Just observations

I’m thinking that Sunday’s choir practice was a bit on the wild side. We got a lot of work done, and they sang beautifully in the evening service, but I’m completely puzzled as to how we got anything done. So I just accept the fact and move on, acknowledging that sometimes Monday makes a pre-emptive strike.

Being off to a running start this week, Monday continued with Caleb smashing his head on a corner of the wall shortly after breakfast. There’s nothing like being able to watch your child’s head swell and turn purple within seconds, right before your eyes. After the initial bump, though, Caleb didn’t seem to mind at all. Abigail also whacked her head today. She was trying to pull herself up on some furniture and went over backwards. Toddling. So it begins.

Also notable is the fact that we got the car inspected. That story would make a crazy blog all by itself and perhaps someday it will, but it won’t be tonight. :P

Monday was bath night. I always have mixed feelings about bath night. It’s always a bit more work, and sometimes a major cataclysmic event, but bath time has the distinction of being just about the only time the boys are quite happy to be confined to a small space, a bonus which generally outweighs any drawbacks caused by tidal waves, etc. Tonight’s bath was actually quite uneventful, despite the fact that I overheard Daniel exclaim, “This is a disaster!” That was a bad moment for me. I need to add the word “fictitious” to Daniel’s vocabulary. Then when there’s nothing for me to worry about, he can yell, “This is a fictitious disaster!” How did I know the “disaster” was fictitious? Because it was closely followed by: “Oh, no! My wheels just came off!” There was an unintelligible response from Caleb, followed by Daniel’s conspiratorial whisper: “Caleb, we don’t have wheels!”

Anthony and I have the most ridiculous conversations when we’re both half asleep. Tonight he conked out almost immediately and began snoring, so I poked him.

“You’re snoring!”
“Ishyouwuh reashorry, wuddo taymore.”
“What?!”
“If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t do it anymore!”
“Do what?”
“Wake me up when I’m asleep!”
“I didn’t say sorry, I said you’re snoring!”
“Wayeerugs.”
“What?”
“Wear earplugs!”
“I don’t have any.”
“There are lots on my dresser.”
“They’ve all been in your ears. That’s disgusting! Besides, I wouldn’t be able to hear the kids if they woke up.”
“Yeah, isn’t it great?”
And we both went to sleep.

I wish I could end my blog there, because to me the phrase “went to sleep” is the happiest possible ending to all stories, but with toddlers the story never seems to end there. Abigail woke me up for an early breakfast, but I thought I’d check on the boys first. We’ve been putting a space heater in each of the children’s rooms at night, (very kid-friendly, which is almost unfortunate because they can turn it on and off themselves) and I found Daniel asleep on the floor in front of the heater. Caleb’s bed was empty. Sure enough, he was asleep on the floor in front of the space heater in Abigail’s room. After I sorted that out, I fed one very hungry munchkin.

By this time, Anthony was snoring again. I sat Abigail up on my lap and patted her back. She listened intently. Lately she's been trying to imitate sounds, like singing "la la la" and "da da da," etc. Then she made a sound I've never heard her make before. An awful, snorting, wheezing sound through her nose. She wasn't in distress or discomfort; she was doing it on purpose.

I believe with all my heart she was trying to snore just like daddy. I enjoyed the entertainment for a few minutes, then I put her back in her crib.

And I didn’t poke Anthony.

Not because I was sorry, but because it isn’t working.

So I’m going to the couch where there is peace and quiet and a friendly cat.

And I sincerely hope this will all end with the phrase "went to sleep."