what's more fun?

listening to C yell "wake up Do-Do!" & "Daddy? You help me and come in the window?*" while they are supposed to be napping?

or

enduring Sammy's silent judgement as he ponders the futility of my mopping the floors.

It's a toss up, really. Both have their merits in the race to fully and finally divide me from my sanity.

(and fyi, H, I did not plug in, but am sending this from my phone in an effort to avoid twi-crack at naptime. seriously, I need a church basement meeting with bad coffee to kick this. It's a disease people!)


* what the hell?! When did anyone ever come in through her 2nd story window, let alone to 'help' her? She's a nutter.

Seeking Sleep Solidarity

Will someone please tell me that the screaming will eventually end?

The girls will be 2 next weekend. I work part time and leave them either with Daddy for one day and a babysitter and grandma on the other.

Last weekend H and I went away for 48 hours. That is how long we were gone. They stayed at home with grandma and reportedly did not ask one time where H and I were. They took naps for grandma and went to sleep no problem. Saturday morning, Z woke up early and G-ma let her come downstairs so that she wouldn’t wake C, but otherwise, routines were maintained.

So why then, did the last four nights of bedtime involve screaming and crying and hyperventilating and gagging, culminating last night in me yelling and drugging them with benadryl at midnight? C would not get into the crib without screaming. They would both cry for about 20 min and then stop, take a presumed nap (I don’t know what they were doing, no video monitor, but they were quiet) only to start up with the hysterics in another 20min. Seriously, this went on in a vicious cycle until 12am.

Mistakes I may have made:
1. We left while they were taking a nap. Poor planning, I know, please don’t lecture me on the importance of saying goodbye. Just tell me they will get over it before college applications come due.
2. H would go back upstairs after they started screaming again. They would sit on his lap, demand songs and calm down until he mentioned going back in the crib. Cue screaming.
3. They watched the Little Mermaid on the advice of G-ma (“It has sea creatures. They love sea creatures”) and are clearly traumatized by King Triton yelling at Ariel and breaking her statue (and yes, they have told me repeatedly that “ariel daddy breaked the spatue! That not nice!”) (also, can you tell that no one ever yells at them. Seriously, this is the part of the movie they have issue with. Not the freakish octopus lady. We love her.)
3. I have one of those twilight turtles that only stay lit for 45 minutes while they are supposedly falling asleep. This has never been a problem before as they are always asleep way before that, but the last few nights they’ve been begging to turn the stars back on.

I am mostly looking for support here and maybe a “been there, done that” Anyone who lectures me on the above mistakes will be hunted down. I am resourceful. And vengeful. Don’t make me feel any worse. Which could possibly be mistake #4 in that my children are horribly spoiled and it’s entirely my (well, and g-ma’s) fault. I think they are honestly afraid and possibly having nightmares, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I can do about it other than changing the subject when the freaking little mermaid comes up, and trying to replace it with elmo or curious george or blue clues or something else that has no angst or yelling.

And I’m really freakin’ tired. So if you have no advice, please send caffeine. And also, I may never go away again. So not worth it. Alas, I have a wedding in San Diego in October. May God have mercy on my soul.

Barftastic Addendum

Party #1 has notified me that the birthday girl has the pox. Let's see how well this new fancy varicella vaccine works.

Anyone want to place odds on both my charming darlings being covered by itchy red welts by the time I return from reunion this weekend?

According to G-ma the pox has a 10 incubation period. so that should land squarely on Daddy Day (also known as Wednesday to the uninformed) Won't that be fun for H?

Also, I like to say pox. say it with me "a pox on both your houses" see, it's fun.

Why Do These Things Always Happen to Me?

Subtitled: It's usually your fault

To make everyone laugh, I thought I'd relay a charming event that happened to us yesterday.

We (meaning I, Jeanne, mother and fool) to accept two birthday party invitations on the same day... in New Jersey. And not just New Jersey, but the first one was in Princeton. Where they were conveniently also holding commencement. Which the mother of the birthday girl failed to mention. She also failed to mention that she was serving 17 different types of baked goods.

I had to literally chase Z around the house and down the driveway, many, many times and change C's diaper twice (once after I had gotten her in the carseat) before heading to party number two.

The second party was thankfully on the way back home so we popped curious george in the portable DVD player and headed an hour and a half again (but at least it was north). Both girls sat transfixed by that naughty little monkey for the entire ride. As the credits rolled on georgie, we pulled down to the end of the cul-de-sac and Howie-started to park the car. He looked in his rear-view to check the distance and.....

wait for it......


Z barfed. Chocolate frosting spewed forth like a demonic fondue fountain.

I jumped out of the still moving vehicle and ripped open her door. Before i could get my now barf-soaked hands under the blanket she was holding to unbuckle her, she let loose again. and again. I managed to catch most of it with my hands and her blanket. I pulled her out of the car and quickly stripped her down to her socks and diaper. Then she started to cry.

But not because she had just vomited a willie-wonka-esque fountain. But because it had gotten on her blanket. Her very favorite, carry around the house, can't sleep without it, stick it up her nose whilst sucking her thumb blanket. She's essentially naked and screaming "Clean it off Mommy! Wipe off Blanket!" in my friend's driveway.

Did I mention we are three hours late to party #2 and now all the guests are leaving? Truly priceless.

Thankfully I have no shame and the mother of this birthday boy was my grad school roommate and therefore thought nothing of me tossing a vile vat of vomit into her washing machine. It's happened before. And I mean before kids.

And how was ms. Z after this debacle? She was the life of the party, running, playing and eating pretzels.

All I could think was, "thank god it was only one of them"