Every week at The House there’s random shit that happens that just makes me (or Mike) laugh. Sometimes we laugh because we’re sleep deprived (and it’s really not that funny) but sometimes it’s just too hard not to laugh at the stupid stuff we do.
Big Boy Bed
|Sleeping in the big boy bed, hope he doesn't fall off...|
Last Saturday Mike and Uncle Steven (Mike’s best friend) picked up a toddler bed for Silas (28 months). I found a good deal on it on Craigslist so we bought it after much debate (toddler vs. straight to twin bed). Being me, I worried that Silas would get out of bed every night (or worse [funnier], fall out of bed). When Mike and Steven brought it home, Silas and I went out to help them bring it in because I wanted Silas to be part of the transition from the get go. He went out to the truck and grabbed a side of the bed and “helped” them bring the bed into the house; he even went and opened the door to get it in the house when Steven asked him to. Big Helper, awesome! We put the bed in his room next to the crib, made the bed, and a few hours later it was nap time. He excitedly got up on his little bed to nap, and an hour later he emerged from his room (opening his own door). Rut-roh. If he can do that now, I thought, he can do that tonight or early tomorrow morning.
We took the crib out of his room and moved the big boy bed to its spot, facing the same way. Mike and I made a big deal that night of him being a Big Boy and reminding him to stay in bed at night. He complied. The next morning? He was a ninja – he got out of bed and out of his room without me even waking up (and I’m a light sleeper – noises from the monitor always wake me up). I found him at 7:45 a.m. playing with trains and attempting to watch Thomas on the DVD player (which is also Mike’s Xbox – imagine the chaos if that were to have broken…hey wait, maybe that’s not a bad idea…hey Silas, come here…).
He’s only fallen out twice so far. The second night I hear crying around 2:30 a.m. over the monitor and I go in to check on him. He’s sitting up, eyes closed, crying, “Momma…momma…” “What’s up buddy?” I ask. He grabs his blankets as if to come with me, and rolls headfirst off his bed onto the floor. Completely asleep. I pick him up and he’s still asleep. I lay him back down and cover him up, and that’s the end of that. But try not laughing at your asleep kid falling off his bed (it’s only a foot off the ground people, I’m not that horrible of a person). The second time he literally fell out in his sleep. He was asleep horizontally on the bed when I went to bed, but then an hour later there was a thump and some crying – tuck and roll buddy.
Ask and Ye Shall Receive
|My concrete thinker|
I have a bad habit of asking Silas questions that are really more theoretical than concrete and he, being, you know, TWO, takes them literally. Like the time I was trying to potty train him with Cheerios and I tossed a Cheerio into the toilet and told him to “Get it.” I meant pee on it. But he looked at me like I was crayzay, and when I told him to go ahead he reached into the toilet water and scooped out the Cheerio. Oh. I. Oh. Well. Nevermind. I was banned from Cheerio-ing. Today Silas was blowing raspberries at Steven and it sounded like it was getting out of hand so I called Silas to me. “Hey, what were you doing?” I asked him. Mike cringed. Silas blew a raspberry at me – glasses covered in spit. I had that coming. Hey Liz, remember how you tell your students that toddlers take everything literally and don’t understand insinuation or sarcasm or humor a lot of times? Yeah.
Two For the Price of Poo?
A few months ago I was on the phone with my BFF, Missy, who has two daughters, ages almost 3 and 1. She told me she had to get off the phone because they had synchronized pooping and I just thought that was funny. “Just you wait, your boys will do it too. One poops and the other does and you have to deal with two diapers.” Well tonight Silas was “asleep” (i.e., futzing around in his room) and the Internet alarm went off, meaning he had pushed the button on the box. I went in his room and it stank to high holy hell. I asked if he pooped and he denied it. Mike came in and we turned on the light and changed his dipe. Mike went back to the living room, I cleaned the diaper and put it in the wet bag, and then I went back to say goodnight (again) to Silas. Sage started crying in the living room.
|Sage not currently screaming.|
Me: Yes, Sage is crying.
Silas: Oh no!
Mike (in the living room): Oh god!
Me: I have to go.
Me: Your brother just pooped too. And apparently it’s a big mess.
Missy wasn’t lying. What the hell boys? Really?
We’re also trying out the potty learning bit around here. Lots of naked buns time and random accidents. Asking Silas to use the potty is turning into a crying fight, so I’ve decided that he’ll be naked and I’ll remind him that the potty is there to pee in and we’ll see how it goes. Dino tattoos seem to be helping along in the process. Silas’ right arm is covered so far (with dinos in various stages of decay).
Did I Mention I’m Tired?
|Sage and Momma|
Sage hasn’t been sleeping well at night, and you know us adults, we prefer to sleep at night, so I’m getting maybe 4 hours tops every night for the past three days. I’m tired. I’m cranky. Have you seen that “unnecessary censoring” of Sesame Street? The one where Elmo says “*&^% you baby!” Yeah, I feel like that some nights. Tonight I wanted a glass of wine and I couldn’t find my one wine glass (we have somehow broken the other three, no ideas). It wasn’t in the glasses cabinet. I asked Mike if he knew where it was, and I could hear the whine in my voice.
Mike: Did you look in the dishwasher?
Me: No. *Whine*
Mike: Well…why not?
Me: Because I just want to whine about the fact that I can’t find it for a minute. I’m sure it’s in there.
Steven: [to Mike] That’s why I love your wife – she’ll actually admit when she’s whining and that it’s for no reason.
I’m really ready to go back to work. I’m not a house wife or SAHM by any means, and I am well aware of that fact. I have the utmost respect for Mommas and Daddys who work at home – but I just could not do it all day every day. I need sleep, wine, adult interaction, and a night nanny and everything will be back to “normal.” I have a sneaking suspicion that my idea of “normal” is never to be again. But there will be a new normal I suppose.
Honey, can you stop reading over my shoulder while I type? If you want to write for the blog go write your own damned post. Love you.
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