Mountain Time

I am loving Mountain Time. Ever since we went to Santa Fe and the kids got used to going to sleep an hour earlier - even two - I have had entire evenings to do with what I please. It's amazing the difference between putting them to bed at 9:30 and putting them to bed at 8:30. It's the best freaking hour ever. I'm delirious about this hour. And it just worked out that now sunset is happening earlier anyway so the kids don't question the shift. They don't even know! And this whole week they've been falling asleep without the usual hassles. I don't have to repeat the sleep tricks for the hundred millionth time. And they don't call me back to sing one more song or one more kiss or I have to pee or go get Aba or I want to sleep with your crocs (this was a real request). And here's the kicker: they don't wake up any earlier! They wake up at 7:00 am! So they're sleeping an extra hour! Providence! Today, in fact, they fell asleep in the car at 6:00 on our way home from a friend and slept for a solid hour. Any parent will tell you this is kiss of death. A nap at 6:00?! Forget it. You're screwed for the next two days. But they woke up as we were pulling in and I told them to get ready for a bath. We had the bath and I got them in the jammies, made them their snack , read them two stories, brushed their teeth and they were in bed by 7:50 and asleep by 8:15 which is my personal best. If my competitive side takes over the kids will be asleep by 6:30 come November.

Running on Fumes

Today I'm exhausted. Between the sick child (still sick!), drop off for the last day of preschool before the big transition to a new school, having blood and urine drawn so I can get life insurance before I turn 36 in two weeks, filling a landslide of print orders after a seven year famine in August, strolling my daughter to Starbucks only so I could place my order and then realize I had forgotten my wallet because I took it out of my bag to show the Quest Diagnostic dude my ID, rushing out to the frame shop to get frames for the prints I made for my kids' preschool teachers, wrapping presents, going to pick up my kid and realizing my daughter probably has an ear infection, sobbing at school with their teachers because it's the last day even though they still babysit for us but anyway it seemed a little gut-wrenching at the time, speeding over for her appointment, handing the kids off to my husband so I could make 6:30 dinner reservations with my preschool mom buddies and stopping at Starbucks at 10:00 pm to pay off my morning debts, I need a vacation. Thankfully I get one starting Saturday. How did I do all this when I worked full-time?


* bonus picture of kids running

Serial Cereal

Our kitchen cabinet looks like the set of Seinfeld. We have like six different boxes of cereal at any given time. And my son has a name for each one. And all I can say is kudos to General Mills for coming up with the brand name Cheerios because it's actually the way my son pronounces the word "Cereal". So now everything is some version of Cheerios. Way to create brand loyalty early. Here's the roster:

Yellow cheerios - Joe's O's from Trader joes
Mommy's cheerios - Fiber O's (yes, I need fiber)
Bue cheerios - frosted shredded wheat in a blue package from Trader Joes
Monkey - Gorrilla Crunch
Mighty Bites - Mighty Bites
This one - Kashi Crunch

And I'm not sure how I allowed this to happen, but every single morning my son wants every single cereal. And like a schmuck I pour a little of everything into a bowl for him. And he notices if I skimp out on any one of the six different cereals. I don't feel too bad because these aren't like fruity pebbles or cocoa crispies. I mean the kid likes fiber cereal. But I'm getting tired of this another in a series of ridiculous routines that we have indulged. Like when he insisted on turning off all of the lights in the house before he went to bed. That lasted about a year. Or how he insists to click the safety belt buckle on his car seat. Pity the grandparent who doesn't remember this little rule. FBT*. Well not anymore. He's slowly growing out of tantrums. Instead you'll get a lecture.

They tell you that kids need routines and it's true. My kid for sure does not like surprises and he thrives in a predictable environment. But try telling him that it's summer and he really doesn't need to wear socks to sleep or long pajamas or be tucked-in with a heavy fleece blanket. He'll be sweating his head off and still insist on the "tuck-in".

I pick my battles. This week it's cereal.
Next visit to the grocery store we're skipping the "cheerio" aisle.

* Full-blown tantrum

It's 103

I have a feeling that all toddlers suffer from a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder. I think it's how they learn. My son asks me at least a hundred times a day if I have my cell phone. And my keys. And my wallet. And is my wallet in my bag. And did I call grandma. And is my phone charging. Over and over and over in a relentless pursuit of affirmation. On the one hand I know he's learning about the art of conversation. He hears us say this kind of stuff all the time. He's mimicking. But on the other hand sometimes I feel like I'm raising Rainman.

And it's not just the repetitive questions. He becomes inexplicably attached to the strangest objects. It's usually the stuff that I use all the time - like my phone, my wallet etc. The other night though he woke up nearly in tears because he wanted to sleep with my Crocs. (?!) This was at 4am. He was calling "I want to wear your Crocs" and wandering around his room half asleep. I brought him back to his bed and he promptly returned to sleep. An hour later he wanted the crocs again so I brought them and he slept with my shoes. I mean, that's weird right?

The crocs was just a one night thing thankfully. The item that seems to have captured his imagination for the longest duration is his ear thermometer. I started using it on him when he was about a year and a half because, frankly, no one is a fan of the rectal thermometer. The ear one is so easy. And he loved it. He liked to check his own temperature, check mine, check his stuffed cat, check Micky Mouse. Then he wanted to carry it around the house and put it in and take it out of its case a trillion times. He wanted to sleep with it. And bring it in the car and to the supermarket. I indulged this behavior for the short while that he was sick but then when he went back to daycare I told him that I had to bring the thermometer back to his doctor since we didn't need it any more. He was not happy about that but little boys should be playing with cars and dolls and play dough, not ear thermometers. He asked about it for the next week and cried a little at the thought of his beloved thermometer. More recently I had to pull it out again to check his temp. It was 103. He spent the next two hours checking his own temperature and reminding me that it was 103. Which it no longer was, but try telling him that. "It's 103" again and again and again.

Now when he sees the thermometer he reminds me that we have to give it back to the doctor. I don't have to hide it anymore which is nice. He's growing up. His magic number remains 103. He got a little soo close to the oven the other day and then quickly backed away.

Him: It's hot.
Me: Yes, you have to be careful sweety.
Him: Is it hot mommy?
Me: Yes, it's very hot in the oven.
Him: Is it 103?

Yes it is.

I love the smell of urine in the morning

I knew it was a bad idea. My husband was putting my son's pajamas on and asked if he could wear his elmo undies tonight. He'd been dry for the last five mornings so I figured, what the hell right? But then when I asked Mr. Underwear if he would sit on the potty for me before going to bed he started to whine.

Noooooo....I'm ti-yud. I want to go to sleep.

He had that pouty puss look and I was certain he'd wet his bed but I just could not be hassled to:
A). Wrestle with him onto the potty
B). Wrestle him out of his elmos and into a pull-up

Plus, he's always wiggly at bedtime so the idea that he might actually just go to sleep without a big production because he was, as he claimed, "ti-yud", well I just couldn't pass it up.

Indeed he was tired and went to sleep without a peep. Until 5am.

The horror. The horror.

I hear him bellowing, "I don't want it. I don't want it." The IT in this case referring to the liter of urine that he is now lying in. So I get annoyed and start lecturing him about how he needs to listen to mommy and go pee pee before he goes to sleep as I'm peeling off his wet pajamas and stripping his bed. Of course it was obviously my fault for not putting him back in his pull-up, but in the fuzziness that is 5am everything is his fault, or my husband's fault or god's fault.

One thing I know for sure, tonight is a pull-up night.