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.

Strike 2

Soooooo, you know how I said only just a few hours ago I was sure knowing my kids I'd get another fiasco photo op soon? Yeah, about that. I have one already.

So today I cleaned the living room and reassured myself it was totally baby proof. Safety plugs in electrical sockets? Check. All little toys way out of reach? Yup. Anything potentially heavy way up safe and sound and no way for them to fall? Taken care of.

I swept and mopped, checked under the couch and tv for anything potentially hazardous and felt secure in the fact I did my job as a Mommy. Then Soren woke up from his nap, I fed him 2 servings of baby food, placed him gently on the newly clean and baby safe floor, and popped upstairs for 3 minutes tops to check email, always keeping an ear out for trouble...





Trouble doesn't always make a sound though.


I don't have any clue where he found it or if it was something Ashe had and left within a babys grasp, but I came downstairs and gasped when I saw this:

For any of you trying to figure out what that is, that, my friends, is Fun Dip. Yes, my 8 month old baby is covered in Fun Dip next to an ever innocently whistling 3 yr old.

3 minutes folks. That's all it takes. And now Soren is forever immortalized, as the Baby Terror of Trouble. I swear I do try to be a good mom. You guys just get to see the worst parts of my Mommydom. Cause the worst parts are always the funniest.

And It Begins

I totally lost my nomination for Mother of the Year award yesterday. And it's only February, the second month in the new year. That's got to be a record of some sort, though not the kind I really want to shout about.

You see, I was sitting on the kitchen floor with Ashe and Soren, peeling Clementines for the two of them to devour. Sounds picturesque, right? Except for the fact I was really trying to peel them for me to eat since I hadnt had any sort of food but a handful of Jr. Mints and 4 cups of coffee, and it was 4pm and I was starving, but the two buzzards, I mean angels, kept zooming in the moment one was peeled and would reach out their hands with puppy eyes pleading as if I hadn't already fed them several times that day. But like a good Mom, I gave them my fruit, would start to peel another, and resignedly hand it over (again) when those arms reached out for more.

Beside Ashe, of course, was a cup of chocolate milk. Usually he has it in a sippy cup to prevent spills but all his sippy cups have mysteriously disappeared minus the one for his preschool which I never use in case, it too, decides to take flight and leave me when I am already rushing out the door in my PJs trying to get him there on time and I have to start a search and rescue team with 30 seconds to spare. Instead he had it in a BIG BOY cup with a straw. We're sitting there chilling, my stomach growling in harmony with the growls and gasps of delight from my boys as they shove fistfuls of orange into their little mouths, when Xavier arrives from school. Without thinking I get up, forgetting bout the cup, to greet him and help usher him to the table and start his homework. While my back is turned, rifling through his backpack to pull out his folder I hear him clear his throat.
"Uh, Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Ashes chocolate milk cup spilled in the kitchen."
"What? Oh, ok I'll go grab a towel in a sec. Thanks."
"...Uh, Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Sorens in the chocolate milk."

I turn around to see this image, now forever burned into my brain. Soren had army crawled 5 feet in a matter of maybe 30 seconds, overturned Ashes cup, and was face down in the middle of the puddle, arm around each side to keep the milk from spreading too far, lapping it up like a cat with cream, and a beatific smile upon his face.

Now here's where I lose my Mommy Award nomination. I actually stood there for a moment, my mind racing wondering what to do? Do I go race over to him and take him out of his heavenly puddle of chocolatey goodness? Or do I look for my camera first and get a snapshot????

Mommy mode kicked in and I decided to pick him up. I kid you not when I reached over to him he growled at me! I turned him over to look at my baby, covered head to toe in milk and Olvaltine, from his tiny head all the way to his footy toes. He looked at me with a gigantic grin on his face, burped, and said
"ahhhhhhhh".




I'm really kicking myself that I didn't take a picture now. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words, and I lament the fact I can not show you what I got to see. Maybe next time. And knowing my kids, I feel safe in saying there probably will be a next time. Especially now that Soren is officially mobile.

The Witching Hour

Every family has one. Every parent fears them. You can not escape it, no matter how hard you try. It's impossible to do so. And it happens EVERY DAY. That one point in your waking hours when your nightmares come true,  the clock strikes a certain hour and time halts to an agonizing crawl. Each minute feels like 5 and you find yourself glancing at the clock over and over and over again, pleading with the second hand to hurry the heck up and just MOVE FASTER!!! On top of this, the moment the clock strikes your hour, your kids suddenly morph into these little hellions, bent on utterly destroying what little sanity you may yet still cling to, different tactics each day but always with the same nail on the chalkboard intensity, and nothing, nothing you do, will stop them. You can't bribe them. You can not reason with them. You can't use warnings and get an effect. Time outs mean nothing to them. No. Oh no. You are on your own, dearie. And you must use your wits to survive and stay sane, always struggling with that instinctive desire to run out of the house screaming, pulling at your hair, and spouting gibberish. This awful time of the day is different for each family, sometimes even different for each parent. And there is nothing you can do but to hold on and ride it out. What is it that I speak of? This point in time that is so dreadful it can make any parent reduced to shudders, wincing at the thought of yesterdays hour, dreading the return of todays? My friends, It is called The Witching Hour.


The Witching Hour for me is from 4:30-5:30 pm every single day without fail. This is the time in my day that I prepare for from the moment my eyes open in the morning. The moment the clock turns to 4:29 I heave a sigh of resignation, take a few deep breaths, try to mentally shield myself from what I know is about to come, and shed just one, small mental tear of despair. Then I make sure to dive for my Ipod (the only weapon against the hour I have found to be  worthy and has saved me many times over), clip it on, and dive into the hour that Time forgets.

In this hour many things occur simultaneously. The least of which is that I have to start preparing dinner for a family of five to be ready by 5:30. Then I have to get my 7 yr old to start, and stay on track of, his homework. While I wrangle him to the table, I must also deal with the inevitable screams and howls of outrage from my infant who has decided (right at 4:30) that I MUST pick him up now and hold him nonstop, while trying to open hot oven or stir hot pots, slice and dice, pour, and sauté. I'll be honest folks. I've almost completely given up on fresh food. I am a huge fan of frozen dinners lately. Of course I have to weigh the risks of holding the baby while cooking vs. the shattered eardrums that may come with leaving him nearby in sight but not held, adding in the factor that of course J, who works from home, is on an important phone call and so I have to try and keep everyone at least to a decibel level that does not reverberate through the entire household. Next, as I am arguing with my 7 yr old who has decided all of a sudden he is STARVING and must eat now, and doesn't want to wait for dinner, which causes an argument about how its my fault he has to wait to eat, completely disregarding the fact that I offered him a snack the moment he walked in the door from school 30 minutes ago but he refused because he wasn't hungry then...... my 3 yr old decides he is a dog and wants me to play Fetch with the TV remote control. I try to redirect him to something else while I glances at the stove and notice that something doesnt smell right (OH CRAP THE WATER IS BURNING.... HOW DO YOU BURN WATER?!??!?!?!) while also glancing to see that it's only 4:34. 56 minutes to go.

Of course as I am trying to redirect my 3 yr old he accidentally steps on the babys finger which elicits a piercing shriek followed by sobs. I rush to lower the temperature of the stove, dive down to scoop up the baby and comfort him, then ask my 3 yr old to please PLEASE would you like to go watch Dora????... No, he doesn't. He wants to do homework like his older brother. With the same paper. No, not the same kind of paper, that would be too easy!!! The same piece of paper. of course, my normally deaf 7 yr old hears this across the room and starts to yell at his brother "YOU CAN'T HAVE MY PAPER I'M DOING MY HOMEWORK" as I notice in reality all he has done is put his name on the paper and started doodling a Star Wars figure at the top right corner. Juggling the baby on my hip I tell one boy to lower your voice, the other he cant have his brothers paper he needs his own, and start scrambling around looking for some crayons. Next I lean over to my 7 yr old, tell him he needs to start his homework and I will check back in 5 minutes. If nothing has been done he will get a time out for not following directions. Then I race over to the kitchen, place the sobbing baby in his excersaucer, throw some baby snacks to him, check the time. 4:40 pm  50 minutes to go.


I grab the entree, throw it in the oven, and start figuring out what would be a good side item. In the background I hear emerging mutterings from the two older tyrants, which soon turn to all out screams of defiance and outrage. I whip around and see my two boys in a tug of war over a pencil. Not just any pencil. A Transformer pencil, one of about 73 we have in our junk drawer 2 feet from me. Why they feel the need to fight over something that we have plenty of I could never tell you. I just don't have an answer. I dont know who started it, and frankly I dont care. I reach out to our drawer, grab a fistful of pencils, jump over the excersaucer and wailing baby to get to the table, and slam down my filled hand urging each boy to "Knock it off there are plenty of pencils!!!" I glance over at my 7 yr olds homework. He's written 3 words on his paper. I glare at him and mouth "Do. Your. Homework....Now." He glares back and mutters under his breath, but his hand moves with a pencil in grasp and under my hawk eye, incredibly he starts to write. After keeping my gaze on him for a moment more to solidify the fact that I am indeed watching, I glance down at my 3 yr old to make sure he is fine and not coloring on the table top, but actual paper. I bustle back to the kitchen, croon my my ticked off baby, give him a kiss, detach his clenched hands in my hair, and check both the food and the time. 4:54 pm.


This is when I bring out my weapon. I look to make sure all the kids are relatively safe and all the knives are high up enough so that no one can sneak by, grab one, and start playing "REAL PIRATES", double check to make sure the baby is safely contained I have a stock of baby toys to alternately try and tame him with, then plug my ears up with my I Pod ear plugs, hit play, and turn the volume up high enough that I can hear nothing but music. I have found, after trying multiple songs and only getting a positive feedback consistently, that if I play the song "Do You Want To Date My Avatar?" and sing it each time to the baby, he looks like he stops crying and once in awhile I catch a glimmer of a smile. On those very rare occasions I can catch what looks like a laugh erupt on his facial features. I could be wrong. I can't hear anything by this time. But I tell myself he is, and set to work on dinner, singing and dancing. Once in awhile I walk over to the table to make sure my 7 yr old is doing his homework, and doing what I can to make sure he stays doing it until it is complete. I then check to make sure my 3 yr old is alive, well, and if he is destroying the living room by then, I can at least sigh in relief knowing that nothing breakable is valuable.  Then  making sure dinner is ok on it's own, I place the baby in his high chair, grab some food for him, and settle down to get splattered with liquid ham and pineapples. Im now fighting to keep sane and dinner on the table at the appropriate time by drowning myself in my music.

It usually takes about 7 or 8 repetitions of the song before I am almost home free. At 5:25 I pull off my plugs, bark out that homework time is done and if it hasn't been completed he can do it after dinner but for now please clear the table. I send my other boy up to tell J it's time for dinner. I get out plates and utensils, place them side by side, and dole out portions, cutting up the kids so they are easy bites. I throw pots and pans into the sink, pull out 4 cups, pick a drink for us all (sometimes wine for Mommy) and by 5:30 I have everyone at the table, sitting down, eating (most of the time) and happily chatting about their day.


After dinner is done, the kids have put their dishes in the sink and I have loaded and turned on the dishwasher, I take a step outside and breathe. It's now Js turn to watch the kids so I can take a break and bask in the glory that I have survived yet another Witching Hour. I have 23 hours left before I must go through it again. Poor J though. His Witching Hour starts at about 7 pm each night, when he puts the two older boys to bed. I mentally wish him luck.


Photo courtesy of craziestgadgets.com

My Real Fantasy

Alight, so you are going to hate me. Hell, I'd hate me too if I wasn't me. But I am me, and I'm going to share something that will make any parent who is not me jealous. Ready?.....


I got to have a night out. Not just any night out where I had to come home at 3 am and deal with kids in the morning either. It was a full night out, complete with a hotel room SANS KIDS!!!!.....




..... and it was as awesome as you can fantasize. J and I fell asleep with big smiles on our faces knowing we didn't have to worry about being rudely awakened from our slumber by a crying infant or someone who didn't make it to the potty in time and needed a change of clothes (and sheets). We woke up at 8:30 in the morning, looked at the clock, looked at each other, and rolled back over and passed out again in pure bliss. We didn't get up until 10:30 and that was only because we knew if we passed back out again we may miss our hotel check out time.

For the first time in over 3 years (roughly 1095 days, give or take a month) we had a night out. yes, I am taking advantage of my mom finally living close by enough to watch over the kiddos during the weekend. Although she is practically shooing us out of the house too, offering to pay for a hotel just to get us out. I heart my mom. And already I am fantasizing about our next night out. I don't know when it will be, but I plan on trying to make this a little bit more regular. Maybe twice a year! Oh wow that would be so awesome!!!! I'm mentally drooling at the thought!

There were no crumbs in the bed, left over from kids deciding to come "cuddle you" in our bed. There were no squeaky toys hiding under the covers to scare the crap out of me as I tossed in my sleep. There were plenty of covers and pillows to go around without having to fight for that corner of quilt.

And the silence. I now understand the saying "Silence is Golden". I felt it. There was no moniter playing radio music just loud enough to be an annoying buzz in my ear as I tried to both sleep and listen for any rustlings of the baby. There was no pounding of kids feet above my head as they rushed to the bathroom, sounding just like a herd of pachyderms racing through our second floor. There was no hushed giggling at 4 in the morning as one boy tried to shine a book light in the eyes of his brother trying to wake him up (this happened last night by the way and I am seriously reconsidering that book light Xavier got as a Christmas gift.) None of that. Just J and I, in a cozy bed, with the shades closed to keep out the sunlight, and the sandman whacking us upside the head putting us into a blissful, uninterrupted slumber.

Man I forgot how good a decent nights sleep feels! of course, now that I had a taste of it, I want more. A lot more.

If You Don't Have Boys...

look at all the fun you miss out on. I woke up this morning after a very rough night of little sleep. As I step out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee in hand I almost jumped when I saw the dining room table and what was on it...

No, that's not a real Cockroach, as I thought initially. It's one of Ashes toy Cockroaches he got for Christmas. One of the boys must have been playing with it and left it oh so cleverly by a forgotten morning sandwich. Proof it's not real? I picked it up

Just a typical morning in a household filled with boys and their bug toys. No coffee was spilled or harmed so it's all good.

Chocolate, Crafts and 3 Year Olds

I promised my FB friends I'd post a blog about todays adventure in lollipop making so here it is, pictures and all!

Today I did something I never attempted to do before. I decided to try and make chocolate Lollipops for Valentines Day with Ashe. Yeah, I suck in the crafty department. Mainly I fear scalded skin, scissor scrapes, and all the other assorted types of injuries that come with Elmers Glue and glitter. Especially knowing my accident prone 3 yr old. I swear he sneezes and we end up in ER. But today I took a chance in the hopes of doing something that would be equally fun and yummy!

After Sorens morning nap I wheedled, whined, and finally ordered Ashe to get on his shoes because we were headed to AC Moores to grab some stuff and make Valentine lollipops for his preschool. After compromising by allowing him to bring his Indiana Jones snake and "Dadet" (his blankie) to the car, he agreed to tag along and follow the rules (Stay wif Mommy and Fowwow Drections) of shopping. Once there he peacefully followed me around as I searched for molds and chocolate.

One home, I put Soren in his high chair to watch the entertainment, along with some snacks, and Ashe and I got down to work. Thank you Carey, for the ingenious idea of microwaving the chocolate bits instead of the stove! It worked like a charm. We prepped everything, melted the chocolate, and Ashe had a lot of fun putting the sticks in the molds. Then onto the chocolaty goodness part!

Ashe carefully spooning melted chocolate into the mold while I kept reminding myself my cell phone was in my back pocket in case I needed to call 911 for potential burns. Neurotic much? Yup.It wasnt even that hot, but I just dont trust anything with Ashe... or is it the other way around?

After a few attempts at pouring chocolate into the mold some chocolate got onto Ashes fingers. Now I always forget that despite dirty faces, my kids, all of them, are OCD about getting something on their hands. They just flip out until its washed off. I dont know where this comes from and its not for any other body part. So once a dribble of chocolate touched Ashes fingers he decided he was just DONE with spooning. Instead he happily licked a spoon and watched Mommy. 

Don't let his frown fool you. He enjoyed every bit. Trust me. 

Of course Soren didn't want to be left out. He got a spoon too. And a new outfit, shortly after.

While waiting for Mommy to finish up, Ashe went off to do a few more crafts. We went with a Ladybug theme (his favorite bug EVAR... but Cockroaches come in close second) and he made a Ladybug photo frame, a necklace, and colored in a wooden heart which he proudly displayed for the camera every time he saw my pick up my digi cam...

Finally they were cooled off enough to pop out and put in bags, ready for delivery! I have to say they came out great. I didnt have one, but both Ashe and Xavier got one lollipop. While Ashe was too busy to tell me how it was with the entire pop shoved in his mouth, Xavier promised me it was like "Paradise"... his words, not mine. We made enough for Ashes preschool, the boys to give to one another, a few family friends, and Grammy and Grampa. So yay! 

Frog and Ladybug Chocolate Lollipops

Mission accomplished. I tried something new and no one ended up hurt woot! I may get crazy enough to try this more often. Who knows?

My Superhero

"Mommy will you be my Robin?"

I glance over and see Ashe in PJs, topped with his Batman winter hat and Batman gloves. He's peeking out of his hat, pushed way down so he can barely see, and he is watching me, breathlessly awaiting my response.
"Of course. I'll be your Robin."
"Ok you be Robin, I Batman. Who Soren?"
"How about The Joker?" I suggest.
"OK! And Zavi is Penguin, and Daddy is Batmobile."
My thirteen yr old boy mind kicks in and I want to quip does that mean I get to ride Daddy? But I don't. I giggle inwardly instead.

This is a common scenario in our house lately. Ashe loves everything his older brother does (Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Transformers) but his love of Batman is his own. It started around his birthday when friends of ours, who have a boy Ashes age and loves Batman, got him a Bat plane for a gift. It's been love ever since. For Christmas, Ashe got the Bat Cave from Santa, filled with figurines of the legendary hero, his sidekick, and of course, what set wouldnt be complete without villains to fight? Ashe and Zavi love to play with it together, not fighting over the figurines, only who gets to move the elevator shaft.

When it started getting cold enough to think about hats, we went shopping and Ashe found his dream hat and matching mittens: Its a Batman hat, complete with Batmans face and bat ears like Batmans mask. So now, even indoors, Ashe insists on wearing it pretty much nonstop. 

Our local Batman taking a break from fighting crime

It's pretty much a guarantee that at some point in the day I will be asked if I am his Robin, or sidekick. And I always say yes. While I don't have to wear a grotesque green bodysuit with red and yellow underwear over (Thank you for small favors), I think to myself this is a good parallel to what it is to be a Mom or Dad:  to be there for your kids, letting them know that you're always by their side ready to help if they need it, but letting them learn and conquer new things on their own as much as possible, while cheering them on. 

Yesterday Ashe replaced his Batman hat with a green snake and was whipping it around the house with a scowl on his face. Concerned he was upset over something (he was really scowling) I asked him what was up.

"Mommy I Indie Jones! This is my Snake Whip!"

"Oh. Ok Indie, just make sure you whip that on the ground and not at people."

"Why?"

"Because you could hurt someone."

"OK. I no hurt someone. Only bad guys."

"Thanks Superhero."

I'm grateful he loves the good guys and isnt trying to emulate the villains like Xavier does. It's nice when the two of them play together. I dont have to break up any arguments over who will be who. Just who wins.

Genetics

I love genetics. When I was in high school biology I remember a lesson that started my love for them. We were learning about dominant and recessive genes and used eye and hair color as examples. Since that lesson I've always been interested in gene make up and it came into play a lot when I first became a Mom.

One lesson I remember learning was that blonde hair and blue eyes are recessive genes, whereas darker hair and brown eyes are dominant. When J and I began dating (I was still in high school) he had dirty blonde hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. His hair has since darkened to a light brown, but his eyes are as penetrating and arresting as ever. I, on the other hand, have hazel eyes that change color depending on my mood, and dark brown hair, bordering on black. So when we married and talked kids, in the back of my mind I just assumed due to genetics and percentages that we would probably have dark haired, hazel eyed kids. Especially seeing as I do not know off the top of my head anyone in my family with blue eyes. I assumed both genes passed on to me from my parents were the dominant darker gene.

So imagine my surprise when Xavier was born, and he had Js eye color hands down, and they never changed over the months that baby eyes tend to. If what I learned back in high school was correct, it meant that I carried the blue eye gene too, but have hazel eyes because of the dominant gene. And as his fuzz grew in at a year old he was definitely blonde blonde blonde. And I remember thinking to myself then, how funny that genetics works out this way, and here we have a child with a 25% chance (now that I know I carry the blue eye gene) to have a child with blonde hair or blue eyes, yet we have a child with both! I thought it was great, but that he would probably be our one and only carbon copy of J.

Then Ashe arrived. Same startling blue eyes, same blonde hair though with a tinge of honey color to it. And I thought, how odd, who would have thunk that we could get 2 children with the same recessive traits from two adults, one of which (me) carries the ever dominant dark hair dark eye genes?

Then we got pregnant with Soren. And I half jokingly said there was no way in hell we would have 3 for 3 in regards to coloring. This baby would have either dark hair and blue eyes, or blonde hair and dark eyes, or dark hair and dark eyes and one child would finally look like me. There's no way I could be the only dark haired dark eyes person in the family, especially seeing as I was destined to be the only female in our family unit. But when he was born and turned those big blue eyes to stare fuzzily into my face I knew it was to be a false hope. True to form, he has Js eye color and his fuzz is just as blonde as his two older brothers. He's beautiful. They all are.

I started searching for what part of me I passed on to my kids when I noticed each one looks like J. People say they look like me when they see us together, but almost every person who has said that and then sees them with J has retracted their statement and agree they are carbon copies of my husband. I take that as a major compliment because J is pretty damn good looking. But in the (almost) 8 years of being a Mom I can think of only one time someone saw us all together and they said the boys look like me. In fact it only happened a few months ago and I remember being excited, poking J in the arm whispering "Did you hear that? Wow! He said they look like me!!" The only statement I get often I can agree with is they have my eye shape. But thats about it in the physical category. However they definitely carry some of my genes in the personality department.

Xavier is stubborn as hell, just like me. He gets it from the Baran side of the family ( my paternal side) where stubbornness comes as easy as breathing if not easier. He has a penchant for talking.... nonstop...about nothing. Like me. Ashe is outgoing like me and unlike J. Soren is still developing so I cant say yet what he taken from my side of the genetic pool.

J knows I search for things in the kids to somehow prove these Nordic looking children really did come from me, as way to somehow prove these are my kids. So when the boys do something outrageous he loves to point at them, look at me and mouth "Your side of family." And that brings me to why I blog today.

Early this morning Ashe woke up and wandered into our bedroom looking for a glass of chocolate milk and to ask if he could watch tv. J stumbled out of bed to comply then came back to snuggle into the warm bed covers for a few more minutes before getting up for the day. It's quiet and we're both almost back asleep when the door bangs open and Ashe proudly declares "HEY DADDY! I FARTED! I FARTED DADDY!!!" then runs off giggling, slamming the door behind him.

J turned his face to me, groggily opened his eyes in little slits and said "That comes from you." and rolled back over while I chuckled softly..... Now that I think of it, he better have meant Ashes sense of humor.....

Moving Up In The World

Alright, one more blog for today then I'm done. Yes I know, I tend to blog in spurts. That's just how we roll here folks. Speaking of rolls...

No matter how much I nurse and then feed Soren baby food right before, he insists on "sharing" Js food with him at dinnertime. Tonight he stole J's dinner roll right out from under him. While I don't have a photo of that, I did grab a few snapshots of him stealing J's glass of water. What is missing in these photos, unfortunately, is the instant where Soren literally snagged the glass out of J's hand and tried to drink it on his own. Fortunately J has amazingly fast reflexes (must be something you get when you have 3 kids) and was able to save the glass from dropping, and both he and Soren from being completely soaked.

He noticed I had the camera and stopped for a photo op. Typical Beaulac Boy.

Screw Sippy cups, folks. We're going hard core and straight to crystal glasses at a mere 7 months of age.

It's Come To Pass

I'm officially depressed. Despondent. I knew this day was coming, I could see the signs for awhile. Knowing the end was nigh I can at least say with full honesty I did my utmost to enjoy every precious moment until it was too late. But now, as I realize that time has been taken from me and I will never get it back, I am just really bummed.

Sorens first tooth popped out.


I am a sucker for infant gummy smiles. There is nothing in this world that can make me smile instantly no matter how glum I feel like when I see one of my babies with a toothless grin facing my direction. If you dont have kids of your own, this form of pleasure is probably not one you would understand. You might even think I'm a little touched in the head for despairing over something that would seem so trivial. But if you are a Parent and you've been a witness to those glorious smiles, you might understand. Maybe you even sympathize with me a little.

My problem lies with the fact that I realize Soren is my last lil guy. And so there is a part of me that is holding tightly on to those little things I will never get to witness again as a Mom. Sure, I'll see gummy smiles on my friends babies, and when I become a Grandmother I will get to cherish those smiles of my Grandbabies almost as much as I do on my own babies. And inevitably, when I'm old and senile, and placed in a home to have wheelchair races with J, I'll be surrounded by gummy smiles galore.... but that idea freaks me out more because old people gummy smiles are in quite another category than cute infant gummy smiles, dont you think? I cant really think of anything cute about a 90 year old guy smiling with no teeth.

I took photos galore of Soren. I pleaded every night to the Powers That Be to let him stay toothless for as long as possible. Someone listened because I realize how much I lucked out that the first tooth didnt even show up until he was 7 months old. I appreciate the extra time. I really do. But I'm selfish. Greedy even. I want more time!!!!

But I can't have it. That little white nub has been playing peek a boo for the last 3 weeks and it finally pushed through entirely yesterday. For the first time I put my finger in his mouth to check and felt that little nub. And I almost cried. I didn't. I held firm on the outside. I cheered and congratulated Soren on his new stage in life. But inside I crumbled and wept. My last days of gummy smiles are gone forever.

The only pro to all of this is that I'm keeping the deal I had with Soren. He was allowed to chew my chin to his hearts content until his first tooth came through, then all bets were off. Maybe I can finally reclaim my chin as my own. Still that's not enough to make it worthwhile. So dont mind me if Im not my usual snarky and sarcastic self for awhile. I'll be deep in my Mommy Pity party with a glass of wine, some photos of my baby boys, and some tissues to wipe my tears away.

Interview With a 3 Year Old

There is nothing like conversing with a three year old. It is both amusing and perplexing at the same time. Take this typical conversation I had with Ashe today.

In the afternoon while Soren was napping, I plopped down on the couch beside Ashe while he played with his monster trucks. He sidled over to me and casually zoomed his trucks up and down my legs and arms as we chatted about his day:
"So how was school today, Ashe?"
"Good! I had Circle time!" (it is his favorite part about his Moms morning Out program)
"Oh yeah? And what did you do during circle time?"
"I had snacks!"
"Snacks, huh? What did you have for a snack?"
"Pencils."
"...Pencils...?"
"Yup, pencils."
"You did not eat pencils!!!"
"I did too! They were MMM, MMM good too!"
"But you don't eat pencils! You write with pencils."
"Not pencils, Mommy, PENCILS!"
"Oh!!! You mean Pretzels?"
"Yes. Pencils."
"Ahhh, ok. Pretzels and pencils sound a lot alike don't they? I thought you said Pencils."
"I did Mommy."
"ummm....ok. What else did you do?"
"I played with toys."
"Oh yeah? What toys?"
"Cows."
"Cows?"
"No silly, COWS!"
"..... Cars?"
"Yes."
"Ahhh. You played with cars?"
"No...Jamison did."
"Jamison played with cars?"
"Yes."
"So what did you play with?"
"Some of the girls."
"Which girls?"
"I dunno, Mommy. They were just girls."
"What did you play with the girls?"
 He sighs "COWS, Mommy!!!"
"Oh.... Did you have fun?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Well good then."
"Mommy look at the clouds."
I look out the window "Yes I see them. They're way up in the sky. What else goes up in the sky?"
"Balloons!"
"Yup. What else?"
"Ladybugs!"
"Yes, ladybugs too. Anything else?"
"Trees!"
"Ok, sure. Trees are kind of up in the sky."
"Goobers!!!"
"Goobers?"
"Yes, Goobers. You're a goober, Mommy."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are. And Soren is a goober, and Zavi, and Daddy, and I'm a BIG Goober!"
"Yes, you are a big goober."
"And I'm a Beaulac."
"Yes, you are. So is Mommy, and Daddy, and Xavier, and Soren."
"That's cause we're family."
"Yes."
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Ashe?"
"I'm going to eat your nose now."
"Huh?"

CHOMP!


3 yr olds are weird. But they make life interesting.

You Know You're a Parent When...

Being a parent permeates through everything in your life. We all know this on some level but once in awhile it comes as a shock to your system. You go out for one of those insanely rare kid free excursions, trying to be YOU, not mom, not dad, but you the person and inevitably it will still crop up to bite you in the ass, just make sure that in case you forgot for those mere hours, you can not escape your role of parentdom. And sometimes it happens in a funny (if slightly embarrassing) way.

Last night J and I went to our first concert in years that doesn't involve kid music. BC (before children) we were heavily into the music scene in Boston, going to concerts almost every other weekend it seems. J was in a band so he was out quite often. BC I would go along and help sell merchandise. Even AC, with the help of my mom to babysit we would still go out a few times a year to catch a good act. Since moving down here over 2 years ago however, we haven't had family to watch our kids and the music scene isn't as big here, so that aspect of our lives took a nose dive.

Last night though, a couple of bands we love (and one I'm sure that almost no one knows in my readers circle) was playing in Raleigh. Korpiklaani and Tyr (music vid link), two bands from Europe were touring together and we just had to go see them. (We play Korpiklaani quite often and our kids love to rock out to them.) Having my mom just move down recently this was the perfect opportunity to have some adult time to ourselves and get back to what we loved doing years ago.

So we leave the house in high spirits, grab some food, and head to the concert. The first thing I notice as we're looking for a parking space is the fact that ours is the only minivan in the area. J and I look at each other in sheepish amusement as I make this observation out loud and he said yeah he thought that too. Our only saving grace was the fact we had skull decals on the back of our van. We're still cool enough. Phew.

Then we get in to the concert and are asked for ID. Automatically J takes out a card that is normally in his wallets ID spot, and without looking at it hands it to the bouncer. It's not his ID though. It's his Lego VIP card. You know, the card you get so that with each Lego purchase you earn points to save money on more Lego purchases. Something only a parent or Lego freak would actually carry in his wallet. Yes, that Lego VIP card. The bouncer just stared at it for a moment and burst out laughing. We laughed as well once we realized what happened but it was just another reminder that no matter how hard we try to pretend otherwise, we are parents to the hilt. There is just no escaping the fact.


Aside from that, it was a fantastic concert. I believe it was the first concert I went to where I spotted the following, none of which were props for the band members either. These were solely in the crowd:

• 1 metal gauntlet
• 1 man wearing a bear skin cloak
• 1 3 foot Viking horn
• 1 man head banging while wearing a full chain mail shirt
• a mosh pit where folks started to circle dance like you would expect at some ancient festival
• a mosh pit where guys started swinging arm in arm like you would see centuries ago in a common tavern

Seriously it was an awesome night. I also learned that no matter how much of a parent you are, nothing makes you feel sexier than wearing a black corset. I wore my new corset shirt last night and let me tell you that I'm almost to the point where I'm going to say societies proprieties be damned, I just may take up wearing corsets on a daily basis!

Photo of Thor's Hammer courtesy of www.thorhammer.org

Freedom!!!!!

I am over the moon. Today was the first day since before Thanksgiving (49 days if you're counting) that both older boys were in school and I had NO PLANS!!!! Christmas can't hold a candle to this feeling of excitement! Now granted, I had Soren with me, but he passed out around 10 so I had an entire hour and 40 minutes ALL TO MYSELF! Let me repeat that again. ALL TO MYSELF!!!!!!!!


So what did I do? Nothing. And it was fanfreakingtastic. I chatted with my friend K on the phone uninterrupted. That, is a feat on it's own. I caught up on my email... uninterrupted! I drank a hot cup of coffee. Can you believe that? I totally forgot how awesome hot coffee is and how much of a difference it makes!

And, I took a shower... uninterrupted!!!! And I got to stay in as long as I wanted!! I mean who knew that hot water could actually run out even if the clothes washer/dishwasher weren't on at the same time???? I didn't know! Did you? And I got to shave both legs at the same time!!!

Beautiful, just beautiful. I was grinning the whole time. Of course, now that I had a taste of freedom, I'm craving it again. Hopefully I can keep my schedule open on Thursday and Soren will cooperate again and pass out for his morning nap.

Oh joy!

Mom ≠ Maid

After taking Xavier to school this morning, I allowed Ashe to play some Wii without having to fight his brother while I started in on my morning chores. He grabbed Sorens Bumbo and sat down while I wandered off to wipe counters and clean the bathroom.

As I start to sweep I hear Ashe calling for me. Knowing J is on the phone in a meeting I walk over to him in order to keep the shouting to a minimum. This was our following conversation:

"What's up honey?"
"I WANT CHOMO MILK MOMMY."
"You're chocolate milk is on the couch behind you."
"YOU GET IT FOR ME MOMMY."
"Uh, no. You can get it yourself."
"NO MOMMY, YOU MY MAID. YOU GET IT."
"....... (through gritted teeth) I am not your maid. I am your Mom!"
"YOU NOT MY MAID?"
"No, I am not."
"OH!..... THAT'S RIGHT! YOU DADDY'S MAID!" He grins mischievously as I stand there open mouthed.
I retort back "I'm not anyones maid!!!" and stalk away to nurse my ego.

I think it's time to renegotiate my pay. /harrumph!

Tooth Fairy Tantrums

The tooth fairy teaches children that they can sell body parts for money. 

 ~David Richerby

There are 3 reasons why I blog:

1. To share or vent things that go on in my life, usually as a mom, but not necessarily confined to that one aspect of who I am

2. To write down memories of those little things that no matter how much I wish to think I will always remember them, I know I wont 3 years down the road, so that I can look back reading these and say "Oh yeah!!! I remember that!!!!"

3. So that many years down the road from now, when my sons are adults and married, and they come to me and tell me they and their wife are expecting their first child, I can gleefully go to Office Max, have all of these blogs printed out, and create a book to give to them at the Baby shower, cackling with glee the entire time. I figure this will be considered good parenting (and great revenge) as I will be letting them know for real what they have gotten themselves into. Muahahaha!

Todays blog is for the latter reason. 

Xavier lost another tooth yesterday. It had been loose for awhile, and it finally fell out while at school. He came home grinning madly, showing off the big gaping hole where his tooth used to be, and chattered excitedly about how the tooth fairy was going to come tonight and hand over money for this tiny little baby tooth.

He went to bed, chatting himself to sleep about what he would spend his mighty dollar bill he was going to get from the tooth fairy that night.  J casually reminded me after Xavier fell asleep and I nodded that I would remember.

I totally forgot.

Now in my defense, I am flipping exhausted, both physically and mentally! I am dealing with a 6 month old who has decided to start budding his own teeth (not tooth, teeth, I can see 2 tiny baby bottom teeth almost erupting simultaneously) and is waking up every 60-90 minutes at night and just plain pissed off during the day. I am dealing with a 3 yr old who I am locked in a power struggle over edibles, I had been dealing with a lot of pathetic drama outside of the house that I didn't want to get dragged into yet some people can not take no for an answer and I had to cut some ties ( I really hate mind games for the record and frankly I don't have time for that crap). So yes I was a bad Mom, but I was a Tired Mom. I screwed up. I'm not perfect. But there were reasons behind my lack of memory.

I realized I screwed up at 6 am after nursing Soren for the third time that night when Xavier came out of his room weeping. I asked him what was wrong and he told me his tooth was still there and there was no money. I froze thinking "oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!!! How the hell can I fix this?!?!?"  Then oddly enough I had an idea. Aha! School already called in a 2 hour delay due to inclement weather. You know, cause it was 45 degrees outside and raining. A little bit. Kind of. Well not really by then. But Still!!! So I gathered Xavier in my arms and told him that it was still dark out and there was still time. And that maybe because of the bad weather (by the way honey you have 2 hours off of school! Isn't that great?) that the tooth fairy got blown off course. And maybe, if she didn't make it tonight, she will definitely be here the next night. Because obviously there has to be a good reason!!

I got him calmed down and I thought he seemed ok. I sent him to bed and told him to try and sleep because the tooth fairy would NOT come if he was awake. And then after listening to make sure he did what I asked, I booked it down the stairs and frantically searched for money, a pen, and paper.

I sat down and wrote (in flowing cursive so he couldn't recognize my handwriting) a letter from the tooth fairy explaining she got stuck in snow and by the time she got to our house he was up so she left the money downstairs and would come by the next night to grab the tooth. I then folded the letter into a cool little package that held the money and placed it by on the kitchen counter by the coffee machine. Congratulating myself for a job well done I lumbered back to bed in pure exhaustion, looking forward to just a few hours of uninterrupted sleep as it was now technically Js watch.

At 7 am J bursts into our bedroom with a look of pure panicked frustration on his face and asks me to please help him deal with Xavier because he can not right now or he will do something he may regret. This, coming from my sweet natured, MOST patient, never ruffled, loving husband. If he is like this I know it's going to be a really bad morning. So I throw on my bathrobe and head out to see what is going on.

Apparently, Xavier did not calm down. Instead he started obsessing over the fact the tooth fairy had yet to make an appearance (as far as he knew) and worked himself into a tizzy. Fine. However, he worked himself up so much and got so angry he lashed out. The bad part is he decided to lash out at his innocent younger brother, Ashe, who had been sleeping peacefully in the bottom bunk of their bunk beds...

By pouring a bottle of cold water on him while he slept.

To steal a quote from my friend Kia:

 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot!

Seriously???? As I enter the chaos, J had calmed Ashe down for the most part and dried him up but he was still sniffing and trying not to cry. J went over to him to try and make him feel better. Xavier was already in time out and he sat there snarling and growling. I walked over to him and asked him what his deal was, and was it true this was all about the tooth fairy. He growled at me that she never came.

"Oh really?"

"I stayed awake the whole time and she never showed up!"

"Duh kid! I told you point blank she wont show up if you're awake. That was the whole point for you to go back to bed! And before you start your shenanigans again did you notice this note over here on the counter?"

"No!"

"I thought not." I walked over, opened it up, showed him the money, and read him the note.  Then, I pocketed the money, told him he lost it for his behavior, and that he would now have to earn it back.

To any neighbors who heard the howl of rage that issued forth from that consequence, my apologies that it happened so early in the morning. I cut him off his howling and told him further more, the way he acted to Ashe, who was completely innocent in all this, was beyond unacceptable, and that he would also spend the entire day thinking of some way to really make it up to his little brother. And if he didn't figure out something appropriate I would.

He flipped out, and I wasn't in the mood to put up with it, so I sent him to his room to calm down. Which took about 45 minutes and a lot of screaming of "I'M CALMED DOWN MOM! MOM!!!!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!! I AM CALM!!! ARRRRRGH!" until he quieted down, actually calmed down, and did some major apologizing to the whole family.

As far as I'm concerned I'm of the mind to kill off the damn tooth fairy if this is what is going to happen if she's "late". And I can promise you she will be late again, at some point, for some kid. We parents who take on the role of a mythological creature are not the Perfect Legend. We're human. 

Stupid Tooth Fairy >:P

Dinner War: Battles 1&2

One of the more difficult aspects of having multiple children is that invetibly you will fight the same battles with each kid. So you finally win one war with the eldest and things calm down, ony to have the next child pick up the slack. Take dinner at my house for instance:

It took J and I 4 years (!!!!) to wear down Xavier until he will finally both sit at the table and eat. That was a war hard won. We tried everything by the book, and when that didnt work, came up with our own outrageous ideas. In reality it took consistence and time. LOTS of time. Years worth actually. Even now at age 7 Xavier still tries to pull his stunt of not eating. The only thing that works for him now is leaving him by himself once we have finished our food with the understanding that when he is done he can join us, and the longer it takes the less free time before dinner he has. Only in the past few months has he finally admitted defeat and makes it a race to see who finishes dinner first. I still beat him, despite being able to carry on a conversation and feed the baby at the same time. But he generally comes in second place and still enjoys the challenge of trying to beat Mom.

J and I were finally breathing a sigh of relief when it started up again, only this time with Ashe. It took us a long time, and help from his developmental therapist to get him to even sit at the dinner table. But now he just sits there and refuses to eat. Doesnt matter what I make. I even have him choose dinners once in awhile and help me make them in the hopes that his excitement of being in charge will make him want to touch his food. Alas, nomatter how much he seems excited for it while it is cooking, the moment it touches a plate he pulls his Yucky face, shakes his head and says "I WON'T EAT IT MOMMY!"

We've now reached critical mass. He wont eat dinner, but he has no issue waking up twice a night for chocolate milk (Ovaltine for the vitamins). And frankly, J and I are barely getting sleep as it is with myself getting up many times a night for Soren and the kids bouncing out of bed bright and early for J to deal with at 5am.

I finally took a stand last night. The gloves are off. I'm in battle mode. And I'll be damned if I let a 3 yr old kick my ass. This child WILL eat....something other than chocolate milk!

Battle 1: January 5, 2010

(5:15 - 6:00pm ET)

"Dinner time boys!"

The stampeding of feet can be heard miles away as 2 boys and 1 man rush to the table. Dinner tonight is Hamburger Helper and salad. Everyone sits down and we begin to eat and discuss our day. Ashe sits there and watches, fork untouched. After awhile I turn to him and tell him to eat.

"I DON'T WANNA EAT."

"You need to eat some food, Ashe. Try a bite please."

"NO I WON'T I TOO BUSY"

"Doing what?"

"I TOO SMALL TO EAT."

"Well the only way to get bigger and strong is to eat your dinner."

"NO, I WON'T."

"If you do not eat you will go into time out."

"NO EAT!"

"1...."

(glares from the peanut)

"2....."

(Face contorts into a scowl and he tries to stare me down)

"3. Ok dude, time out for you."

"NOOOOOO!!!!"

"Yup, let's go. You can eat after timeout." I carry him to time out thrashing, place him down and walk back to the table. After 3 minutes I ask him if he is ready to eat.

"NO I DON'T WANT TO EAT DINNER!"

"Do you need to stay in timeout?"

"YES!"

"...... um, ok, I'll check back in a bit then."
3 more minutes go by, and when I ask him again if hes ready to come out of time out he just smiles at me and shakes his head no.
"WON'T EAT, MOMMY!"
The hell you won't, I'm thinking to myself. So I made him go back to the table. And I told him under no circumstances, could he leave the table until he ate.

45 minutes later, table cleared, Ashe is sobbing, food untouched, and he still refuses to even consider having one damn bite. I finally ask him if he would eat a "Chocolate" sandwich (Nutella). He considers for a moment, head tilted, and finally nods in agreement. I make him a sandwich and he eats it at the table, asking after every bite "ARE YOU HAPPY MOMMY?"
"Only if you finish the sandwich."

He finished the sandwich.

Battle 2: January 6

(5:30: - 6:37pm ET)

"Dinner time!" The stampeding of feet can be heard miles away as 2 boys and 1 man rush to the table. Dinner tonight is Riggatoni and sauce with salad.

You know what? I should just copy and paste above, minus one small detail. This time when I told Ashe to eat a noodle he just smiled at me and said "NO MOMMY I WON'T EAT. I GO TO TIMEOUT OK?"

.....

I gave him one time out and he just sat there smiling, nodding his head, and I realized that this is what he wanted. So I got smart. Instead of time outs I just made him sit at the table. And he sat there until it was almost bedtime. Crying. Begging for a timeout instead. Begging!!!! I can not harp on this enough. I had a 3 yr old in my house, desperately wanting a timeout instead of eating!

Seriously????

Towards bedtime J and I realized that he would either have to eat, or neither of us would get ANY sleep tonight. I for one, cherish what little sleep I can snag and I know looking at J's slow stumble lately that is his walk, is desperate too. So I made him another Nutella sandwich and he happily ate it.

This war will be long, hardcore, and bloody. Tears will be shed. Feelings possibly hurt. I think I lost tonights battle, but I will not lose the war. I hold on to that thought like a child holds on to their blankey. But what scares me, is that once I have finally won with Ashe and he does eat, I'll have to do this all over again, with Soren.

Mama's Boy

J and I have officially declared Soren to be a Mama's Boy. It's gotten to the point where he has seriously bypassed his two siblings and is now the reigning champion! The other two just did not compare to this little tyke. It's both endearing and kind of difficult to deal with. I mean, I am eating up the fact that someone out there loves me so much he just can not think of anyone (or thing ) else during his waking moments! I am flattered beyond all measure that this little guy will stop his basic necessity of survival (i.e. eating) in order to gaze lovingly into my eyes and coo sweet sonnets of love to yours truly.

However it' becoming a feat of ingenuity to just make it to the bathroom on my own without Soren wailing from heart break that I left him for such an extreme amount of time. You know, like 15 seconds. And if I try to hand him over to J just to chug my morning coffee, he sits there in Js arms with liquid puppy eyes focused on me no matter where I am, whimpering with arms held out to me. If I dont answer "THE SUMMONS" in his idea of an appropriate amount of time (30 seconds) he starts to wail. I may have to start recognizing the fact that I may only get cold coffee from now on. I dont even remember what a hot cup really tastes like.

J has even informed me that when Im trying to catch a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep in the morning after J takes over for a little while, every time he and Soren pass by our bedroom door, Soren looks at the door longingly and whimpers. He starts to jump up and down in excitement if J opens our door, and by the time I roll over in sleep induced haze, Sorens arms are open wide, he's trying to launch himself out of Js arms with a giant grin on his face, mouth open and going "GAAAAAAAAAH"! (which translates to MOMMY I MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH! I WAS DYING OF LONELINESS!!!)

My face is incredibly dry from him giving me nonstop kisses. I love love LOVE kisses! But these kisses take up my entire face and continue when he's in the mood for a good 10 minutes. It's cute. It really is. You cant get any cuter than a 6 month old grinning at you from ear to ear and then launching himself at you, mouth open, to engulf your face and kiss/slobber your nose/eyebrows/cheek/chin/ear, straighten back up to grin at you again, then relaunch himself in for another attack. And if I kiss him back he takes that as command to go full out on slobber kisses. This would be great if it wasnt in the middle of winter with dry cold air. As it is his face, despite a lot of lotion, is chapped like crazy, and mine is starting to get there.

He wont do it for anyone else though. While he loves his daddy, J has a goatee which defends him from kiss attacks. And the boys are fast, skipping back in a micro second the moment they see the gaping baby mouth incoming, giggling as they dance away from potential attacks. So I suffer in amused silence alone, as my chin becomes the toy to gum, my cheeks get raspberried until there is so much slobber he cant get a good raspberry going anymore, or he tires out.

This age goes by so fast. I look at Ashe, my only other Mama's Boy, who has become a turncoat and is now Daddys boy all the way. So I know that one day soon the tides will turn and this will only be a memory. So while I gripe, it's only half hearted. I really do enjoy this age and it makes my heart soar when I can calm Soren with a cuddle and a kiss and know that all he really needs right now, is Mommys love. I'll take the dry skin, and the cold coffee. I know in the long run I will get them back. But I cant get these days back, once they're gone.

Never Ending Nights

The kids have colds. And with colds come nights that just never seem to end. With Ashes asthma even the smallest of colds poses the potential for an attack so J and I are always on alert. Since we got ourselves a nebulizer we've stopped having to go to ER and can handle them ourselves from home, but even then it's frustrating.

When Soren gets a bad cold he usually ends up in our room either sleeping in his car seat so he can sleep upright and breathe, or propped up beside us. Of course for one night like this we deal with 4 more where he refuses to sleep back in his crib until he realizes the war is lost. On his end, I assure you.

But when you combine the two together, you have a night of no sleep.

7pm: Soren finally passes out in my arms and I put him to bed.

7:30pm: Ashe has his "air medicine" (albuterol) for his asthma and promptly passes out

9:30pm Xavier fights his bedtime (already 90 minutes later as it is) and finally passes out an hour later after several attempts of snacks, drinks, and "Can I just read one more book???"

11:08-11:30pm: Soren wakes up for his first night feeding

11:31pm: J and I finally settle down to sleep

12am: Ashe wakes up gasping for air and crying for chocolate milk. I rush up ready to give him albuterol and read Harry Potter until the medicine is done.

12:01am: Ashe has a tantrum on the floor outside of Sorens room because he does not want air medicine

12:02am: Soren wakes up screaming. Xavier sleeps blissfully through

12:02am J rushes up to take over Ashe while I go in to calm Soren down by nursing him...again

12:17am: Soren finally passes out. I tiptoe out to hear J reading Harry Potter to Ashe with the loud nebulizer going strong, lights blaring.

12:17am: Xavier blissfully sleeps through everything.

12:25am: J returns to bed and we cuddle up together and try to go to sleep

1:30am: Ashe starts yelling from the top of the stairs "DADDY! HEY DADDY! UMM MOMMY!" I WANT CHOMO MILK!!!"

1:31am: I'm in the kitchen mixing one more cup of chocolate milk for Ashe and letting him know this is it until breakfast time!

1:34 am: everyone is back in bed. Xavier blissfully sleeps through everything

1:35-2:45am: I hear Ashe singing the Star Wars song, Dora the Explorer, and yelling out "MARIO KART WHEEEE!" Xavier blissfully sleeps through it all.

3am: Ashe finally passes out

3:30am: Soren wakes up crying

3:31am: I'm up in Sorens room, checking his diaper and bring us to the rocker to nurse

3:50am: Soren is back in bed and I hobble into our own room to pass out as quickly as I can. Which, despite my pure exhaustion, still takes a long time. I keep listening for when the next issue will happen and can not fall into a deep sleep for awhile, jumping at every noise. I finally pass back out around 4:30am

5:50am: Soren wakes up to nurse. Usually by this time he will be up and at em for the day and I pass the torch to J but he decided to be nice to Daddy and go back to sleep for a couple of hours.

6:05am I go to bed, passing the torch to J and finally pass out blissfully for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

7am: Ashe wakes up for the day but I don't care. I'm finally comatose.