Yesterday I was trapped in the closet.
I should have known then that it would be a...
We had the usual ups and downs of the day. Time outs, rewards, laughter, lots of tears, and all the comfortableness that children, friendship and love can afford.
Earlier in the day, I put the kids down for their naps, and began to straighten things up. I needed to get my keys out of the room Faye was sleeping in. I opened the door, tiptoed in, and immediately she began to stir. I rushed into the closet to hide. If Faye clapped eyes on me, all sleep would be gone, and she would want to get up and be grumpy for the rest of the day. I was not ready for that to happen.
Have you ever been trapped in a closet before? That is where time slows to the crawl of a rock. Because rocks do crawl, just infinitely slow. I know it is cliche, but every second seemed an hour. That particular closet is also a scientific anomaly. Like a black hole, it sucks in time, and never lets it escape or continue onward. I was bordering on insanity due to solitary confinement by the time she went back to sleep thirty seconds later. Finaly I could break free the time suction and escape.
Two hours later (our time, not black hole closet time) the children awoke.
Again, there were tears
and more tears.
The kids all went down for the night on time, setting things up for a wonderful evening between my Heidi (my neice) and me. She is watching the kids across the street, so after the kids are asleep at night, we set up the baby monitors, and play.
Last night, we watched 80's music videos until the wee hours of the morning. And then talked even later. Until my nephew Bridger began to cry. Which is not usual for him. I ran upstairs to comfort him and find out what was wrong...
...and stepped in a pile of slimy goo.
"What on earth is that?" The confusion and disgust were thinly veiled in my voice.
And Hunter sat up.
"I threw up." he said as if he were announcing the color of his walls. Very matter of factly.
I figuratively donned my detective hat, cloak, and pipe, and set about to discover the cause of his tummy problems.
I was successful.
He ate too much. At dinner he asked for seconds, and I obliged. He asked for more, and I warmed him about an upset tummy. I went upstairs to help the girls get a bath ready, and evidently while I was gone, Hunter wanted to find out exactly how big his stomach could stretch, and ate as much as he could possibly pack in. Silly boy.
So, Heidi, being the saint she is, cleaned up the mess with vinegar to expel the smell.
Hunter went back to sleep, and Bridger climbed out of bed insisting "not night night!"
I showed him the sky. It was still dark. I rocked him. I sang to him. I put him in bed with me, begging for sleep.
An hour and a half later, after I was black and blue from the wiggling and kicking, I convinced Bridger he was Hunter's body guard and needed to sleep in his own room so as to protect his big brother. He happily went back to bed...
... only to wake up an hour and a half later.
And again wake up everyone in the house. Which he takes great delight in.
And so my day began.
To Be Continued...