Love Thy Neighbor

I am appalled  and incredulous at the amount of people that are spewing hate and discrimination and exclusion right now.  Not just people that typically share outrageous opinions without bothering to know their facts - but many people that I consider intelligent, kind Christians. 

The many acts of violence in our world do scare me.  They do make me want to take my children and relocate to a tiny self sufficient cabin in northern Canada and hide forever.  As a mother, OF COURSE I want my children protected.

But not at the expense of them growing up and thinking it is acceptable to turn their back on another human that is suffering.  That cannot be the example I set for my child. 

I am a stay at home mom in a small city far away from the action.  I am limited in what I can do to help an entire population that needs way more than I can give.  But I can pray.  And I can use my voice to combat some of the hate I see scrolling across my Facebook feed.  And I can have meaningful conversations in my home with my children about compassion and acceptance and empathy.  I can teach my children to be people that may one day be standing on the shores of Greece handing out water bottles and blankets.  And if that happens, I will be scared again...but also so incredibly proud.

Because...

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR. 

Not just your white American neighbors.  Not just your Christian neighbors.  Not just your appropriately vetted neighbors.  Love all your neighbors.  The ones that need a shower, the ones that need food, the ones that are so afraid that they abandon their homes and flee to countries that don't want them. 

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR.

I cannot imagine fleeing my home with my children to who knows where, only with what I can carry - at the mercy of whoever I meet along the way.  I get frustrated when my van needs repairs and I am without wheels for two hours.  We are spoiled.  And it is causing outrageous, privileged vitriol from so many people - people I consider friends and even family.  I just hope that this makes those people stop for a moment and consider whether what they are saying aligns with what they believe.  And I hope they take a few more moments and research what is really happening with these refugees on the shores of Greece and other countries. 

Less hate, less discrimination, less exclusion, less fear.

More compassion, more empathy,  more prayers, more concern...more LOVE.

Love for ALL our neighbors.

Bedtime Interview

Most of the time, I am very proud of my adorable 3 year old with the ginormous vocabulary.  He has talked early and often and it allows me so much insight into the toddler mind - I find it fascinating.

Most of the time.

One other fact - my adorable 3 year old with all the words also loathes bedtime.  Hates it with the fire of a thousand hot suns.  To cope with the indignity of being forced into monkey feetie pajamas and tossed into a bed with no tv shows on, my adorable son...talks.

And talks.  And talks.

And it is hilarious.  I love following the crazy train that is his thought pattern after bedtime, love listening to his brain click on all the next steps and solutions, love cuddly Mama-Baby Boy time. 

But for the love of all that is holy...why can't we do this at 10 am???

I think this is typically the 'why?' stage.  However, because he loves to talk so much, it is less 'why' and more like 'the interview that never ends'.  Here is an example...

While cuddling and shushing  (on my part) and wriggling (on his part), he felt a bone in my hand. 

Baby Boy - "What's this?"
Mama - "A bone in my hand."

BB - " Nope, that not a bone.  It's a booboo."
Mama - "You have bones in your hand..."

BB - "Booboo!!"  It's a booboo!  Just a little one though."
Mama - "Fine.  Booboo."

BB - "How you get it?"
Mama - " I hit it."

BB -"Where you hit it?"
Mama - "Door."

Followed by...

What door?
What front door?
Our house front door?
Why you hit it?
It feel better?
And after finding my wrist bone...

How you get this BIG booboo???  Repeat...

We also discussed...

How arms can be firetruck ladders if they are very straight, but if you curve your fingers then arms can be diggers.

How big fluffy pillows are for Mamas and Girls and plain flat pillows are for Daddys and Boys.

Which plants on the dresser are Mommy's and which ones belong to Daddy.

The odds of an overnight storm, since apparently he has had some stealthy meteorology training when I wasn't looking and saw on the news that rain was coming.

How it would be alright to just watch "a little little bit" of Daniel Tiger to make us sleepy.

Somehow, we managed to fall asleep without Daniel Tiger's assistance - after about a dozen more random conversations, including 'where do garbage trucks sleep?' and 'When the sun come back up?"

Mama has only ONE question...

Will I ever sleep again?

Ok, one more question...

How is it possible that three years and a handful of days ago, this child was not even here and now my days march to the beat of his quirky, loquacious little drummer?

Motherhood.  Totally crazy, many times strange, overwhelmingly hilarious.

Other Grandpa

I had an absolutely heartwrenching moment this morning. 

My two and a half year old son was checking out my pictures on the mantle and stopped at a picture of my Busia and Grandpa.

"Who is this Mama?"

I explained it was Mama's Busia and Grandpa, which he understood since he knows Great Busia very well.  Great Busia is Friday afternoon visits and M&M's and pop in wine glasses and window cleaning and chocolate cookies and pretty much anything else he can think of because Great Busia spoils the crap out of him - like a Great Busia should.

He stood quiet for a moment and then said, " That other different Grandpa?"

Yes...

"Where he live?"

My grandpa lives with angels, my love.  He helped God decide how to best form you and then sent you on to us to make his beautiful bride laugh every Friday afternoon when he couldn't be here.

I really said, "Other Grandpa lives with Jesus."

More quiet.  Then, very confidently..." We see him some day."

Then he hopped down and ran off to shoot his sister with a nerd gun.  Which Other Grandpa probably found very amusing.

Grandpa, it breaks my heart that you didn't get to meet my amazing children here on earth.  You and Mason would get into so much trouble together - and Ava would have you tied around her finger in about five seconds.  But it comforts to me to think of you in heaven, laughing at all the antics of this next generation.  I know my kids have the best guardian angel there is.  Love you and miss you.

Before and Afters - 4th of July

Getting healthy.  Month seven.  Five more months to go.

I started this mission last year, December 1st.  It is a funny day to start a new resolution, the middle of winter and right before Christmas.  Smack dab in the middle of the holiday season.

My body made me.

I had a gut wrenching gallbladder attack that lasted all night and made me want to reach into my body and yank my gallbladder out with my bare hands.  In between bouts of nausea, I contemplated the logistics of it.  By morning, I had vowed about 250 times to do whatever I needed to be sure that never happened again.

I could have surgery, remove it.  Many people do.  But my diet was so high in fats that I would still have related problems anyway.  I needed to face that I could be a mom who slowly fell apart and felt crabby all the time...

...or I could get my shit together.

Seven months in, I keep seeing all these 'this day last year, pictures on my Facebook feed.  I want to post them all in wonderment.  I won't, because I am not that crazy.  But I am surprisingly proud of these before and afters.  I was determined to do better, but I still doubted myself.  I didn't really believe some days I would get here.  And now I am more than halfway through my year long mission and I am buying new sizes and ditching all my old clothes.

I can't wait to see December first...2015.

July 4, 2014, and....

July 4, 2015

Garden Pictures

The Great Container Garden Experiment of 2015 is off to a roaring start!  I still have zinnia and pickle seeds to sow plus I need to transplant some extra herbs I started inside, but the majority of everything is planted.  It still remains to be seen how these all produce given their limited soil ranges, but I am enjoying seeing what works and what doesn't.  With about $100 invested, everything looks pretty and is growing....so far successful! 

Inside just the containers in these pictures I have at least of 2 of all the following: romas, super sweet tomatoes, banana peppers, 2 types of bell, 5 types of hot peppers, early cantaloupe, sugar baby watermelon, and butternut squash, zucchini, cucumbers, snap and snow peas, Bush beans, onions,  lettuce, spinach, cabbage, and about a dozen different types of herbs.  Plus flowers.  I know realistically these are not all going to work out, but I strategically placed the same type of plant in different places and pots to see what is successful and what is just a waste of time.

Time will tell!

Bring on the Cement Truck!

Our driveway side, which til now has been a driven-over scraggly piece of lawn is now clean pretty cement.  My babies got a giant kick out of watching Daddy work with the cement truck - it was like one of Baby Boy's construction books came to life.  And Mama got a giant kick out of how much nicer the side of the house looks - and out of how nice Daddy looked in big boots pushing cement.  Here is our before and after!

Garden - Side Yard

A few pictures of the driveway side yard, which is actually not going to be a 'yard' much longer.  Jack is going to pour concrete over all the lawn between the house and the driveway so that grass/dirt/crap-we-always-just-drive-over will look much nicer.  We will just have the planters and herb garden here.

This year we are still doing pickles in the long planters on a trellis.  I added pansies because I am desperate to plant some color.  The herb garden will still be half herbs, but I am going to try some smaller pepper varieties too, on the theory that they love heat and the block garden gets very warm.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained!

One Year Later

I am on a plateau.  I have been stuck on this plateau for two months now.  I have backslid and indulged and comfort ate like a champ.  I have not lost my progress but I am not making any progress either.

I have been so discouraged since I fell and fractured my elbow.  I broke it the day before the 5k race that was supposed to be a celebration of sorts for how far I came - and then I couldn't run it.  Broke my spirit a little bit.  Then I started a cycle of crappy comfort eating and not moving because it hurt...and it has stalled me.

On Friday I got the ok from Dr. Ortho to start up exercise as long as I was careful and didn't use my arm directly.  I still ate crappy.  Life is so incredibly busy, I still don't know how I will find a way to go to the gym.  I was still discouraged.  I could not see the progress I made because I was so stuck in this rut, on this crappy plateau.

And then...then I saw this picture from a year ago on Facebook.  And saw what a difference a year can make.  A year that is made up of successes, but also many failures - all strung together to move slowly in a healthier way.

I still don't know how I will find gym time, and I just ate some cookie batter...but I poured my Coke down the drain and picked up my water bottle.  I own this journey...backslides, successes, and everything in between. 

Green Things...Go!

Yesterday (to celebrate Baby Girl's birthday?) we added some green things to the garden and built up the tree house a bit more.  I continue to stand by my vision for this container garden, it looks better and better every time I putter with it. 

Yesterday I planted violas and then seeded lettuce, spinach, and peas.  I am a little later than I wanted to be getting them in but all shall be ok.  We should see green sprouts within a week.  I also added violas to hanging baskets and the block garden, too.

Jack has done a magnificent job transforming a wasted corner of our yard that was formerly run over with mulberry tree and created a fun treehouse.  Windows and railings and a paint job are in the near future.

It feels so amazing to be outside again.

Mulch Day

Just a few more pictures from today, updating the new container garden!  After the first week of this new project, Jack thought it looked like "someone dumped garbage over our fence"....this morning after painting all the random pots, it was "horrendous"....now after filling in all the dirt and adding mulch it "will look ok once the green is growing".  Haha!  I stand by my vision, I really like how it is coming together - hopefully it all grows nicely the way I think it should!

Notes for myself:

If I need to repaint pots next year, I need five cans of paint.

I used six bags of mulch to totally fill in garden area.

Exercises in Flexibility

Before I became a mother, I knew exactly what kind of mother I would be.  My kids would always hit their proper milestones because I would be firm but fair.  I was sure I was fully equipped to handle this.

Now I know differently.  Motherhood is a giant exercise in learning how to bend, how to go with the flow, how to adapt to circumstance, how to take a win where you can get it.  Big lesson for a control freak like me.

My two year old son's bottle obsession is a perfect example.

I know he should have been off a bottle by one.  He was 90% off a bottle by one...We were down to just a bedtime bottle.  And that bottle was mostly water with enough milk to fool him.  Then Baby Girl came along with a whole collection of bottles.  And Baby Boy backslid right back into wanting a bottle every minute of the day.

Every day since is a battle to get him to drink from a cup.  He hates snippy cups, he loathes big kid cups, he will lower himself to drink from a cup with a straw if there is pop in it.  I have begun to believe Baby Girl will break the habit before he will. 

So today here is where we are at - powerade.  He will drink 'orange pop' from a giant powerade container.  Aside from the obvious spill hazard, I am uncertain of the nutritional line we are walking here.  But it is better than seeing him suck on a milk bottle soooooo....

I am bending.

Commence Container Garden Experiment

So last year at the end of the growing season, I wrote some notes to myself.  These can be summed up by the following:  Holy Banana Peppers, My Ground and/or Dogs Suck, Grow Everything in Pots Next Year.

Soooooo....pots.  Actually, containers of many variations.  Any kind of container I could find that could withstand the elements and contain dirt.  In my vision, they are beautifully jumbled and homey looking.  In reality?  Not so much.

Additionally, in the off season - or "frozen tundra of hell" season - I researched container gardening like the good little bookworm I am and found self watering do-it-yourself containers made from Rubbermaid tubs.  Less watering?  Count me in.  However....also not aesthetically pleasing.

So I have a collection of hodgepodge containers and ugly tubs - or as my husband calls it..."It looks likes someone threw their trash over our fence.". Being a wonderful husband and very smart man, he only gave this opinion after I talked about how I needed to do something to make it more attractive.  Then he told me he wasn't worried, because although he does not always see the rhyme or reason in my vision, he knows it always comes together beautifully in the end.

There could be a life metaphor in there, but this a blog about my garden....sooooo....

These are the before pictures, the ones I took today as we started raking out the backyard and pulling out the patio cushions and moving pots.  I know it looks a little crazy, but have a little faith.

It will come together beautifully in the end.

Bad Elbow, Good Aunt

Apologies to all my childrens' aunts, but Aunt Lucy wins best aunt of the year award today.

Our story begins at three this afternoon as we arrive at the roller rink for my nephew's birthday party.  It is Baby Boy's first time on skates and he is alternately thrilled and terrified.  Mama has skates on, too...and we make our way around the carpet a bit before braving the actual rink.

Our turn on the rink is too much excitement, and Baby Boy wants off at the first exit so we get off and stand next to a nearby bench talking to my brother.  I am holding a clingy, uncertain Baby Boy when I hear a woman yell behind me.  Before I can even turn my head she has plowed into me, taking my legs out from under me in a matter of seconds.

Because I have Baby Boy on the left, I turn my body to the right and land on my arm.  Baby Boy landed in my lap, his uncle having jumped out and helped guide him down.  He is totally fine, although he thinks skating is now the work of the devil.  Me?  Not so fine.  Fractured my elbow.  My right elbow.  My dominant elbow.  Ugh.

All of this went down at my nephew's birthday, so Jack and our kids stayed and Aunt Lucy volunteered to take me to the ER.  She was awesome.  She talked me through the med express and then the ER.  She made me laugh after two sets of excruciating xrays made me cry.  She let me have her cupcake.  She made sure I put something in my stomach when I started taking pain pills.  All of this....makes her a fabulous sister.

But THEN...

Before the party, I had gone to Joanns and gotten tulle and ribbon.  My 13 and 9 year olds are running their first 5k today with me (well, that was the plan)  and really wanted tutus.  I had started them and planned on making a little one for Baby Girl for the parade, too.  When we left for the birthday party I had almost two hours of work left on this project, all of it needing two working hands.

After five hours in the ER with me, Aunt Lucy stayed at my house after we all went to bed and finished all the tutus, including a cute little one for Baby Girl.  And she cleaned up all the mess.  And she is coming over pre-race to help them all get ready.  Best.Aunt.Ever.

For the Love of Church

Today is Sunday.  I love Sundays.

Growing up, Sundays were days we didn't have to do chores or be productive.  Sundays were days we all sat together in pretty much the same pew, week after week, learning about the power of prayer. Sundays were days we went out to eat for lunch and had fun afternoon adventures and visited grandparents who usually gave us treats and told great stories.  Sundays were relaxing and they were peaceful and they were...family.

As a young adult, sliding my butt into that familiar pew kept me grounded and brought me that same sense of peace that I remembered from childhood.  It was safety and comfort and rejuvenation as I navigated adulthood and landed where I am today.

And today...as a mom...I try to provide that same feeling for my family.  I want to give my kids that peace, that place to set down the rest of the world and just be family.  Our blended family is a little different in that our big kids are new to this church and this tradition I am trying to build, so I get a little extra joy when I see them participate or ask questions.  It makes me feel like I am being successful in creating this space for them.

So you can imagine how happy I was to see Big Boy paying close attention to church this past Sunday.  Every time I glanced over at him, he was looking around and checking out everything around him.  He watched the altar and eyeballed the stained glass windows and the cross and the baptismal font.  I smiled inside and expected to get some questions after Mass as we mini-vanned our way to lunch.

Here is what I got....

Big Boy raced home after lunch and immediately ran to the computer where he began to start muttering about walls and a roof.  About a half hour later he came to get me to check it out.  As of now, Corpus Christi Parish is officially...Minecrafted.

Yup.

Big Boy spent all that time checking out the dimensions and shape of the church so he could go home and recreate our church in his video game world.  It is located up the hill from his fishing shack, directly next to his giant treehouse.  And it has a giant cross on the outside.  And perfectly proportional windows, walls, and doors.  The inside even has pews and chairs - just like our church- and an altar with a font and candles.  There is even a cry room for all the noisy minecraft babies.  Big Boy is very good at constructing this stuff.  No detail missed.

I am proud of him.  And he may not have had any God related questions this week per se, but construction brought up a very educational conversation about the sacristy and baptismal font.  So my kids will learn about God and faith and peace -  through church and tradition and family...and Minecraft.

Reasoning With A Toddler

Baby Boy is a serious climber.  Not a casual, social climber that only does it occasionally for fun and giggles - a hardcore, dedicated, practice every day and push the boundaries...climber.

Every day I keep one eye peeled for an airborne toddler.

Today I found him moving Baby Girl's toy basket, flipping it upside down, and using it to try and scale the fireplace.  After many 'no's and 'get down's, I finally explained to him that basket was not very strong and I didn't want him to fall and get hurt.  He said 'OH!'  and immediately got down and started moving the basket away.

I walked away, proud that reasoning with him was successful. 

Five minutes later, I walked back to find this...

Apparently this basket is stronger, so everything is ok.

Death By Blankie?

As a new mom, I was terrified Baby Boy was going to die.  I googled and read books and watched his every breath.  I meticulously kept track of the odds of SIDS at every month, relaxing just a fraction when he when exited the high risk window.  I am sure it was all new mom hormones - which no one told me were coming.  Caught me by surprise to find myself not only riding, but driving the crazy train.  I blame (as always) our hunter gatherer ancestors.  God had to give us these crazy protective hormone surges to keep those hunter gatherer moms from leaving their babies out for the saber tooth tigers. 

God, there are no more saber tooth tigers.

There are, however....blankets.

Scary, huh?

With Baby Boy, that was my craziest fear. (Well, that and falling off a bridge in my van full of kids, but that is a whole other story). I was hyper vigilant about blankets being twenty feet from my baby.  The hospital put this one in my head because before they let you go home with your new baby, you are forced to watch a video about the dangers of suffacating.  An entire twenty minutes of actors pretending to roll over on their babies or pull blankets over their faces.  IT.WAS.HORRIFYING.  He was a year old before I would let him sleep with even the smallest blanket. 

Fast forward to Baby Girl who is currently 9 months old...Mama is still a 'lil crazy (See bridge fear above) but I think it is mostly in check.  Which is good, because Baby Girl's favorite way to sleep is this...

Discipline Fail

Baby Boy just turned two on November and has started to blatantly not listen at times.  He gets spanked when he doesn't listen sometimes but he doesn't seem to really understand and instead just swats back at us.  I really don't want to be in a slap war with a toddler.  So this past week, we have started implementing the Time Out Chair.  My reasoning was that if he is old enough to choose to not listen, then he is old enough to understand the concept behind the Time Out Chair.

He. Loves. It.

Time Out Chair is the best new game ever.

It usually begins by him stealing something from his sister or whacking her in the head.  I will ask if he wants to be in time out.  His response is to say "Noooooo" while giggling.  Then he does whatever he is doing AGAIN and looks up at me expectantly.

When I say it's time to go to the Time Out Chair - he laughs, jumps up, and starts running around screaming "Mama, get me! Mama get me!"

When I catch him -the whole time trying desperately to keep a straight face- he wiggles and laughs uncontrollably while I set him in the chair.  He will scoot a little further off it and wait for me to notice and then yell "Play!" at the top of his lungs.  When I tell him no, he just laughs more.

To end Time Out, I always tell him he has to go hug sister and say sorry.  Every single time, the first time down he always pretends he is going to do it and then veers off at the last minute - dashing off to hide in a corner while yelling for me to come get him.  I have to haul him back - insert more giggling - and then he does finally apologize.

So I guess it is sort of successful.  He does eventually apologize and behave.  Hopefully he doesnt start slapping Baby Girl just to get me to "play" time out though.  Further proof that nothing you expect when parenting actually works out that way.

Armed & Accidentally Dangerous

Big Boy and Baby Boy both have new Nerf guns - courtesy of Santa. Knowing Santa the way I do, I can only wonder at his mental process. Not that 'he' would gift them the guns, but that Baby Boy's gun is every-so-slightly out of his skill set. This has created a new category of mom crazy. Here is how this process works:

Baby Boy finds a stray nerf bullet or gun that I meant to hide but apparently missed. He is immediately enraptured, spouting "My Gun!" and "Mama, where bullets at, more?" every other minute.

The minute he is not saying these things, he is handing me the gun because the gun shoots one lousy bullet at a time. Santa believed this would be good - age appropriate, easy to navigate. Not the case.

Baby Boy is able to load the bullet into the gun. He is NOT able to pull back the lever that cocks the gun. So he finds a bullet, puts it in, makes me pull the level, shoots something, and then we begin again. Santa should have got him a Nerf machine gun - at least that way Mama could load it all up and get five minutes worth of laundry done.

Once he is loaded, he hunts for a target. He has surprisingly good aim for a two year old. And apparently there is a gene built into boys that gives them immediate disdain of stationary targets. Baby Boy instinctively knows that it is no fun to shoot the piano...or the chair...or his stuffed bear. He was born knowing what the off limit targets are...and wanting to shoot only them. Santa must be behind this, too.

Mama: Shoot your bear!

Baby Boy: No! Shoot (insert one of our three dogs here)!

Mama: No, be nice to doggies.

Baby Boy: Shoot sister!

Mama: No, we do NOT shoot the baby in the head. Not ever.

Baby Boy: (grins slyly) Shoot Mama?

What the hell. At least that way I have the bullet already to reload.

God Works Through Gallstones

I did not want to have a gallbladder attack.

Not the first time.  Or the second time, a few months later.  I really didn't want the third one when I was eight months pregnant and already miserable.  And I totally didn't want the last awful one that brought me literally to my knees in the bathroom for fifteen hours. 

After that last miserable night, I definitely did not want to not eat a single thing for four days.  I did not want the blood tests or the CT scan with its IV that the tech warned me would feel like I was peeing my pants.  (Side note:  He was pretty round, had a white beard and glasses AND was abnormally cheerful at eight in the morning.  Ya think Santa works in health care?)

When all the dust settled and it was established that my vital organs would live to see another day...I still did not want to give up my Coke or my deep dish pizza or my yellow cake with chocolate frosting or my mid afternoon candy bar snack....or....or...or....

BUT...

I do want to be the best role model and the healthiest mom that I can be.  I want to be active with my kids and not worry about health issues.  I want my kids to grow up with a healthy relationship with food and a good self image.  I dont want Baby Girl to follow in my fatty footsteps.  Soooooo....

God sent me gallstones.  And said get your ass moving.  

So I did.  I am down 17 pounds since the beginning of December and feel better than I have in a long, long time.  I haven't had any pop or fast food (except a plain hamburger for Sunday morning McDonald's tradition) or pizza delivery for over a month.  It was hard...and I may or may not have been crabby, ask my husband...but I feel a giant sense of accomplishment that I have every intention of continuing.

Thanks for the ass kicking, God.  Next time maybe though, consider a kindly stranger message, would ya?  I promise to listen this time.  

Her Highness

We have (almost) solved the dilemma of putting Baby Boy to sleep without tears on his part or ours.  So naturally, Baby Girl decides to step it up.

Someone has to fill those slippers, right?

She wakes up crying for the third time since I put her down, thoroughly unhappy with this new teething process that is going on.  She does NOT want to lay back down in her crib...no binky will soothe her...when offered a bottle she writhes and screeches in disgust as if I just offered her rat poisen.

Fiiiiiiiiiine.

I will pick you up and transport you to your preferred mattress, princess.

Once ensconced in between Jack and I, she snuggles her little body in, turns her unblinking and suddenly calm eyes on me, and holds up her hands.

My bottle, peasant.

Yes, your majesty.  Right away, your majesty.

Now the same rat poison offered five minutes and twenty feet ago is suddenly gourmet baby nirvana.  Three sucks later, the bottle lilts drunkenly and she turns her self satisfied little face into my neck and breathes deep.  Her belly is full, her world is safe, and there is no night time magic more powerful than Mama's bed.

Sleep tight, my princess.

Sleep, Babies, Sleep

Happy New Year! 

2015 started off with the best night's sleep ever...in fact, I think this holiday was created just for mothers of small children.  Think about it...

Last night my whole house was up late.  Big Boy kept it going until almost eleven and Baby Girl stayed up to kiss Daddy at midnight and went down swinging close to one.  Jack and I went down about a half hour later.

For everyone else this was apparently exhausting.  My early bird worm eating husband is still out cold and it is 9:30...this is unheard of.  Baby Boy is cuddled up next to him and if I try and touch him he growls and swats at me.  Baby Girl hasn't made a sound since she went to bed so I had to check to make sure she was still breathing because I was legitimately worried.  Yup.  Everyone is alive and well...but exhausted, so they slept ALL.NIGHT.LONG.

This mama?  This mama is bright eyed and bushy tailed.  Despite making questionable late night food choices and drinking not one...not two...but three generous glasses of various red wines after a year of barely remembering where I keep the wine glasses - I slept for EIGHT hours!  Eight!  Uninterrupted!  On a typical night I might get six hours - and that is broken up by crying and cuddles and bedwetting and bottles.  Usually a lot of me threatening and begging and cajoling for a solid hour.  This night?  Total Magic.

I am done with the fifty bedtime routines people swear work...we are having a New Year's party ever night from now on.

I must buy more wine.