article in some parenting magazine about how a family of four kids had four different sleepers and I wondered how can that be. Now I know. The second kid is very different than the first. The second has to share a room with her brother. We have exponentially less energy now for middle-of-the-night discipline. So many factors.

But last night I'd had enough. So at 2:00 am when her majesty came into our room, I brought her back to hers and she started to shriek. So I grabbed her blankets and made her a bed on our floor and for the next two hours she got out of her covers and tried to gain entry to our bed and I put her back on the floor. Back and forth. 97 times. I made my husband take a shift and then my daughter got disoriented and went stumbling around the house looking for me unaware that I was just hiding in the far corner of our bed. Then my son woke up so I pleaded with him to go back to bed and my tone must have been sufficiently urgent because he just turned back around and hid under his covers. But we heard him whimpering so I sent in my husband and I snuggled with my daughter on the floor for a few minutes. That calmed her down but when I got up she started to shriek again. And then she got up and we repeated our exercise a few more times. At this point she has started banging into the bed and tripping over everything because she is so exhausted. I feel like I've been hit by a truck but we remain steadfast. She makes one final effort but I put her back on the floor and tuck her in tightly. Her whimpers subside to aggressive thumb-sucking. And then…silence. We have won the battle.

This morning everyone woke up an hour late. My daughter was unusually grumpy. But it took her about a minute to snap out of it. After breakfast she came into our room and looked at the heap of blankets on the floor and started wagging her finger and saying sternly, no no ni ni, which I can only infer to mean, no sleeping in mommy's bed. You have to go ni-ni on the floor. Poor thing. We'll see how she does tonight. She's a persistent little bugger. But she gets that from me.

Girl's weekend

It's just me and the baby this weekend. The boys went to Lake Powell in Arizona to rent a boat and go camping with my husband's brother and his family. I have to say that it is so easy to take care of one baby. Even solo. I mean, really. Why did I think it was so challenging when my son was born to manage with just the one. It used to take us like an hour just to leave the house and meet friends. How embarrassing...

Anyway, the good news with all of this, in addition to some nice mellow time with her majesty, is that I actually have some time in the evening to do what I want to do. With my son he goes to bed sometimes at 9:30 and after the struggle with the bath and then pajamas and then a snack and then teeth-brushing and then stories and then lullabies and then he needs his water bottle and he forgot to go pee pee and I literally just want to put a pen in my eye from the whole production. So by 9:30 I'm knackered. Just throw me in the hamper.

But not today. 7:45 and baby was out. That wasn't the case though a few nights ago. I just couldn't get the baby to bed. And my son wasn't helping the situation. So I just threw up my hands and said who gives a rat's ass anyway besides Julio. And instead of fighting and dragging on the struggle, we just all went into the living room and watched Olympic platform diving. They loved it. The baby clapped her head off every time a diver hit the water. My son was mesmerized by all the acrobatics. And then at 10pm when my husband came home (he had to work late, which is quite rare thankfully) he put the baby down and I shuttled my son off to bed without incident.

And I gave myself a little pat on the back for going with the flow which, often times, is not in my nature. But baby and I are going with the flow this weekend. I'll let you know where we end up.

Perpendiculous

I'm not a cosleeper. I have nothing against co-sleeping except that I think it prevents all parties from actually getting rest. I certainly like the idea of parents being close to their babies and snuggling into sleep together and spooning all night in a giant heap of bonded human flesh and pajamas. It just doesn't work for me. Because my kids sleep perpendicular. It doesn't matter how many times I line them up or tell them to sleep straight or rearrange them in their sleep, they always end up with either their feet or their heads in my back.

I don't get it. My son is actually getting better at staying parallel but my daughter is in some kind of relentless pursuit of right angles. She just can't line up. The very instant I put her in the bed and lay down next to her she does a half roll with a twist and ends up with her spongy butt on my head. And since it usually happens in the wee hours of the morning because she's started shrieking at 5am and I don't want her to wake up her brother, she generally has seven liters of urine in her diaper and the stench that goes with it.

Last night was particularly bad. She woke up at 3:30 am and since she just had her 18 month shots I didn't want to let her cry. So I picked her up and as we were walking toward my room she pointed toward the kitchen and raised her eyebrows. So I made her a bottle. What a sucker I am. Then we went back to "sleep". After half an hour of her wiggling around with her feet on my neck I'd had enough and put her in her crib. She immediately woke up and started screaming again. A minute later my son starts crying for me to take the baby away. What could I do? I went in to get her and told him to go back to sleep. I then put her on the floor next to me in my room on the quilt where my son sometimes sleeps if he has a nightmare. She's happy again. Five minutes later he comes in and wants to sleep with me too so he lays down on the other side. Now I'm sandwiched. Eventually they both fall asleep and I sneak into my bed. Half an hour later my son wants to still sleep with me so he climbs into bed and at this point I can't even form words I'm so exhausted so I just pull the covers over my head and try to find my happy place which is a king size bed in a locked room in a luxury hotel on a deserted island.

Tonight my husband is at a concert with friends and I had big plans to get everyone in their own beds and asleep by 8:00 pm. Foiled again. My son's in our bed, my daughter's in his bed (perpendicular to the wall of course). I guess that leaves the crib for me.

Asleep at the meal

You've waited several weeks for another post and my apologies to those of you who have checked in day after day, hour after hour, hoping to see an entry (hi mom). Well this will not disappoint. Because today will be a first. Today is a day of many firsts. Today my son got his hair cut and did not cry. Miraculous, I know. Today both of my kids slept until 7:30 am. Pinch me, right? And today, for reasons unknown, my son fell asleep naked at the dinner table eating his quesodilla at 7:00 pm. That sentence alone is bursting with impossibility. First, my son never sleeps naked. I'm not even really sure why he was eating dinner naked. Not only does he not sleep naked, he insists on sleeping with full fleece pajamas (see previous post). Second, he has never fallen asleep at the dinner table. Once he fell asleep in a shopping cart at Costco when he was about two and had a fever, but that's it. Third, he hasn't fallen asleep before 9:00 pm in about a year and a half. These days it's closer to 9:30.

I know what you're thinking. She's lying. How can it be? She's writing fiction. I assure you, it is all true. You can't make this crap up. It's too ridiculous. And in honor of so many firsts, here's another first. A corresponding photo for all to marvel.

And what's even more fantastical, I was able to scoop him up and bring him to his room, put on his underwear and tuck him in without so much as a peep. I'm curious to know what in the world made him so tired. Today we rode our bikes around town but he wasn't even pedaling. He was just sitting on Aba's bike. Then we saw friends and he played with a toy phone the whole time talking to his imaginary friends Vini and Bahn Jahn. We rode home, then walked to a store near by, walked to Starbucks for a little beverage, walked to get his hair cut and then walked home.

But I guess it was enough to wipe him out. He looks so sweet here. Hard to believe this is the kid who inspires so many stories.

Pajama game

I just spent the last two hours dealing with unparalleled irrationality. I had the audacity to suggest to my son that he might wear short pajamas tonight instead of his usual fleece feety pajamas or his long sleeve/long pants combo with socks (never without socks). It is 85 degrees outside tonight. The sun has been down for two hours and the heat is still radiating. It is freaking hot by all accounts so why, in the name of GEORGE JESUS, does my son insist on wearing FLEECE PAJAMAS. I don't get it. It makes no sense. Most of what he does makes no sense but I have come to deal with most of it because most of his nonsense will not cause heat stroke. But when I go in there at night and he's literally roasting in his own sweat, I have to wonder if it's healthy to indulge this, yet another, completely irrational behavior.

So I put my foot down. I said, you want to wear longs, you have to put them on yourself. If you want to wear shorts, I'll put them on right now. So for the next hour he just cried and cried. I finally couldn't take it anymore so I went in there and slapped my fist down on the floor next to his head to scare him and growled, "you will wear these shorts!" Then I sat on him and put those red shorts on while he screamed and kicked. I turned off the light, closed the door and walked away. He continued to shriek.

Five minutes later he walks out wearing his long sleeve shirt tucked into his long pants. He actually did it himself. Then, through his snuffly tears, he asked me to sing him his songs for bedtime. So we went to my bed and we talked about what all had went down and I explained that I just want him to be cool at night. And I apologized for yelling at him. Then I sang him his song and after he said, "Mommy, I think I just want to sleep in my underwear on the bottom." Like it was his idea. Then five minutes later while I'm tucking him in, he says, "Mommy, I think I don't want to wear my shirt. I just want to sleep in my underwear."

WHY DOES HE HAVE TO FIGHT IT!?!? Please tell me there is some evolutionary benefit to him for going through this process. Because I'll tell you straight up I see no benefit for me. In fact, I see major detriment. It's a nightmare to deal with this stuff. And we do it EVERY NIGHT. Every single night there is some kind of mental breakdown over pajamas, or socks, or stories, or teeth or songs. I mean he is lying next to me with sweat pouring down his head and he's telling me he wants to wear his long pajamas. WHY? I don't get it. I guess it's not for me to get. Just for me to navigate. We'll see where we end up tomorrow. Who am I kidding? The minute I fall asleep tonight, he'll be in my room sobbing to have his fleece pajamas back on. And the space heater.

Second shift

As I was driving home from work today I was hatching a plan for the afternoon's activities. It's always around 4:00 as I'm getting in my car to pick up my kids that I start to assess the second shift. Is there food in the house? Is it hot out? Should we go to the park before we eat? Should we go to the park after we eat? Should we even bother with park? What about the blow up pool? Should I invite friends over? Should THEY bring dinner? Should I invite friends over to bring dinner and watch my kids while I go to the movies...?

I knew that today would be at least an order of magnitude less chaotic because Maria came this morning and cleaned the house. I just find it to be next to impossible to cook anything when the kitchen is a pit of disaster. So I called my friend and she met us at home with her son. And it was hot today so I decided to move forward with the blow-up pool idea. Dinner was still a question mark but I figured I'd wing something.

It's so hard to balance though because my kids have to eat something right when they get home. They're starving and unless I've prepared meals for the whole week ahead of time, it's likely they'll have to wait. Which is only my own fault so I give them snacks. But if they eat too many snacks then they don't eat dinner. Genius, I know. It only took me like two years to figure that one out with my son.

Meanwhile, back at the pool, the kids are stripped naked, the pool is five inches deep and I am loving it because they're happy and I have time to think about my next move. Then suddenly, without notice, all three kids abort the pool idea and come trampling in the house dripping wet including the baby who's carrying with her three liters of pool water in her swim diaper. So we switch gears. I hustle everyone outside again and bring out the blueberries. Then my kids sit on the porch naked for the next half hour eating blueberries. Meanwhile I've thrown chicken in the over, steamed some broccoli, and brought out the finger paints for the next round of inspired activities.

So we move on to sidewalk painting, also known as"paint your baby sister." And the chicken is still cooking so I break out the cherries and baby girl is now covered in green paint and red cherry dribble, just as happy as she can be, until finally some food is ready so we pile into the house and the kids eat dinner in their underwear.

And I am so tickled to see sun kissed kids eating broccoli in their underwear that I don't even mind the exhaustion. You wouldn't think it would be so hard to orchestrate just a regular drama-free afternoon. But it is. So when it works out, you somehow feel lifted. I mean, at this moment I can think of nothing better than my two babies sitting naked together on the porch eating blueberries. Except that my husband will be managing the second shift tomorrow.

Housekeeping

So my husband and I just finished our Tuesday night ritual of cleaning the house in preparation for our housekeeper Maria to come tomorrow and clean the house. And I love my husband for indulging me in this behavior. He thinks its RIDICULOUS but he does it anyway because he loves me and he knows that when Maria tries to put away our stuff we can't find it for a month. Last week she put our son's kitty that he sleeps with somewhere and it took us two days to find it. Put it on the bed Maria! It's a stuffed animal! Belongs on the bed! And if clothes are on the floor she'll just wash them willy nilly. Wool sweaters, linen blouses. Doesn't matter what. So every Tuesday night we put away the once-folded clothes from last week sitting on the futon in the back room that are now rifled through and wrinkled. We put all toys in appropriate bins (yes, I categorize toys. For instance, I have a transportation bin and a "makes noise" bin and if Maria puts a tractor in with musical instruments I sort of need a cleansing breath), we put in a load of laundry, I hang up whatever's on the floor in my room and then the house is ready for Maria to clean it.

But to my credit, and Maria's credit, she really does clean the place. Bathroom, kitchen, floors...and she folds a mountain of laundry. Between my son who likes to try on outfits and my daughter who likes to roll around in dirt, we have an endless mess of laundry. Plus the floors, by the end of the week, have serious "texture". My daughter likes to test gravity with her food. Future physicist.

So we do this every Tuesday. And Wednesday I come home from work to the fresh scent of Method ecofriendly cleaning products invigorated by the shine of our floors and the sparkle of the toilet bowl, ready to take on life's next challenge - like figuring out where Maria hid the kitty this week.