Bedtime Adventures

6:45 pm - finish bath.  Put BabyGirlie down -- she's out.

7 pm -- I decide to let the older two watch Cinderella III.  I then spend the next half hour gently reminding them to sit still and watch their movie.

7:30 pm -- They are still sort of, kind of, maybe watching Cinderella III.  I begin threatening older two with an early bedtime if they don't sit still and watch their show.

7:45 - I yell that "they are on their last chance," and "I am at the end of my rope!" I believe I may have threatened no stories again.  EVER.

7:46 - I take Boyo's toy gun away.

7:46:23 seconds - Boyo begins throwing a temper tantrum

7:46:43 seconds - Girlie asks if she is the best one of all my children because she is the "goodest girl ever."

7:47: I turn off movie and order them to bed.  Whining, pleading, and begging begins.

8:01: Bladders drained, water cups on the dresser, and the older two are finally tucked into bed and ready to fall asleep.  I go downstairs to feed BabyBug.

8:03: The older two creep out of their room and try to sneak into my bed.  When I see them on the balcony and ask what they are doing, they tell me they had a nightmare.

I point out you have to fall asleep to have a nightmare.

Girlie tells me that they did.

I tell them that is impossible to fall asleep, have a nightmare, and wake up in two minutes.

Girlie tells me that they were able to do so because "They are awesome."

My husband takes them back to bed.

8:05: Boyo comes running out of his room, screaming, "I listened to my body!"

I hear him run into the bathroom and start to pee.

I also hear BabyBug crying because he has woken her up.

8:17: Boyo asks me to come upstairs and snuggle him because he is afraid of the skunk that will climb in through the closed, second story window.  

At least they are getting creative.

8:23: The older two come downstairs, telling me that they are going to throw up.

I inform them that if they are going to throw up, they need medicine.

No, they tell me.  Just water.  Water will push the throw up down into their belly button, apparently.

Girlie takes a drink, says, "AHHHHHHH," and hands the cup to her brother.  He does the same.  They are both miraculously cured. 

I tell them that they are so full of it, it is starting to smell in the kitchen.

Boyo asks me, "Full of what?  Juice?"  Girlie begins sniffing the air to see what it smells like.

I burst out laughing.  Through my hysterical laughter and tears, I order them back to bed.  I inform them that if they don't stay put, I will cancel Christmas.

I think they realize that I mean it.  They don't get out of bed again.

8:31: The begin yelling for their Daddy to come give them kisses because they "love him so so much!"

BabyBug starts crying again.

I put my headphones in.

Chaos, your synonym is children

Allow me to introduce you to the chaos that is my house...

My husband and I normally start to lose our minds at dinner time. Sometimes earlier. Sometimes later. But dinner time is typical.

It starts when Boyo refuses to eat. So I bribe him with dessert. Just three bites...

Girlie then chimes in with, "Well, I'm going to have four."

That's great.

The kids finish, I'm speed eating to be ready to jump up and fend off disaster, and my husband, who after 4 years of having kids still hasn't learned how to eat fast, is taking his time. The kids ask to be excused. I say yes.

They begin to run around in circles - through the kitchen, down the hall, through each of their rooms, and through the living room. This lasts for about five peaceful laps.

Then I hear the dreaded, "Lets race!"

As I'm shouting, "No racing!" I hear the crash. And Boyo (for some reason, it's always him) say, "Uh-oh, I broke it Mommy, I broke it, whoopsie."

Girlie starts yelling at him, "I told you not to run! I told you not to race. You crashed into the lamp/table/pantry/wall/picture/couch/me! You are in the penalty box!" Way to throw him under the bus, honey. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it.

I stay quiet, hoping they will either a) figure it out on their own or b) call for their daddy.

Tonight, they figured it out on their own.

Next, my son runs into the kitchen. Only this time, he's naked. I don't know why he's naked, and it's easier if I don't ask. He drapes a dish towel around his shoulders and declares, "I hewo Mommy," before running into the bathroom.

Girlie chases him, screaming, "That's my shawl!"

I know I should speak up but again, it's easier to stay quiet. Keep in mind that during this, my husband is trying to have an adult conversation with me. Good luck with that, honey. We'll catch up in about 10 years.

My son runs by again, dish towel still around his shoulders. Girlie's wailing in the background. I take the time to shove two bites of food in my son's mouth as he goes by.

Boyo runs over to the dog dish and proceeds to dump the dog's food from the dish into the water bowl.

"Stop it," I order him. "Stop it right now! Stop it, Boyo! I mean it, you had better, stop it!" I know I should get up and remove him from disaster, but I figure if I keep saying stop it, he will listen to me in about 7 years.

Eventually my husband gets the hint, gets up and puts the kids in the playroom, locking the gate behind him.

Boyo begins to vigorously shake the gate, screaming, "Open de gate Mommy! Open de gate!" at the top of his lungs. Girlie chimes in, screaming, "Don't yell at Mommy! She's taking a break!"

My right eye starts to twitch.

The kids eventually settle themselves down and begin barking and howling at each other in the other room. I'm beginning to wonder if they have been replaced by a wolf pack -- which I'm willing to bet would be easier to handle -- when I hear my daughter say, "Brother, lets not be monsters anymore."

If only.

Peace reigns for a minute and 46 seconds (I'm timing it), before Girlie yells, "Brother has my scissors."

I get up, remove the scissors, pretend I don't see how they have pulled all of the cushions off of my couch, and lock them back into the playroom.

Five seconds later, I hear Girlie let out an ear splitting scream. I run into the living room to find Boyo in the penalty box (where he has put himself) and Girlie sobbing "Brother bit me!"

I soothe, my husband scolds, and we decide it's time for bath.

Thus, the bathtime battle begins...

First, they fight over whether or not they need to have bubbles. The both agree yes, but the fight is over whether or not they will have Princess bubbles or Toy Story bubbles. I decree there will be no bubbles.

Girlie goes and brushes her teeth, goes potty, and strips before climbing into the tub.

Boyo runs and hides in his room. He picks a pretty good hiding spot this time - behind the box of diapers that he is twice the size of. My husband carries him kicking and screaming back to the bathroom, where he holds Boyo and I pry his mouth open to brush his teeth. Then we dump him in the bath, where he screams, "No, no, no, I no want to!" for the three minutes it takes us to scrub him down. Girlie is, of course, helping by screaming, "You have to have a bath! You are dirty!"

My right eye is now twitching to the beat of the throbbing of my head.

After bath, I chase Boyo down to fight him into his pjs.

Girlie demands her yellow nightgown. Not her pink one. Or her white one. The yellow one. That is in the wash. An epic temper tantrum results. She demands I leave her room and slams the door behind me. My husband opens the door and scolds her for slamming the door and being rude to me. Tears abruptly end when he threatens no dessert.

We tell them they can watch one TV show before bed. Boyo wants Spiderman. Girlie wants Batman. Before another argument can start, my husband decrees that they are watching Star Wars.

I leave the three of them, snuggled on the couch watching The Clone Wars, to blog about it.

I wish I could have a glass of wine.

Big Boy Bed

~
There are so, so many reasons why I think we picked the wrong time to move our son out of the crib and into a big boy bed.

1. I just started a new job where I work from home, so nap time desperately has to happen.

2. I'm going to be working a few hours in the evening when my husband is home, so a routine bedtime is a must.

3. Since I just started a new job, my schedule is crazy and my kids are not getting quality Mom time. In fact, I'm mildly ashamed of how much TV they are watching. So I can't cuddle and soothe as much, in order to make this transition easier.

4. We are talking about potty training Boyo next month.

5. Boyo had slept in an Elmo Toddler Bed for awhile, but it scared the bejeezus out of him, so we weren't very consistent.

Still, none of this crossed our minds when my parents offered us a free twin mattress. And since there wasn't enough room for an Elmo bed, crib, and twin mattress in his room, the Elmo bed and crib were dismantled and stored in the garage. Boyo and I went shopping so he could pick out new sheets and blankets. We were good to go.

Bedtime on day 1 was a dream come true. Mattress is comfy, guard rail is up, and he loved the new bed.

Naptime on day 2 was perfect. He even took a 4 hour nap!! Still, I remembered when we made the switch to a mattress with our daughter: it was on about day 3 when she realized she could get out of the bed.

My son is a faster learner than she was at that age.

Bedtime on day 2 was a nightmare. He kept coming out of his room, peeking his head around the corner and saying "Hi," before he would wave at us and run back to his room. Finally, we dusted off the baby gate and put it up. So he sat at the gate and screamed for two hours.

Naptime on day 3 was no better. I finally thought I had him down when I rounded the corner and found this:
Great. Girlie's conspiring with him against me.

Stream of Consciousness

~

A conversation my daughter recently had with herself to keep herself awake while we were driving home:

"I love Daddy and Brother loves Momma I like to eat ice cream and watch a show in Momma's bed, Daddy can sleep on the couch while we watch princessessess just us girls I need my tiny seat, I don't like my new seat because it's too big and I'm too tiny but it has arm rests and my old seat didn't have armrests I'm three except when I go to Disneyland then I'm two and brother is a baby because he wears diapers and I can't have soda because I'm not big like Nikki's brother I'm still tiny I have one more pull up and then I wear panties and put my peepee in the potty like a big girl no accidents in my Cinderella panties I went swimming today at the birthday party cause I just did my best and I need a cup of water when we get home and I want to feed Kat dinner and play with my princessesses and GamGam and Poppa are going to take us to Disneyland and they are right behind us but I'm too tiny for my seat and I'm stuck in my seat not safe and I see the Big A! Lookit Momma, the big A!! I can spell my name and E-I-E-I...."

"...O?" I asked, turning around to find her like this in her car seat: