I had plans today…grand ones.
I was going to move the contents of my makeshift kitchen into the new cabinets and drawers. I was going to clean and vacuum the downstairs.
I was going to secretly rip up the enormous cardboard box playhouse that has taken over our den while my kids napped and then shrug my shoulders when they asked where it was later.
I was going to bring my daughter to ballet class since my mom had driven down to watch.
And I was going to have everyone in bed early so I could finish up some blogging stuff, organize my office, eat cookies, and then sit in bed on my heating pad. #sciaticaproblems
What actually happened was that I was less than productive with the kitchen organizing. I would do a little bit, then stop. Do a little more, and take another break. Am I really this lazy? (Let’s just blame pregnancy.)
We got back later than intended from an outing to the Discovery Museum. Naps got pushed back. Children were cranky.
My three-year-old wanted to spend time with my mom, so I decided to let her skip her nap before ballet class. Of course, it quickly became clear that she needed a nap. My mom took her for a walk in the stroller and she instantly fell asleep.
While they were out for their stroll, a solicitor knocked on my door, causing my dog to bark and wake up my one-year-old. I listened to the solicitor’s pitch to schedule an estimate for a new roof and then told her that I was not interested but thanks for waking my baby up.
My mom returned with the sleeping Lilly in the stroller and I made the decision to let her sleep (in the stroller that I wheeled into the house) and skip ballet class.
I pondered what the rudest, scariest “NO SOLICITING” sign I could make for my front door would say.
I’m thinking something like this:
(Want that sign for your own door? At the end of the post there’s a PDF file you can download and print with 3 different sizes! Just choose which size you want and cut it out.)
I mean, I already have this sticker right by my doorbell:
but the b**** went ahead and knocked. In the prime baby-napping hours.
Someone on Facebook said that she runs a daycare and has a sign that says, “You wake ’em, you take ’em!” which is another fabulous option.
But back to the story.
My mom went home. My daughter woke up with a fever. Of course tomorrow is one of the two days per week she has school…why wouldn’t it be?
At bedtime there was some type of organized revolt amongst the children. I had thought both would be extra tired, so 7:00 sharp bedtimes would be easy.
As I sit here typing this at 9:35 P.M. I finally just got them both to sleep about twenty minutes ago.
The Benadryl I gave my daughter for her nose somehow made her stay up later. And my son? Who the heck knows what his problem was!
Usually I just lay him in his crib after we read a few books and he falls asleep on his own. Tonight there was screaming and carrying on for close to an hour. I gave up and let them both watch Aladdin in my bed.
When they started asking for snacks like it was some fun Movie Night, I flipped out.
I again put my son in his crib and he just screamed and screamed. (It was one of those moments where if I was a Real Housewife, I would’ve thrown my wine glass across the room. Instead I picked up Elmo and threw him. Not as satisfying.)
After some begging and prayers to God, my son finally calmed down and fell asleep in the glider with me.
By the time I was done with him, my daughter was also asleep. Still in my bed, but asleep. My husband can deal with moving her.
And now that leaves me with 19 minutes before my regularly scheduled 10:00 bedtime…which is plenty of time for cookies.