Feb
2
8:32 p.m. The bedtime routine begins.
10:32 p.m. The children are asleep. They’ve probably been asleep a while. I don’t know how long because I fell asleep, too. The amount of drool on that pillow pet and the indentation on my face suggest it’s been about an hour?
10:34 p.m. With baby monitor in hand, I head downstairs to pick up and get ready for the next day. Hey, maybe I’ll make it to bed before midnight!
10:38 p.m. The funny thing about Sex and the City is that 1) it’s always on somewhere and 2) it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen an episode, once I catch a glimpse, I have to watch it again.
10:58 p.m. Alright. Time to get stuff done…just as soon as I check this e-mail.
11:13 p.m. Why do I get on Facebook? Gah!!!
11:15 p.m. An anger-fueled cleaning frenzy begins!
12:01 a.m. Technically, it’s now tomorrow and my calorie slate has been wiped clean! And yes, I would like a fig newton!
12:03 a.m. I shouldn’t have had that fig newton. Or that other fig newton. Or that handful of marshmallows. I better do some yoga.
12:36 a.m. Now I’m not even tired!
12:38 a.m. Words with Friends.
1:01 a.m. In bed. Lights out. If I fall asleep right now, I’ll get…calculating…calculating…
1:03 a.m. It’s really quiet in the kid’s room. Too quiet.
1:05 a.m. I turn the monitor up, but I can’t hear anyone breathing with that heater on. I’m sure they’re fine, though.
1:06 a.m. I check the monitor again. Is Bee breathing? I can’t tell. Is her chest moving? She’s so still. Ah, I think she moved. Did she move? Yes, she did.
1:08 a.m. You know, I don’t think she moved.
1:09 a.m. Oh, I better check on them.
1:13 a.m. All the kids are in my bed. Stupid squeaking door!
Feb
1
Dave hasn’t slept with me in two weeks. Don’t get upset, though. It’s only because he hasn’t had a day off work in two weeks and he works a 12 hour midnight shift. (Of course, try explaining that to my heart.) (You can’t! It has no ears. Only feelings.) Since his round trip commute is more than two hours and there are only twenty four hours in a day and even less money in our bank account, he’s just been staying close to work, except for the days when I need to teach dance class. Then, he drives home to be with the kids. And if it’s Tuesday, he brings them to my Kindermusik class.
Yesterday was Tuesday and so I got to see him at Kindermusik. He looked tired and unshaven and in need of a haircut. I’m not sure his outfit matched either. I weighed four pounds less than when I last saw him, but I don’t think he noticed. He was too busy trying not to fall asleep.
I will see him again on Sunday. Or maybe Friday if I tell him I’m making turkey burgers and sweet potato fries for dinner. Meanwhile, life is going on without him here. And it’s going just fine! Until Phoebe brings me his ball cap and says, “Dada?” Then, it just sort of stops.
I’m counting the days until he’ll be back in my bed.
Jan
30
I’d just spent ten minutes talking Lucy out from under her bed – she’d called Julia a dumbass – when I came downstairs and saw this.
Oh, hi Picasso.
So nice to see you on my table.
“What? You want me to move?”
“Really?”
“Are you sure?”
“Alright. I’ll get up. Dumbass.”
Geez, what a potty mouth.
Jan
26
Lucy Gleams and Glows
by Leslie
I’ve been looking pretty old and haggard, lately, and I made mention of it while combing Lucy’s hair after bath time recently. And so, she sang me the most heart-felt and sincere version of that song Rapunzel sings in Tangled to make her hair glow.
“Do you feel better?” she asked.
I gave her a smile. “I do.”
She leaned in close and whispered, “I think my hair might be magic, too.”
“I think you’re right. Will you sing that again?”
She did.
Definitely magic.
Jan
25
This is why I don’t get to work out*
by Leslie
Guess where this penny has been?
If you guessed, “on a wild ride through Phoebe’s digestive system,” you win! (I won’t make you look at the penny-in-the-poop discovery photos.)
I know. You’re shaking your head at me. Leslie, you understand that baby-proofing your house includes keeping small items like this picked up and put away so tiny hands can’t get them, don’t you? How did this happen? Well, I’ll tell you: It was my mother’s fault. No. No! I’m kidding!!! (Mom, I’m mostly kidding.) It was Julia and Lucy’s fault.
My mom was keeping an eye on the girls while I was “working out” in the basement. They were playing Store and feeling uninspired by their wooden play money’s lack of authenticity and so they broke open their bank to use the real stuff. My mother told them not to do it. She told them to put the money away. They did not listen and Phoebe had an Abe Lincoln snack.
*Generally, I “work out” during nap time or when Dave is home, but he’s currently in the middle of a seventeen day work bender, which means he’s only home for about 8 hours every four days and during that time, he’s sleeping or going to softball meetings or bringing kids to my Kindermusik class which is why my mom was watching the girls. So, technically, I guess it’s Dave’s fault. I also blame fitness.
Stuff I Do
-
Stuff You Should Do
You know, Stuff.
