They couldn’t even save themselves with their cuteness this time

Today, we became those parents. You know, the ones whose kids freak out and have a huge brat fest in the middle of the public place. Before today, we’d had one kid or the other act out for various reasons but today it was both.At the same time. In the aisle of the paint section. Today it was the child in the back of the cart who put the child in the front seat in a headlock because they were fighting over a paint brush. Seriously, let me get you another one. I know where I can find about 200 of them. RIGHT BEHIND YOU.  Both screamed and kicked, while all the customers looked on and probably judged us for having two brats and not even being able to control them, all while being knocked up, too! Lucky me!

This was probably the worst public tantrum they’ve ever had where we wouldn’t control them. GRRR. After a good verbal whoopin’ in the paint aisle of Lowes, I angrily sent off the girl for consolation from daddy (At this point, I was not speaking to her) while the boy decided to continue to rant and screamed until I yanked him out of the cart. I was tempted to leave the cart (um, with him in it) in the appliances section.

If you were at my local Lowe’s around 12:45 this afternoon, I apologize. I know they sell earplugs somewhere in that store, maybe aisle 20…?

Now that we’re home, they are both napping peacefully and they better be in a good mood when they wake up.

***

 

Nothing to do, so I ramble

Both kids are down for their naps. I know I should nap but I don’t really feel like it. Actually, I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t want to cook, I don’t want to clean, I don’t want to nap. I think I’ve entered that stage of pregnancy where I am just eager to get to the end. This pregnancy has been much more difficult than my previous two. I am already aching and tired. I have horrible acid indigestion. My pants are getting tighter by the day. The pants part disturbs me only because um, they are sweat pants.

I wonder about this baby. I wonder how he/she will be accepted by my two children. I already feel like I give more attention to my older girl than the boy. He’s had such the second child shaft. Luckily, he’s a relatively easy going and happy kid, so he probably doesn’t even notice. Also, I’m a middle child and I turned out fine. Heh. Sure…

We’ve been contemplating when to start preschool for E. She turns 4 this fall and I know she’s ready and could use some time outside the house with other children. I’m just not sure if I’m ready. I feel like I just got the opportunity to quit my job and spend these formative years with them. I know preschool is only 3 hours a day, twice a week but just the thought that she’d be away from me for that time makes me a little sad. Now, I’m sure I’ll feel differently when I have three kids to worry about day in and day out, but right now I like having her home with me. She’s like my little assistant - she gets the diapers when it’s time to change O, loves to help me in the kitchen and just keeps me company with her constant chatter and laughter. Also, the kids play really well together most of the time so it allows me to just sit back and relax once in a while.

However, on the flip side I do see the need to spend some quality alone time with O. Once in a while he’ll wake up from his nap earlier than his sister and so we get some quiet time to ourselves. I sit back and observe how much he enjoys just having my full atention on him rather than sharing the spotlight with his sister. I don’t think he really minds because he just adores his big sister, but it nice to have that bonding time without someone else jostling for my attention. He is definitely the less jealous of the two… so far.

 

 

Monday. I’m so tired.

Kid,

You’re cute and all, but here’s the thing. We have got to talk about this waking up three times a night thing. C’mon now. Remember those days when I would have to wake you up to shove a boob in your mouth?

Remember? REMEMBER? Of course not!

It is now a nightly ritual for you to wake up at 12:00. And then, two hours later. A mere two hours! You wake up again. Gurgling and screeching in your crib. I shove a pacifier in your mouth, desperate to stave off your hunger for another hour or so. But to no avail. Screech, Screech, Screech. I grumpily roll out of bed, grab you by the pj’s and nurse you with my eyes closed. 10 minutes later, you are peacefully mumbling to yourself and I lay you back down. Then? Two! more! hours! later! you insist on even more sustenance. Incidentally, once I nurse you for the last time before going to work, you decide to let Daddy sleep in and do not wake up for another four hours or so.  How lucky for Daddy. Oh, and by the way, that’s not funny.

By this time, the sun is rising and Mama needs to throw herself in the shower, headfirst. If I’m really tired, I wash my hair sitting down in the tub. That’s more than a little pathetic, isn’t it? I know. Cannot be helped. I’m tired. My eyes look like they’re about to go on vacation, because the bags? They are packed. My clothes all have that familiar wrinkle to them and my hair is wack. Wiggity wiggity wack. See? I’m quoting bad rap. Something must be done. 

Ok, I am off to go appear busy and work and drain yet another fruitless cup of coffee. I’ll wait for the day you decide to do me a huge favor and sleep.For at least 3 or 4 hours. Maybe. MAYBE. Even through the night? Please? But until then, I suppose you can use your dashing good looks and toothless grin to charm me in the middle of the night.