Battle of the Bedtime

It is after nine at night as I begin to write this. I am sitting here on my recliner with ears intently tuned to the upper floor, where my boys are *supposed* to be sleeping. But they seem to have other plans.


The townhouse we have lived in for the past three years has four bedrooms. One is on the bottom floor and is used as J's office since he works from home. The other three are on the third floor. Ashe and Soren share a room together. Most nights getting them to bed is simple. Soren goes up an hour earlier, and by the time Ashe heads to bed, his little brother is passed out to the world. But on nights where the bed time gets wonky, we sometimes deal with repercussions of two boys sharing a room.

Tonight is one of those nights.

This evening we had a meet the teacher event at Xavier's school. The whole family went, thinking it would be one of those events where you wait to say hello to the teachers then take off. We got there early with the mindset of getting home in time for bedtimes. Oops. Instead, it was a walk through of my oldest sons class schedule, and we sat down for presentations of each class. Half way through, the younger boys were bored out of their minds, so J took them out for ice cream while he waited for Xavier and I to finish.

We didn't get home until eight, way past Soren's regular bedtime, and close to Ashe's. I gave them a few minutes to unwind, then we did our bedtime routine. As I kissed them goodnight I admonished them to behave and go to sleep...no playing!

"Yes, Mommy", they replied.

I headed downstairs, grabbed my laptop and started catching up on email.

(giggle giggle *thump thump* giggle)
I roll my eyes and raise my voice to be heard on the third floor. "BOYS! GET TO BED!"

Silence.



(*thump thump* giggle giggle)
"BOYS!!!"

Silence.

(*thump thump CRASH* little whispers of "SHHHHHH Mommy will hear us!!")

Sadly, I eye my laptop with longing, put it down, and quietly, so as not to give them any warning, I tiptoe up the stairs and into their room. Soren is in Ashe's bed, and the moment he catches sight of my shadow he leaps up and sails across the room into his own. I swear that boy's feet never touched the ground he was moving so fast.

I glared at both kids, Ashe with his eyes shut so tight I thought he would burst a blood vessel, trying to make me believe that he is already asleep, and Soren, wide eyed, watching me warily the way a cat watches a strange dog.

"Boys, it is late. You have got to get to sleep. I'm serious. Stay in bed and no more playing. Am I clear?!"
"Yes Mommy" they say.
I look back and forth between the two of them for a moment, making sure that they understand that I am serious, and then I head back downstairs. I pick up my laptop and wait for the inevitable.

 

(giggle giggle *thump thump* giggle shhhh)

Rolling my eyes and sending silent scathing curses to the ceiling, I tiptoe up the stairs, this time with my laptop in hand, and enter the room. The moment I round the corner both boys fly out of the closet (which is their play fort), leap into the air, and land on their respective beds faster than an Olympic sprinter could even dream of achieving. Despite my annoyance, I was impressed, and began to wonder if I should begin training them for 2020.

We look at one another, boys wide eyed, waiting to see what I will do. I, trying to stare both of them down at the same time, which is only a feat a parental unit can accomplish. I win as the boys lower their heads in shame, either from the fact that they disobeyed, or from the fact that I caught them red handed. Most likely the latter.

"I am not kidding around tonight" I say in a low voice that makes them both lean forward to hear me and lean back into their pillows, knowing that the low voice is a voice to fear. "You two will lie down, and stay in your beds. I do not want to hear another word from you. Now get to sleep!" I glare as the boys scurry under their covers, and close their eyes tight. Sighing, I sit down on the floor by their door, open up my lap top, and prepare to play warden for awhile.

All was quiet as I surfed the web. Over time, the squeaks and shuffles of the twin beds settled, and I thought after a good twenty minutes, that they had finally fallen into a peaceful slumber. Being tired of a long day myself, I heaved a sigh of thanks to the ceiling again, and slowly, silently, made my way downstairs. I sat back into my recliner, closed my eyes, and reflected on the day.

(*thump thump thump* giggle giggle SHHHHHH *thump*)

 

You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!!!

Racing up the stairs I find Ashe and Soren jumping from one bed to the other, whispering and laughing as quietly as they possibly can. They didn't even hear my footsteps, this time I was not even bothering to be quiet, they were too intent on their fun.

As soon as they spot me I swear I heard a muttered "oh shit". Oh shit is right you little heathens. You want to play bed time battle? It is on!


"SOREN INTO BED NOW! ASHE, INTO MY BED NOW! If you can not get to sleep in the same room then I will separate you!"
"No Mommy, no! We'll behave, we promise!"
"You had your chance! Ashe, into my bed right this instant!"

Soren begins to sob as he realizes his partner in crime is now off to do time in another cell and he will be all alone. Ashe, taking on his role as martyr, stoically picks up his blankie, and slowly walks into my bedroom, head held high. It is the ultimate punishment for bedtime battles and he has realized that General Mom has won this particular round.

And yet.....

 

 

 

At this point in time I am exhausted, both physically and mentally. All I want to do is to have my kids in bed and asleep so that I can enjoy just a little bit of free time before I have to start it all over again. I make my way down the stairs, look around the living room, and glance lovingly at the recliner I have been rudely interrupted from for the past hour. I sink into its delicious comfort, snuggle into my spot, kick up the ottoman, and sigh.





And then I shit you not, the next thing I hear is (thump thump thump thump thump). Back and forth, back and forth, across the upstairs hall.


Despite my aggravation I am beyond curious as to who is idiotic enough to still try to escape my hearing, and risk the wrath of mom. And for what?! What could possibly be so damn important to risk it all?

Slowly, I creep up the stairs, keeping low to the ground. I take no chances of having my shadow show before I do. I tread lightly on the stairs, knowing the squeaky spots of each board, and gliding silently passed. The thumping continues, pitter pattering of little feet, racing to accomplish some goal before the end of the world as they know it. But what?

I turn the corner, slouched down like the Grinch on Christmas Eve and peer before me. The hallway is clear, and I am about to rise up when Soren dashes out of his room, racing pell mell for my darkened bedroom, arms filled to capacity with stuffed animals galore. He is bringing his banned brother contraband goods to keep him company at night.

I pop up just as he races by, to where he leaps three feet straight up into the air with a squeak! If his eyes could have gotten any bigger, I swear they would have fallen right out of his head. The moment his feet land back onto the ground he begins to wail, great heaving sobs of despair. Because he knows that he has lost.

Without breaking his song of sorrow, Soren slowly trudges back to bed on his own, gets under the covers, and turns his face to the wall.





It's now ten and I have not heard from them since. I think I won the war, but I doff my hat to Ashe and Soren. It was a hard won battle and they were very worthy opponents. And it took almost all of my parental will power to not laugh out loud at some of their outrageous antics this evening.

Saved by the Eldest!

Told to me by my mom:


Soren runs up to G-ma and asks for a back scratch. She complies. A few minutes later:

Soren: Ahhh, that feels good. Now scratch my arms. (She complies).

Soren: Ok, now scratch my legs. (Which she does. As she is scratching his legs, Xavier wanders downstairs).

Soren: That feels sooo good! Now... scratch my penis.
(G-ma has NO clue how to respond to this and stares, flabbergasted, until Xavier, with an annoyed look on his face responds.)

Xavier: Do it yourself!
Soren: Oh.... ok!


G-ma saved from an embarrassing convo!

Soren's New Hat

I blame J for this.....



Soren has a new hat. Soren tries to wear his new hat all the time at home. Soren thinks its a complete riot that I frantically try to rip it off.


I think I have a right to......

Yup, it's his underwear. And he thinks that he is just the funniest thing in the world. Especially when he sees my face drop in horror when he comes out wearing his new "hat" after he went potty. because, lets be honest folks, how well do you think he really went on his own? I'm pretty sure a drip or two missed the toilet and was sponged up by Buzz Lightyear.

Time Out For Toys

On Monday last week, I had a situation that both scared the shit out of me and hurt like hell. I had the whole day planned out. I was going to drop the kids off at the bus stp, come home and ride my exercise bike, shower and dress, then head out with Soren to a friends house. After, we would stop somewhere cool for lunch, then hit Target to grab a few items we needed at home.

Instead, after I dropped the kids off at the bus stop I started feeling nauseous. Next thing I knew I was bent over the sink, throwing up so hard that my muscles went into convulsions, which cause a massive burst of pain to hit from my base of my neck all the way to my forehead. The pain was so god awful I literally fell to the floor and couldn't get up for a good five minutes.

I tried calling out for J, who was already in his office downstairs with the door shut, but I couldn't call out loud enough. If Ashe or Xavier were home, they would have known to run for Dad instantly. Alas, it was only Soren with me.

While I sat on the carpet, trying to will the pain away enough for me to crawl downstairs for help, Soren came over and patted my shoulder, asked me if I was ok, and when I couldn't answer, he looked around the room with a frown on his face. The next thing I knew he stomped off, grabbed his toys one by one and said "BAD TOYS! YOU HURT MOMMY! TIME OUT FOR YOU!!!"

He proceeded to put two train tracks, three stuffed animals and a mini angry bird figure on the step landing (where we have our time outs) all lined up and looking contrite. Well the stuffed animals did. The angry bird looked a little pissed.

And while this isn't exactly the correct thing to do in an emergency situation, and I know that we'll be learning what to do if mommy gets hurt and no one is around this week, it did help me enough that I could mentally chuckle, which them gave me the strength to hobble downstairs for help. So that you Soren, for that touch of comedy.

It looks like I'm alright. We think I just pinched a nerve or pulled a muscle. I stayed home that day and rested, and J popped up often in case he needed to rush me to ER if it happened again. Fortunately it didn't. I'm ok, just a touch sore now. And irritated since I have to push back all those things I wanted to get done for another day.

Soren's Nothing

Every child had a favorite lovey that they carry around with them, holding it up to show everyone their precious, expecting ooohs and aaahs of adoration for their beloved that they believe is deserved. For most kids it may be a cherished stuffed animal, or a blankie. Soren had a blankie which was his ultimate prized possession, but lately he has changed gears and has a new favorite.

It's his Nothing.

What is a Nothing? Exactly that. But it's his and he carries it around with him wherever we go, showing it off to whoever is nearby.

We'll be sitting on the couch and Ashe will run up to us to show us his newest Lego creation. After we ooh and aah, Soren runs up and yells "Look at my nothing!!!" and proudly shows us his empty hands while grins like a Cheshire cat.

Getting ready to pop in the car each kid always asks to bring one toy. Xavier wants the iPad.Ashe wants a stuffed animal. Soren brings his....nothing.

Knowing toys can't be on the dinner table, Soren starts giggling midway through the meal. When we ask him what's so funny, he bursts out laughing and says his nothing has been on the table this whole time.

The only time its caused issues is when he loses his nothing. Trust me, it's happened. And when that happens, how the hell do you find that which does not exist? Yeah, I don't know either.

Ponies and Centaurs

I'm told often by J that (and I paraphrase here) that I'm a freak of nature because I dream vividly and often. I love to sleep because almost every night I can guarantee that I will be more entertained than I could on Netflix. I dream in color, sound, scent, and touch. Sometimes I watch my dreams like a movie. Other times I'm the main character, and surrounded by a world that feels as real as this one. And I remember them clearly more often than not.

I've been told most people don't dream like this. I kind of feel bad for anyone who doesn't. On the flip side, I will say that I do wake up pretty damn tired almost every morning though, especially if I was the main character in said dream.

Random conversation about some of my dreams between J and me the other night as we're drifting off to sleep:

Me:  So the past two nights I've been dreaming about horses. I think my subconscious is trying to tell me I want a pony
 J: (snorts) oh yeah?
Me: Well, not really. Ponies are assholes. But a horse would be super awesome.
J: Horses are not happening in the near future. How about instead you get a centaur
Me:..... You think a horse isn't happening, but you want me to get a centaur? A mythical being?
J: Sure!
Me: You realize that centaurs are notorious for being big into sexuality, right?
J: So?
Me: So you're telling me that you would rather me jump on the back of a half horse, half man, who is legendary for their sexual prowess?
J: Who said anything about the centaur being male? Get a female centaur.
Me: But then I'd have to wrap my arms around her boobs. And that's just awkward.
J: I would think boobs would be better to hold on to than pecs. More fluff to hold on to
Me: I don't want a female centaur! Can't I just have a horse?
J: Nope
Me: sigh

Toy Cleansing

There must be a mathematical formula that states that when you have children living in your household, the amount of toys that takes over your living space is quadrupled per child, even if you don't buy toys. It's got to be proven somewhere. I swear, toys multiply faster than rabbits. Slot A into slot B and all that jazz. So when you have three children, you have enough toys to keep an orphanage happily entertained for years.

And if you are a parent, you KNOW you take your life and sanity into your very own hands if you ever try to do a toy cleansing while a child is within 5 miles of your house. They may not hear you yelling at them to clean their room when they are ten feet away from you, but the moment your hand even slightly brushes against a plastic car with the thought of maybe tossing it into the trash, the kids are on your ass glaring down at you as if you just killed their puppy. You just can't win.

Which is why I ship the kids to Grandmas once in awhile so I can do a toy cleansing in peace. She lives two hours away, so even if they had a weird super power to hear me clearing out broken bits of their latest happy meal toy, there is no way the could convince my mom to drive like a bat out of hell and get back in time before I bagged and dumped them. 

Which is exactly what I just did. I happily sent my kids away and the following day I pulled out a box of trash bags, my cup of coffee, threw Pandora on my laptop, and went to town tossing toys. I tossed broken toys, toys not played with for years, toys that haven't seen the light of day since my boys were mere babes.

Want to know how many toys were taken to their final resting place? Five trash bags worth. Five bags, groaning under the weight of sheer plastic. Also, I got rid of My Little Creepy Pony. And yes, at the dump, I danced the jig of freedom, right there, under the eyes of the trash attendants. When one raised his eyebrow at me, I pointed to that pink freaky rocking horse and said "This toy? Scariest toy ever. It'll give you nightmares. Trust me." Best feeling ever to get rid of that thing once and for all.

Twenty bucks says that the kids wont even freaking notice when they get home.

COCK WITH ME!

Listening to little kids as they start to navigate the way of words and talking is one of the most entertaining times of having kids. It's probably my all time favorite thing about toddlers and preschoolers. And three kids later, Soren has yet to disappoint.

In the past few weeks, Soren has gone from trying very hard to say one or two word sentences, to having full on conversations that one can follow. We now have three kids who can debate and argue us and each other. And while my head does start to pund a little sooner in the afternoon, it's fun to watch the conversations flow. However there are a few words he has trouble with.

Obviously he can't say Xavier yet, so Soren has given his oldest brother his very own nickname: Yay-yay. I've found myself accidentally calling out Yay-yay instead of Xavier or Zavi once or twice. The funny part is that Xavier answers to it without batting an eye.

Soren uses Xavier's namke as his testing ground for other words. If a word is too hard he'll tell us "No, too hard, like Yay-Yay. I can't say it." And that's that.

The other funny thing Soren has done on his own, is to try and learn a new word per day. But ONLY one! If you try to teach two words a day he freaks out and says " I ALREADY learned new word today!!! That word for tomorrow!"


Adding all of these together, Soren has made SRM history in saying one word so wrong that I have been equally laughing my ass off and embarrassed when we're out in public. For the word talk, he says cock. And it has made for some funny moments.

When our car was having apocalyptic fits, I had to take the kids with me all over kingdom come to get it fixed. And there were many times that we sat in waiting rooms while we waited for a diagnosis, or new tires, or a new valve. And every time we would sit there, Soren would yell to me at one point or another "MOMMY, COCK WITH ME!!!" "HEY MOMMY, I'M COCKING TO YOU!!!" You can't make this shit up. And of course, every time he made these statements it would be a Volume 11, in a room filled with older adults, and every eyebrow would raise an inch or three and look back and forth between my and my tiny two year old, waiting to see my reaction.

While inwardly I had a moment of cringing, it never failed to make me laugh. Then I'd try to teach him the correct way.

Me: Soren it's TALK, not cock.
Soren: NO! TOO HARD, LIKE YAY-YAY. 'SIDES, I ALREADY LEARNED NEW WORD TODAY. WILL YOU COCK WITH ME?
Me: Soren, I am talking to you. Hey, you know what? It's not really a hard word. I bet you can say it. Say T.
Soren: T
Me: There you go! Now try Ta
Soren: TA
Me: Awesome! OK now, try talk.
Soren: COCK! COCK COCK COCK!
Me:.... Almost. Let's try again
Soren: I SAID IT! I SAID COCK!
Me: Yeah.... I know. But it's talk. Tah.
Soren: (in a very serious stage whisper) I already learned new word today. We try again tomorrow, ok?

Traditions

Every family has their own special traditions that they follow for certain things: some families always get together during specific holidays. Maybe a special food item is always made. Maybe everyone wears a color coordinating sweater.
 For my household, we follow a special tradition for the boys birthdays, that started when we moved down to NC. We always have a blue frosting cake from Harris Teeter, because it dyes everything it touches blue, including when it comes back out. Yes, people, I'm talking poop.

 I realize how weird this sounds. I blame my friends for this tradition. When we celebrated Ashe's first birthday here, we had no clue about the blue frosting and it's long lasting hold. I was naive when I purchased giant blue frosted cupcakes to serve at his little party. It wasn't until every child in my dining room was being wiped down with zero results on fixing the smurf like faces, and the massively blue diapers that followed for days after, that I realized this blue frosting was serious shit. No pun intended.

It became a joke amongst my friends who were there at that first party. Anytime my boys had a birthday coming up, they would ask if I'd have the radio active frosting cake. And just to lovingly tweak their noses, I made sure I did. And soon it became the tradition we follow for every birthday party.

Soren's birthday party this past weekend followed tradition. We had not one, but two cakes this week with the freaky frosting: one for his actual birthday and the other for the party. The boys fingers are still blue. Most of the same friends from Ashe's first party came with their kids, baby wipe packages in hand and ready for action, laughing all the while.

While it was still cool in the morning hours, the kids played outside with bubbles, balls, hula hoops. and baseball bats. The parents drank soda, talked about gaming, Dragon Con, and stats. Yes, many of my friends are gamers too. And then we sang happy birthday to Soren, and I cut the cake. I also, still have blue fingers.

Traditions come in many shapes and sizes. Some you don't even expect to create. They happen on their own, and have a way of becoming a part of who your family is.  While we don't wear color coordinated sweaters (And please shoot me if we ever do.... no offense to those of you who may call that your own) our own traditions mean something to us. They make us laugh, and remember special times in our lives that are meant to be celebrated.

Harris Teeter, don't ever stop making that radio active blue frosting. And thanks for helping us make a cool tradition to follow for each birthday.

Happy Third Birthday Soren!

Dear Soren,

Today is your third birthday. You have been on this earth for 1095 days. And in that short time you have turned my world upside down, rocked it, and I could never imagine life without you.

Thank you for everything that you are. You are an AMAZING person, and you continue to amaze me every day we share together.

I love the fact that you can say the word Massachusetts, but you still yell out "COCK WITH ME, MOMMY!" in public, because you can't properly say the word "talk" yet.

I love the fact that you are an avid Angry Bird fan, and you have mastered many levels on your own without my help. Honestly kid, I suck at that game, and appreciate the fact you don't hound me when I tell you I can't help you unlock a new level.

I love the fact you willingly potty trained for M&M's almost a year ago, and you still think you should get chocolate every time you pee.... even if you don't make it.

I love the fact that every time you do go potty, you hop around in frantic circles in the living room yelling "PEE" while you try to get your pants down in time.

I love the fact you still have a furry fetish. At last count I believe you are up to 46 stuffed animals, 23 of which are puppies.

I love the fact you can now say "I wuff you, Mommy". I've been waiting for that moment ever since you were born.

I love that you can keep up with your brothers and sometimes even put them in their place. Just try and be careful not to bounce too hard on their faces when you wrestle them to the ground and sit on them to keep them there. If you break Ashes glasses again, I'm not going to be happy.

I love that your favorite food is broccoli and you even want it for breakfast. Sometimes I wonder if you're actually human due to that little quirk, but I'll take it.

I love the fact that you can count up to twenty but you freak out if I try to sing to you the Alphabet Song. Although to be fair, you freak out when I try to sing ever. You know kid, my voice isn't that bad. I can actually sing in tune.

I love the fact that each night that I tuck you in, you insist that I tuck you in "Pirate Style" arrrrh!

There is so much that I love about you. But most of all, I love seeing you happy, curious, determined, and loving your family. You are so loved and cherished by us all. Thank you for everything and keep it up. This year has been so much fun. I can't wait to see what you have in store for us this year.



     Love with all my heart,
                          Mom

Words Not Needed

I was going through photos looking for images for my next blog and I came across this.... and I nearly pissed my pants laughing. A picture speaks a thousand words, and no words could truly describe this photo. I should really make this my new graphic logo of the boys

Batman Does Not Wear Underwear

So proclaimed Ashe this afternoon. We were sitting down for lunch preparing to head out to the Super Hero’s event at a local museum. I was not expecting to butt heads with a 4 yr old on wearing underwear underneath his Batman costume when we went out in public.






Ashe’s costume from last year is a bit small now. In fact we had to use a safety pin in the back to ensure his entire, ahhh, backside, was put on public display. But as we went to pin him in, J realized Ashe had forgotten to put on undies. Ashe was told we would not go if he didn’t put on any before we left.


“But Batman doesn’t wear underwear”! he whined.


“Yes he does” we parents replied. “Everyone wears underwear. Even Batman.”


“No, only fake Batmen wear underwear. The real Batman does not. He doesn’t need underwear.”


“We’re not going if you don’t put on underwear.”


“I can’t put on underwear. I am the real Batman!”


And around it went, Ashe stubbornly clinging to this (mental?) image that the real Batman does not wear anything but his costume. This is not the type of conversation I expected to ever have when I signed up to parent. I completely expected taking my kids dressed in crazy outfits out in public (I was willing to pick my battles) . I was ready to hear that my children have taken on the persona of their favorite Hero. What I was not ready to hear though, was that my 4 yr old thought Super Hero’s went around without skivvies and he wanted to do the same.






In the end we came up with a compromise. Ashe, I mean Batman, would wear underwear but they had to be Super Hero undies. It was ok in his mind that they were The Incredibles. And only once while we were out, did I peek those Super Hero undies poking through, covering Batmans bottom.

Wookiee

Words are interesting things. Some words are direct, straight to the point. Others are elegant, eloquent, capturing an image in your mind filled with color, innuendo, etc. And others are just damn funny. I love the funny words. Like shampoo. I remember once as a kid I said the word shampoo over and over again until it virtually lost all meaning and became just a combination of funny sounds until I couldn’t stop laughing whenever I said it. Even to this day I smile when I say the word shampoo. Now in my defense I have never once said I was totally sane, but have you ever done that? Taken a word and repeated it over and over until it becomes not the definition of something you know, but an entirely alien word, it’s meaning lost and insignificant?



Shampoo. Shampoooooo. Shampoo…..





OK I’ll stop.



There are other words that fit this description but none have ever made me giggle as much until yesterday when my kids introduced me to the fun of repeatedly saying another one:



Wookiee.



It started off as a normal afternoon as I picked Xavier up from school with Ashe and Soren. After he launched himself into the rebel van Ashe, desperately trying to get his older brothers attention yelled “HEY ZAVI! I GOT A WOOKIEE!!!” Xavier turned around and looking at Ashes action figure of Chewbacca yelled in horror

“ASHE! YOUR WOOKIEE IS BROKEN!”

“MY WOOKIEE IS NOT BROKEN!”

“Uh, yeah, your Wookiee is missing a leg.” I looked in the rearview mirror as I waited in line and watched his mouth drop in horror.

“OH NO!!!! MY WOOKIEE IS MISSING A LEG! MOM! MY WOOKIEE’S LEG IS BROKEN!”

“I can fix your Wookiees leg, Ashe” Xavier offered.



A moment of fumbling around and I hear “OK Your Wookie is good now.”

“YAY! YOU SAVED MY WOOKIEE! HEY, WANNA HOLD MY WOOKIEE?”



And at that point, I lost it. I mean seriously, I think I did a good job holding it in until then. I showed restraint of a saint. But when Ashe asked if Xavier wanted to hold his wookiee it was just too much for me. I burst out laughing. And behind me I hear Soren start laughing too, which makes me laugh harder. And then the boys join in and the 4 of us are just cracking up.

For the 10 minute car ride home Xavier and Ashe tried to outdo each other using the word Wookiee. And every time I would burst out laughing. This kept Soren belly laughing behind me, thus causing this never ending cycle of laughter, a few snorts, and tears rolling down my eyes. Juvenile? You betcha! It was awesome.

Wookiee. Woooookieee. Wookiee.