We were on a roll. Thing 2 did some sleeping in the darkest hours that made Hubs and I gasp and say, “Blessed art thou among children!” Because five hours with the eyes closed? Nailed it this last weekend. And six hours even? Mmm-hmm. Pulled one of those, even, that made the angels’ choir in the heavens above rise up and sing a “Hallelujah!” Hubs and I began patting ourselves on the back and saying, “See? We are totally FANTASTIC at raising children, because look! Thing 2 can finally add I SLEEP LIKE A DREAM to his resume, exactly like the boy did clear back in 2000, when we were also VERY EXCELLENT PARENTS TO A NEWBORN.”
Because the boy? Well, he was a gifted sleeper, and Hubs and I took full credit for that, because yes! We totally knew how to raise babies and get them to sleep; we could have written a parenting book on it.
Only I’m not sure it was… you know… US. I think the boy just had a spiritual gift of sleeping through the night, and he was willing to display his gift at a VERY early age, and Hubs and I erroneously took full credit for it.
And then God showed us last night and reminded us how pride doth go before a fall, because Thing 2 started out with a three-hour shift last night. And then he pulled a ninety-minute shift, which reminded us of the golden oldie days of last month, but this time his Huggies diaper had blown out and sprung an amazing leak, which sopped everything he had been in contact with and turned his bedding into Lake Eerie. We had a complete change of clothes and blankets, and I verbally let Hubs know exactly how I feel about Huggies; I blamed the Huggies fully for waking me up, and I told Hubs, “We will never have another box of them in our house! EVER!” So we had another bottle, as long as we were, you know, AWAKE, and then we went back to bed, and Thing 2 was up ninety minutes after that, begging for EVEN MORE warm milk. I may or may not have said, “This is ridiculous, Thing 2! Mama is going to have you go live in the jungle with the chimpanzees,” but I made the bottle anyway. And that silly baby took exactly four swallows of Similac and went to sleep.
All of that fussing and dragging Mama back out of bed for four bites.
Thankfully, it was quite dark and I couldn’t see the business card from the traveling band of gypsies, which they left for us last month.
So then this morning, when Thing 2 decided that HELLO, MY PEOPLE! IT IS 5:40 IN THE MORNING, AND WE SHOULD ALL CELEBRATE THE RISEN DAY WITH A LITTLE MORE MILK AND PLEASE TURN THE CEILING FAN BACK ON SO I CAN SEE IT AND TALK TO IT AND TELL IT GOOD MORNING, TOO!, I managed to shuffle out of bed and get the party started.
And then I showered. And I applied eye shadow. And I used the eyelash curler to add some curl to the short, stubby eyelashes Jesus blessed me with, and then I grabbed my tube of Buxom Lips Lip Gloss in Raisin Brandy color and swiped it right over those eyelashes, instead of using mascara.
Raisin Brandy lip gloss on my eyelashes did nothing to enhance my brown eyes, and only made me want to unleash a torrent of sailor slang, because WHAT A MESS ON MY FACE, PEOPLE!
And THAT is the kind of day I have had.
But Thing 2 kept smiling at me, and the boy told me tonight, “I think this is the best dinner ever, Mom; I just love fish sticks,” so things did get better after this morning.
Last night, the boy played some soccer in the wind and the
tropical ridiculously chilly April weather, and Hubs and I went to cheer him and his team to a 6 to 3 win. I would say that Thing 2 did some cheering also, but no. He gasped in the wind, turned his head further into his blanket, and went to sleep because it was daylight.
And this boy? Oh! How I love this kid!
There’s Cody, the boy and Teegan, laughing at SOMETHING during the game, as only boys are prone to do. Whereas girls wave to the audience when THEY play soccer, boys ignore the audience and just have a good, gut-busting laugh about things like burps and Garfield comic strips that they read in their library book.
The boy’s grandparents were coming to the first game last week, and asked, “What color of jerseys are we looking for out there where everyone is playing?” And I told them, “When you find the team who is dressed in a color that burns your retinas and makes you wish that you’d invested in a pricey pair of polarized Oakleys instead of cheap sunglasses from the local Walmart, you have found us. If you have to ask yourselves, ‘Are those jerseys bright enough,’ then you are on the wrong soccer field.”
Last night we played the muted green color, which happens to be Kellen’s team, so Hubs and I had to secretly cheer for ONE of the opponents whenever he made an outstanding kick.
Of course Tavy took good care of Thing 2 in the bleachers. She kept him wrapped up in his blanket, and she mothered the tarnation out of him. Tavy may only be a second grader, but she knows how to rock babies and keep them happy!
And there’s our little friend, Tate, after I bribed him to smile for my camera. Tate was busy. He had some bleachers to jump off of sixteen hundred and twelve times, and he didn’t want to stop jumping to have his picture taken.
And then I had to snap a picture of little Bae-John. Bae-John is the little brother to the boy’s good friend, Quinn. Bae-John was at our game last night, and he had cut strips of decorative duct tape into fancy pieces, so that he could be a super hero with a mask. He was very busy fighting crime and battling bad guys on the sidelines with well-placed karate chops and kicks and roundhouses and air punches.
And then, after the GRACIOUS, BUT THOSE ARE SHOCKINGLY BRIGHT JERSEYS team won the soccer game, they all congregated around one of the moms for snacks, because the win pales in comparison to bags of miniature cheese-stuffed Ritz crackers and pouches of Capri Suns.
And then we crawled into the Suburban to head for home, and look what I managed to catch with my camera:
Have a great weekend, folks.