Thankful

My current view isn't too terrible. The cat is cute and cuddly. I like the photo on the wall. The shelves are piled with some books I'll be reading shortly.

 And best of all, I don't have to see this:

Yeah.

This was actually the "cutest" of a few pics, according to my darling (and honest) hubby. So. I'm looking and feeling pretty fantastic right now.

Thank you, oral surgery.

I don't remember the recovery process being so miserable after the 1st two wisdom teeth came out 20+ years ago. But then, it was 20+ years ago. I was still 20-. And I didn't have 3 munchkins who don't seem to understand when mommy needs a sick day.

I am incredibly thankful, though.

The surgery had no complications, despite all the forms they made me sign.

My dad drove 7 1/2 hours each direction in order to be the "responsible adult" who sat in the waiting room for 2 hours during the procedure and then hang out with the kids while I attempted to sleep off more of the anesthesia. And he went to the grocery store for me. Twice.

The hubs took an entire afternoon as an admin day and worked from home so that the Wild Things wouldn't also have to sit in a waiting room for two hours. He cooked dinner and even brought me breakfast in bed. And he is bringing me a doughnut after work today.

Maybe I've been pampered. Let's look at that picture again.

Do I look very pampered? Despite all that's been done for me, I don't really feel pampered. I've felt drunk and slightly nauseous for the past 24 hours, actually. I guess the drugs are working?

I'm thankful, too, that we were actually able to get in a half day of school. I just put out a stack of the stuff that didn't require much talking on my part and told them to get it done in whatever order tickled their fancy.

I may have bribed them with video games when they were finished.

Whatever.

Don't judge.

Or judge.

I'm just thankful they are playing nicely together and are not fighting over the title of King of the Wild Things.

What are you thankful for today?

The Zombie Apocolypse (or homeschool challenge #347)

When I imagined all the challenges that homeschooling my 3 little men would bring me, I did not anticipate one very real situation that we currently have on our hands.

Zombies.

They are real, folks. 

Three of them roll out of bed and stumble their way out of my boys' bedroom every morning between 8.30 and 9 o'clock. They sit at the kitchen table clumsily trying to feed themselves for what seems like an eternity every morning. They wander around moaning and (I think?) trying to get dressed and make beds and brush their teeth for another exhaustive amount of time. 

They are incapable of forming coherent thought until nearly lunch time, when I start to catch glimpses of real human kids behind those blank and lifeless eyes. And learning? Ha! They move in slow motion and their brains are not turned on until some time after lunch.

By evening they are full of pep and could probably go until midnight if I let them.

Despite my best efforts to convert them, their body clocks run on the exact opposite time table as mine (I blame their father).

I am a morning person.

I love to watch the sun come up while I sip a steaming mug of coffee. I do all my planning, cleaning, shopping, thinking in the hours before the rest of the house is stirring.

By the time I finish lunch, my brain is starting to slow down. Perhaps it's even melting bit by bit. Sometimes I think I can feel all of my intelligence and motivation leaking out. Dinner rolls around, and I am the one stumbling about grunting incoherent sounds. I am not long for the land of the living.

Just when the boys are ready to sit down and tackle phonics and math for a few hours, I find I have become one of the walking dead myself.

We are faced with a choice: zombie students or zombie teacher? 

What was that Sound?

Warning: This post may contain explicit content and have a high gross-out factor.

After the kids were tucked in and soundly sleeping, the hubby and I were sitting around and chatting when we heard a strange sound. It sounded a little bit like the cough/barf keyboard from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. You know the one I'm talking about.

We listened carefully to see if we could identify its origin or cause, but didn't hear anything else. We dismissed it. Figuring that if it had been anything important, we would have heard some sort of follow-up noises.

Roughly 20 minutes later, we discovered what had happened. Are you ready for this?

Shorty had apparently loudly pooped his pants while sleeping.

I know, I know. Don't ask me how one does that. All I know is that it happened. He awoke, uncomfortable due to the mess in his pants. Naturally. Then he reached in and removed the solid mass that he found, placing it in the center of his bed. Why wouldn't he? Who can walk with a large turd weighing him down? He decided to head to the bathroom to get cleaned up, as it was quite a messy bowel movement. As he reached the door to his room, he was faced with a dilemma. His hands were covered in excrement, yet he needed to turn the knob to get out. He tried to open the door with his elbows, because they were clean. That didn't work. He didn't want to call out loudly, since his brothers were sleeping, so he tried softly knocking on the door to see if we could hear him. We didn't.

We still don't know how long he was standing there before Daddy's Spidey Sense told him to check on the boys.

There he was, poo smeared in unlikely and unpleasant places, devastated at the state of things. And we had our answer to the question, "What was that sound?"

Saving Daylight

Everybody knows how most moms feel about time changes.

Springing forward used to just mean an hour less sleep. As a parent, it means wrestling your kids to bed at night before they are sleepy and then being late to church in the morning and dealing with tired and grouchy children while also being tired and grouchy.

Falling back, that once glorious night of an hour more sleep or party or reading, is forever changed with children. Their little bodies don't care that the clock reads 5.30 a.m. They are awake and ready for breakfast. And the little tyrants demand that you meet their needs.

I think one of the 3 things I actually liked about living in Arizona was that they don't buy into this whole time-change nonsense.

This morning, though, something glorious has happened in our house. It is 8.30 a.m. The laundry is done. The dishes are washed. The grocery list has been made. I even had a bath(!). Now I am sitting down to a cup of joe. And not a single other person in the house is awake.

getting silly with the webcam

You could say that I'm a little excited about this. My coffee is usually frigid and my ears full of the glorious chaos that is my life as a mommy to 3 little men. I love my crazy life. But I am going to savor this peaceful moment while I can. Moments like these don't happen very often while the sun is actually up, and this one is sure to be over soon.

do i look peaceful?

Slurp.

Ahhh.

this one.

This guy.

www.jillheupel.com

He is a piece of work.

I can hardly keep up with him. He is endlessly entertaining and exhausting. Here is an example of a typical conversation with him. He had just described to me a ropes course he wanted to build in the back yard when he was struck with even more inspiration (while on the toilet). This is where the video picks up.

Well, it would be where the video picks up if the stupid ridiculous computer would let me upload it. It is having problems. Or I am. Whatever

Here, I typed it out for you instead. You'll just have to imagine him wiggling all over the place as he describes his grandiose plans:

"And a Climatron. Wait. A teeny tiny igloo, but make it out of...but make hard stuff for the ice, and do fluff inside the hard stuff. And then paint the ice clear. And then...and then put dots on it because snow. And then dig a tiny hole in it. And dig another hole in the other side. And then do a tiny hole in the top. And then do another one and it...on top and then another one on top. And both of them the same on top. And then...and then a pretend comb. And then a slide so we go on top. So we go on top and then go down again. And then...and then slide down. And then...and then a pretend underwear. And then make a part pretend underwear to go un...tunnel...an underwear tunnel...a hard underwear tunnel to go through and then...and then see treasure everywhere with a line through. And then there's a trap, and we have to swing over. And then climb all the way to the top of a ladder and swing all the way back. And then go back down another ladder. Wait. Dive down a big ladder. I will have to do that when I'm eight and they're...when I'm 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. When I'm 10 and they...what will they be when I'm 10? When I'm 10 and they're 12. That's all."

His little brain is going all the time. He thinks in ways that I don't really understand. Even when he's doing phonics worksheets.

L: This one is having some fun...he...he jumped upside down. That's why he's kind of like a "p."
Me: Well, is that a "d" or a "p" that you wrote?
L: "d"
Me: It looks like a "p" doesn't it?
L: But, he jumped upside down because he was super excited.

One of his favorite games lately is "Exquisite Corpses." If you don't know this game, you should. It really is kind of fun. Plus, the crazy results make Shorty laugh like nothing else. Recently, we had to stop playing the game on the train because his cackling was disturbing other passengers. I, personally, don't understand how the truly joyous laughter of a child can disturb anyone. The hubby, however, assures me that it can. Here are the "corpses" we created just today.

I was also just informed that his monkey, "Budget," is a super hero, so he needs a cape. Budget also has a machine inside his nose that makes sausage traps. Sausage traps, in case you were wondering, shoot sausages at bad guys' eyes so they can't see. These sausages also make the bad guys break into pieces whenever they hit something. They are magic sausages, apparently, that's why they can do that.

Now, if you don't mind, my head is spinning and it's time for me to try to get the monkey to sleep. The boy, too, if all goes according to plan.

The Witching Hour

I've written about bedtime before.

It can be a bit of a circus at my house. Three little boys -- best buddies -- sharing a bedroom. It seems like one minute before bedtime, they are writhing around on the floor groaning about how tired they are, how they couldn't possibly eat their broccoli because they are just. so. tired. Suddenly, when it comes time to put on pajamas, they are running around like their hineys are on fire. The next hour is spent just trying to wind back down again.

This evening, after being sent to their room to get changed, I decided to set the timer. They had 15 minutes to change, tidy up, brush teeth, and get heads on pillows before lights out.

I'll give you 2 guesses how well that worked.

Go ahead, guess.

Boy #1 was busy reading a book on his bed, seemingly oblivious to the whole situation.

Boy #2 began running in circles screaming, "Fifteen minutes, oh no! Fifteen minutes!"

Boy #3 was screaming at boy #2, "that's not helping! That's not helping us get it done!" All the while not actually getting anything done himself.

Clearly they are making great progress in this area.

***I do need to point out that, when the timer dinged, all 3 were in pajamas, teeth were brushed, and the room was clean...except for one forgotten pair of dirty underpants in the middle of the floor.

Success? We will see how long the chit chat lasts before we use that word...

Whatever

When it comes to parenting, or kids in general, it seems like everybody's got some golden nugget they just can't wait to pass on to unsuspecting mothers.

It happens in grocery stores. At parks. In the doctor's office. Everywhere I turn I see someone staring me down, eyeing my 3 munchkins...some folks are practically drooling...ready to pounce with a tidbit.

Most often it's the same banal "You've got your hands full" that I've been hearing for 4 years. Yeah, thanks for that.

Occasionally it's to tell me that the kids could be triplets, or that they look nothing alike, or something along those lines. I've learned to smile & agree with whatever is said.

It also seems that everyone's uncle's sister's cousin had a set of twins. Great.

I heard a real gem while at a McDonald's in West Texas near the end of day 1 of our cross-country adventure. An older gentleman walked up to me while the twins were pushing & shoving each other enough to make up for the 18 hours they had been strapped into 5-point harnesses and unable to get their hands on each other and asked with no other intro: "You sure them kids is girls?" Um. No. No, I'm not sure of that at all. Since they have penises.

People are a hoot.

I have gone down a completely different path with this post than I had originally intended and I don't know why. Maybe just because I was looking for a way to squeeze in that story about the old guy at McDonald's.

What I was originally thinking about was the number of times I hear people talk about/read some parenting book discussing bedtime routines. Almost always, a bath is mentioned as a great part of said routine. This has never worked for my boys.

For some strange reason baths have always wound them up. Ever since they were tiny. Bedtime and baths do not go together with my kids.

Every once in a rare while, I think to myself that I've invented this whole idea that I must bathe my children in the morning. That they are wilder than the wildest of the Wild Things if I bathe them in the evening. It can't be true. This whole bedtime bath thing seems to work for everyone else. It worked for my mother, for my mother-in-law. I must just be doing it wrong.

Tonight was one of those nights.

As I listen to the shenanigans going on in the bedroom that I need to go put a stop to. Again. I remember.

I can bathe my children at night if I want to.

I can then also spend then next 2 and a half hours fighting with them to lie down, keep their hands to themselves, be quiet, stay in bed, close their eyes, and generally behave. Tonight I thought I was doing great. They were clean, changed, lying quietly in bed. We turned out the light and I began to read to them. I read over 60 pages of a novel to them. They were silent. Breathing steadily. Angels. Then I got up and left the room. The acrobatics started within minutes. Over an hour later they still aren't really sleeping. In fact, I'm pretty sure I just heard somebody either bounce off the wall or the floor. No tears yet -- it can wait until I finish this post.

Whatever.

Whatever works for your family is great. Mine? We are not bedtime bath takers.

Anyone Need a Nap?

I call this my "Sleeping Tiger" series of portraits:

Every afternoon for a week, N would wander out of the play room having dug this size 2T tiger costume out of the costume trunk. He would ask for a little assistance in getting it on, as it is 2 sizes too small. After wandering around for a while -- perhaps helping make PBJ, perhaps playing the accordion -- he would drop off into a deep sleep that would last for several hours. When I could, I captured some photographic evidence. I may be biased, but I think it's pretty cute.

Bedtime Adventures

Some of you may remember my friend Blanket Boy and how he wreaked havoc on our bedtime routine. Well it seems that Blanket Boy invited a friend to sleep over a few nights ago. I don't know his name, as we haven't been formally introduced. However, I have seen his handiwork:

 

I'm pretty sure his name is Captain Destructor or Demolition Man or something along those lines. That's just judging by what he did to N's bed. Apparently, the good Cap'n was jumping a little bit too exuberantly when -- in the words of a 4-year-old witness -- "the bed went down, down, down."

 In case you can't tell -- that's one of the twins' beds, and the entire side of the frame is split in half.

Needless to say, they aren't sleeping on this bed at the moment.

Amazingly, and unlike Blanket Boy, no one was harmed by Capitan Destruccion. 

Both bed frames have been temporarily relocated to the loft, and the twins' mattresses have been placed on the floor. The boys don't seem to mind.

An unforeseen result of this incident has been this:

There he is. Shorty. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor just like his big brothers.

The night the Captain visited the bedroom, after the twins were safely on the floor and sleeping soundly, the Little Man was still wide awake and shouting in his crib. When I went in to investigate, I found him grunting and shrieking as he attempted to pull his mattress out of the crib all by himself. While standing on it.

"This. Out. On floor. Off. OFF!" he insisted.

I decided to give it a go. The crib is still in the room. Sometimes he sleeps in it. Occasionally because he asks to. Other times it is punishment for raucous behavior. And sometimes he sleeps on the floor with the other big boys.

But when I asked him if he could give up sleeping with the binky -- since he is such a big boy -- he said "no."

"I'm having a party. . .and you're not invited!"

There is a lot of testosterone in this house.

And the males are starting to bond.

The only other female is the cat.

And she really doesn't like me very much.

I guess I should get used to being on my own more when whatever activity says "No Girls Allowed."

But, I have to admit, it was a little odd last Friday night when the hubby came home from work & announced that he was putting into action a plan he had been formulating in his mind for quite some time:

The First Ever -- Boys Only -- Family Room Camp Out

After dinner, all the extra sheets in the house were located, furniture was rearranged, sleeping bags opened up, and a pile of books and movies chosen. Then a fort was constructed that pretty much encompassed the entirety of the family room. I got four kisses "goodnight," and was banished from sight.

I am either a control freak or just very curious, depending upon whom you are asking, so I sat at my upstairs desk eavesdropping working on the computer, and I could clearly hear what was going on. It was pretty cute.

I also sneaked downstairs on several occasions to spy check up on them, without being seen.

W was the first one to crash. He still likes an afternoon nap if he can get one, and he hadn't had one that day. So he didn't even make it beyond the opening credits of the movie. 

The hubby was the second one out. tee hee.

N and L watched most of the movie before giving in. 

Here's what I found right before I turned off the TV for them:

I did a bit more sneaking in the morning, and headed out to grab us all some Dunkin Donuts to celebrate their survival.

When I came back, all 3 kiddos were awake, but Daddy was still zonked. They were all staring at him, as if they could wake him up with the force and not get blamed for it. As soon as they saw me, they asked if they could "please come out."

I thought about saying "no" just to see how long they could be contained.

Instead I fed them sugar.

The Adventures of Blanket Boy

Let me tell you about how I met Blanket Boy.

A few nights ago, I was chatting on the phone with the hubby, who was (once again) out of town on business when I had to drop the phone and run as fast as I could to the boys' room. Why, you ask? (and I know you are dying to know).

I had to answer the call of Blanket Boy.

Or, in terms everyone can understand, one child was screaming at the top of his lungs, clearly injured. Apparently, "as fast as I can" isn't too fast. Both of my parents had managed to come up from downstairs and turn on the kids' light before I was able to make the short trek down the hall.

What we all found there was a ghastly sight. N's entire face & both his arms were covered in blood.

Upon closer inspection, it became evident that he had banged his chin and his nose, resulting in a scrape and a bloody nose. Nothing major. But very, very bloody.

Later that evening, while we were all still recovering from the trauma, he told me he had gotten his injury on the side of W's bed. I asked if they had been jumping. They both assured me that they had not. What, then, were they doing? They calmly and casually informed me that they had been playing Blanket Boy.

That was explanation enough for the moment. They were ready to sleep, and so was I .

The next day I asked them to tell Yaya (my mom) what they had been doing when N had gotten hurt. Once again, the explanation was that they had been playing Blanket Boy. Yaya asked what that meant.

"I will show you," they quipped in unison & disappeared momentarily to find a blanket.

N put the blanket over his head and said (in a voice reminiscent of Bullwinkle), "Look at me! I'm Blanket Boy!"

W proceeded to run at him and hit him full force on the chest with both hands.

N fell to the floor. Hard. And cracked up.

Then they traded roles. W did his best Bullwinkle and said, "Hello! I'm Blanket Boy!" while completely covered. N hit him full force and knocked him down in a giggling heap.

Despite encouragement that Blanket Boy is a bad idea, this morning Shorty was standing up in his crib, blanket draped over his head, shouting, "Blanket Boy! Blanket Boy!"

I'm not sure I want to meet the new neighbors...

 I am positive that's what everyone on the block is thinking after this evening.

The evening started to degenerate when Shorty woke up crabby. This usually means he's still tired & should sleep another hour. There was no convincing him of this today, though. He had pooped. The nap was done.

A cranky Shorty makes for a high-maintenance evening. He wants his brothers' toys. Not that he wants what is officially "theirs" over "his"; he just wants whatever happens to be in their hands at any particular moment.

And he's not good at using words yet.

So, he screams.

If I tell him to use words, he screams "MOMMYYY!" Not sure that's better.

The twins were in rare form tonight, too. Maybe because Daddy is out of town on business (it's very convenient to blame him). Thing 2 had his Bossy Pants on and Thing 1 was going by the alias Whiney McWhinerson.

Needless to say, they did not take kindly to toys being taken from them. Screaming. Arguing. Whining. Even (dare I say it) hitting *gasp, not my children* ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

It all came to a head when, after dinner, a strawberry somehow migrated from the kitchen table to the playroom floor where at least 1 -- possibly 3 -- sets of feet decided to grind it into the carpet. We moved the party to the family room so I could clean...

And the screaming fits started. Three of them. All at the same time.

"That's it. Bedtime." I announced, knowing that they were tired & an early bedtime would be beneficial.

Cue more screaming.

Shorty was somewhat agreeable to being changed and put down. Thing 1 screamed for a while & then, decided to try his hand at listening. He became very sweet, asked for my help getting changed. And when I praised his listening...he requested M&Ms as a reward. Sly.

Thing 2. Oh, he's a stubborn one. Always has been. This is the child who defied everything all the infant books said about "self soothing." It didn't matter how long I let him cry. It didn't matter how many days in a row I "enforced" this "soothing"...he was not to be soothed. I would find him red in the face, little fists clenched, screaming in between gasping breaths. So much for "soothing."

Anyway. He did NOT want to go to bed. He screamed. He cried. He fought me as he made me change him like a baby into his overnight PullUp. He then decided that the best way not to go to bed was to strip down.

So. He was naked on his bed. Screaming:

I DON'T WANT TO BE NAKED. I WANT MY PANTS AND UNDERPANTS. I DON'T WANT TO BE NAKED, MOMMY.

I really hope he can't be heard from the street.

quiet

The 3 little ones are sleeping.

The TV is off.

This apartment has no radio, no CD player, and I forgot my iPod in Colorado.

The dishwasher has finished its cycle.

The washing machine is not washing anything (although it should be).

The hubby is at work.

Even the cat is MIA.



And Mama can breathe..........

45 Minutes

Thing 1 & Thing 2 have (mostly) given up their nap.

Occasionally, they will pass out from sheer exhaustion. And if we are in the car, they are out light lights. But for the most part, "nap time" has become "room time" until the Little One wakes up from his nap.

Now the older 2, when they switched to just 1 nap & up until just recently, would sleep for a good 2-3 hours. Beautiful. Time for Mommy to relax AND get some chores done.

Shorty, though, doesn't think he needs sleep. I put him in his room, have potty break for the twins, get them into their room to play, clean up their lunch, make my own, and sit down to eat. Just in time for him to wake up.

It's throwing off my mommy mojo.

Staycation?

Is it a "staycation" if you have to stay in the spot you were vacationing in? hmm.

On July 4th our holiday began with a 14ish-hour car ride from Our House to the Hometown. The big boys did very well. Mr. Fussy Pants, as the baby is now known, was a fussy pants. For 14ish hours. With nowhere for me to run to.

It is now July 18th and I am not back home. Nor am I going to be tomorrow. With any luck, we will be there Tuesday. Sixteen days after leaving.

We planned a few days to visit friends and acclimate to Granny & Grandad's house before I headed off to the Big Apple for 5 days for a lovely visit with my hubby. Then there were the days with Daddy back here. After that, we scheduled a few more "visiting" and "resting" kind of days before piling back into the car to head West.

What we did NOT plan was an ear infection, and not one - but two - barfing boys with fevers. Oh, and I forgot to mention the 3 nights of NO SLEEP FOR MOMMY that accompanied these unplanned adventures.

Our return trip was delayed one day when Shorty decided that sleeping was not something he could fathom while his ear hurt, no matter the amount of pain killers he was force-fed. It just didn't seem smart to drive after 2 sleepless nights, so postpone we did. Surely a full-night's sleep would help make the trip more enjoyable for all.

Then, as I was deciding where to pack everything, W suddenly had a fever and we were frantically changing sheets and pajamas and cleaning up the "essential" animals for sleeping. Not much later, N was highly upset because he had "made a mess" on the bed by regurgitating part of his dinner.

It was clear that we weren't leaving any time soon.

After our recovery day, we are feeling better, but not great. Mommy still hasn't had anywhere close to a full night's sleep. One more day...surely everyone will be healthy and rested if we just wait one more day.

This is the trip that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend...

is it wrong?

Is it wrong that since my last post the moses basket has become my new best friend?

Not only will Little Britches sleep soundly in it for at least 2 hours twice a day, he is also content to just lie in it for unspecified amounts of time while I:

• do the laundry
• take a shower
• give his brothers a bath
• wash the dishes
• surf the internet
• update my facebook status

I can carry him from one room to another and pile the basket high with all the other things I would normally have to make several rips to get.

It is the perfect "chair" for the Little One, too, since he can be propped up against the edges (he normally throws himself violently to the floor when sitting upright). He is contained if he does decide to no longer sit, so I don't have to fear toys with tiny parts or stray craisins on the floor.

In short, it is the best babysitter I ever bought at Goodwill for under $3 and I highly recommend it. I wonder if it would work on the twins?

**disclaimer, this post was going to be some long and rambling parody of Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn" but I thought better of forcing English teacher humor on the blogosphere. You can thank me later (cookies, for example, would be a great way to thank me)**

swaddle twaddle

twaddle
1. -noun- trivial, feeble, silly, or tedious talk or writing
2. -verb- to talk in a trivial, feebly, or silly manner; prate

Looking for a clever title for this post, I learned a new word. And I love it. Since I participate in it all the time. This post will be no exception.

We've been having a rough go if it lately in the madhouse in terms of naptime and Shorty. Naptime and his big brothers is a story for another post entirely, so we'll stick to the little one. He's my Good Sleeper. He's my Mellow Man. He's my Easy Baby.

But, Houston, we have a problem. He cannot, will not, sleep unswaddled.

I love swaddlers. Not just swaddling with a blanket like they do at a hospital, but really using velcro to turn sleeping babes into burritos.

I used swaddlers on the twins forever. They were so happy to be snug and slept soundly while swaddled. When they got bigger, they started busting out in the middle of the night. they would end up with one or both hands free and manage to put themselves back to sleep without issue. (Or as was the case in this photo, one would use his free limb to beat his brother). The transition from burrito boys to free men was a smooth path for them.

And since it was about the only thing smooth about their infancy, I naively assumed that my Easy Baby would also make a seamless transition at around the same age.

(Do you hear that laughter? That's God -- he really enjoys practical jokes)

The little one is a worm. A flip-flopper. A roly poly.

Within seconds of being placed on the floor, he's squirming everywhere. And, apparently, being bound tightly with fleece and velcro is not enough to stop him. The problem with this is that he ends up face planted in the mattress without his arms free to help him get to a comfortable and safe position, which means no nap or night is filled with sound sleep. He flips over and screams his fool head off until someone comes to the rescue.

Fantastic.

Clearly, we need to make the switch to sleeping unswaddled. Clear to me. Clear to you. Not so clear to Captain Wiggles.

Not only does he not like to FALL asleep unswaddled, he also WAKES UP shortly after said sleep has been accomplished because *gasp* his arm moved.

Needless to say, this has been fun and games for all of us. My Easy Baby has been known as Mr. Cranky Pants around our house lately. Somebody help me! Finally...finally...after a week of crying and wakeful nights, he has managed to go to and stay asleep at night. It's dark. It's quiet. He's got it figured out.

Nap time, however, has been a nightmare. Over an hour to accomplish a fitful sleep state that lasts, on average 30 minutes. This is not acceptable to me.

I did have an epiphany this weekend, though. While refilling the diaper stacker, I saw the much loved but mostly unused for the past 5 months moses basket. Why was it much loved? It was snuggley and he would lie content in it for hours and often sleep.

Stop right there. Back up. Let's look at that again.

"he would lie CONTENT...and often SLEEP" in the basket.

Brilliant! I pulled it out and put it in his crib. Now at nap time, he sleeps unswaddled -- and not rolling over -- in the moses basket.

And there was much rejoicing.

where's waldo?

can you spot the twins in this picture?
i was not invited to this pre-nap fiesta.

projects

one room at a time...

i am trying to get the new house put together & looking more-or-less the way i want it, but being 7-months preggers slows me down a little bit.

my first goal has been to get the boys' room done so i can move them out of the nursery & into a cute new BIG BOY ROOM! that way, i can put the crib back together and (hopefully) have a nursery ready for baby brother when he makes his appearance.

i don't have a "before" photo, as there was nothing really before. just an empty room waiting for us. but here's the "after":
thanks to our friends from church for putting those TWO big boy beds together for me! hooray! see those white bookshelves? i kid you not, i had them in my very own big-girl room about 30 years ago. only they were dark brown then. they were, however, still the same low-quality, particle-board-covered-in-a-layer-of-veneer-so-thin-it-could-be-contact-paper shelving units that they are today (with a fresh coat of paint). a big shout out to my folks for investing in the high-quality stuff that lasts for generations.

i was a bit nervous about how the little dudes would do sleeping in individual beds. we all know how much they love cuddling, after all. but they did great...even fell asleep in separate beds.



however, a peek in on them in the morning revealed that mr. w had apparently gotten a bit lonesome in the middle of the night & decided it was time to join his brother. mr. n didn't seem to mind one bit. even big boys need a little love & togetherness sometimes.

proactiv

just like the anti-zit medicine. only not.

remember back in march when we conducted this little experiment and put the boys in a toddler bed to free up the crib for #3? well, we had been progressing nicely for several months, the boys were learning to climb up on their bed as exhaustion began to set in (therefore passing out in bed rather than all over the place). it looked like the experiment was working wonderfully.

but.

there's always a but, isn't there?

over the past few weeks, playing themselves to sleep began to look more and more like pandemonium and actual sleep time began to move later and later past our theoretical "bedtime." and, of course, morning still came at the same time. so my over-tired little guys have recently turned into cranky little monsters -- no more sweets & joy & joyness around here. (on a side note, i find it ironic that exhaustion in small people tends to lead to less sleep rather than more, thus compounding the problem -- hurrah).

yesterday i had had enough. it was time to get proactiv.

like the zit medicine's mission is to seek out & destroy unsightly acne & to restore a healthy complexion to the teenager, mine was to seek out & destroy pre-sleeping pandemonium & to restore peace & order to the bedtime universe.

i wasn't sure how it was going to happen, but i knew i had to try. i started by firmly placing the boys back in bed every time they crawled out. they had a blast for the first 15-20 minutes, let me tell you. lots of giggles. i held my ground & didn't say a word or even make eye contact. finally, they realized i was serious & stayed in bed. when i left the room, however, it took about 3.5 seconds for them both to land all 4 feet on the floor & take off to find a toy. so in their bedroom i decided to stay. every time a toy was tossed to the floor, it was removed from the room. there were many attempts to flee and even more tears. but, in the end, we achieved sleep...and after only an hour and a half -- about 30 minutes earlier than they had been putting themselves to sleep.

not fantastic results. but not shabby, either, for the first attempt.

move to today's nap. we had our story, our prayer, kisses all around -- the usual. then, i turned to sit on the sofa rather than leave & one boy tried to slide out of bed. i told him "no" (didn't even have to get up) and he climbed back into bed without a fuss. his brother never tried to get up. a few of the same toy issues happened, but in under 30 minutes, both boys were out cold.

so far, so good.

it's more time-consuming for me than i like, but sleep is a wonderful gift from god. not just to the kiddos. moms need the sanity break, too, you know.