Making Alexander's baby book has been a fair bit of emotional labour for me. Between feeling a little bit of the sting of death (Grandma and Alexander loved each other so much, guys), I'm also a little bit in mourning for my child-bearing years.
New borns are the best.
They're exhausting, sure, but they're also the absolute sweetest. And I make 'em so cute.
But also I know that, like puppies, babies grow up into toddlers (and toddlers are a hot mess (still cute, but absolutely a hot mess)). And then preschoolers—boy, howdy. Then grade school. Then teenagers, which is a yet-unknown ball of wax.
We had a contractor over this morning to look at our basement (we want to put switches in for our lights because we're getting tired of having to turn on the lights for the kids any time they want to go down there (they're pull-string lights right now)) and he was laughing because Zoë and Alexander were fighting and I was trying to get them to not to.
"Let me tell you," he said. "You think two is hard. Wait until you have three."
"We have five," I said.
"I'll shut up now," he said. "But seriously. It doesn't get easier. It just gets different."
His kids are all grown and he seemed to enjoy having Zoë and Alexander be underfoot as he measured our walls and so forth. Zoë is in a particularly sour mood this morning because she didn't sleep well last night and as I was explaining this, the contractor said, "What?! Zoë! You didn't sleep well last night? That means you didn't grow well. The best way to grow is to go to bed early and stay there all night. And then naps during the day can help, too."
He just about had her convinced to take up napping again. But not quite. After thinking about it for a minute she saucily replied, "You can grow when you're awake, too, you know! Because I don't nap and I still grow!"
Anyway, that whole sleep deprivation thing is another reason to be glad we're coming to the end of our little kids years—so that we can exchange being woken up for nightly feedings and nightmares and so forth for...just staying awake waiting for and worrying about big kids.
Last night Zoë woke me up around 3:00 to tell me there was a spider in her room and it scared her so bad. She could see it climbing her curtains. And she couldn't sleep until I got it. But whether or not she saw a spider, we'll never know. We couldn't find one when we got back in there (which doesn't mean there was never one there; we have spiders everywhere in this house).
I tucked her back into bed and then, as I was tiptoeing out of her room, stepped on something soggy.
"Wait...what...?" I said. "Something's wet. What's wet?"
"I don't know," she said. "I definitely didn't pee on the carpet."
"Did you pee on the carpet?" I asked.
"I'm dry! You can check my underwear!" she said, so I did.
It was dry but, "Zoë! This isn't the underwear you went to bed in. Did you have an accident?"
"I couldn't make it to the potty in time!" she explained. "And the spider scared me. And..."
"Where's your wet underwear?"
"On the floor over there," she said.
I found it and it was definitely wet.
"But what about the carpet?"
"I don't know. I just peed in my bed. Definitely not on the carpet."
"I think you may have peed on the carpet."
"I did not."
"Your bed is dry. The carpet is wet. Ergo..."
"That's really weird because I just peed in my bed."
Ugh. She's still denying she peed on the carpet, but I definitely believe she couldn't make it to the toilet in time. And then she couldn't get back to sleep. She kept coming into my room to tell me about various shadows in her room, so I'd go in there to move a toy pirate ship, close the closet all the way, remove an offending stuffed animal from her bed, turn on primary music, tuck her in, turn off the fan, turn on the fan...
Between her and Alexander, I'm one tired momma this morning.
New borns are the best.
They're exhausting, sure, but they're also the absolute sweetest. And I make 'em so cute.
But also I know that, like puppies, babies grow up into toddlers (and toddlers are a hot mess (still cute, but absolutely a hot mess)). And then preschoolers—boy, howdy. Then grade school. Then teenagers, which is a yet-unknown ball of wax.
We had a contractor over this morning to look at our basement (we want to put switches in for our lights because we're getting tired of having to turn on the lights for the kids any time they want to go down there (they're pull-string lights right now)) and he was laughing because Zoë and Alexander were fighting and I was trying to get them to not to.
"Let me tell you," he said. "You think two is hard. Wait until you have three."
"We have five," I said.
"I'll shut up now," he said. "But seriously. It doesn't get easier. It just gets different."
His kids are all grown and he seemed to enjoy having Zoë and Alexander be underfoot as he measured our walls and so forth. Zoë is in a particularly sour mood this morning because she didn't sleep well last night and as I was explaining this, the contractor said, "What?! Zoë! You didn't sleep well last night? That means you didn't grow well. The best way to grow is to go to bed early and stay there all night. And then naps during the day can help, too."
He just about had her convinced to take up napping again. But not quite. After thinking about it for a minute she saucily replied, "You can grow when you're awake, too, you know! Because I don't nap and I still grow!"
Anyway, that whole sleep deprivation thing is another reason to be glad we're coming to the end of our little kids years—so that we can exchange being woken up for nightly feedings and nightmares and so forth for...just staying awake waiting for and worrying about big kids.
Last night Zoë woke me up around 3:00 to tell me there was a spider in her room and it scared her so bad. She could see it climbing her curtains. And she couldn't sleep until I got it. But whether or not she saw a spider, we'll never know. We couldn't find one when we got back in there (which doesn't mean there was never one there; we have spiders everywhere in this house).
I tucked her back into bed and then, as I was tiptoeing out of her room, stepped on something soggy.
"Wait...what...?" I said. "Something's wet. What's wet?"
"I don't know," she said. "I definitely didn't pee on the carpet."
"Did you pee on the carpet?" I asked.
"I'm dry! You can check my underwear!" she said, so I did.
It was dry but, "Zoë! This isn't the underwear you went to bed in. Did you have an accident?"
"I couldn't make it to the potty in time!" she explained. "And the spider scared me. And..."
"Where's your wet underwear?"
"On the floor over there," she said.
I found it and it was definitely wet.
"But what about the carpet?"
"I don't know. I just peed in my bed. Definitely not on the carpet."
"I think you may have peed on the carpet."
"I did not."
"Your bed is dry. The carpet is wet. Ergo..."
"That's really weird because I just peed in my bed."
Ugh. She's still denying she peed on the carpet, but I definitely believe she couldn't make it to the toilet in time. And then she couldn't get back to sleep. She kept coming into my room to tell me about various shadows in her room, so I'd go in there to move a toy pirate ship, close the closet all the way, remove an offending stuffed animal from her bed, turn on primary music, tuck her in, turn off the fan, turn on the fan...
Between her and Alexander, I'm one tired momma this morning.
This made me laugh out loud:
ReplyDelete"Let me tell you," he said. "You think two is hard. Wait until you have three."
"We have five," I said.
"I'll shut up now," he said. "But seriously. It doesn't get easier. It just gets different."
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Hope you get a nap today!