On Tuesday night, I went to bed at 11, which was a bad idea, but everything was a little later with the kids' bedtime, and Ben and I do like to unwind with some wine and conversation most nights, so 11 it was. And I had maybe a bit too much wine (trying to build up my tolerance for a super fun Napa trip on the horizon).
At 11:53, Cooper, a wonderful sleeper who is usually quiet for a solid 11-13 hours, jolted me out a sound sleep screaming "MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA." I ran to his room only to have him shriek "MAMA NO PAPIPOPPAH" (pacifier). I blinked a few times and then found one in his night stand (because what else would a 2 year-old keep in his night stand but a supply of extra papipoppahs?).
And then Dorothy started screaming. She sometimes wakes at 11:45, and I promptly roll over and ignore her because no. Just no. Not happening. I am fine with her waking up between 3 and 5 and wanting to snuggle until 6:30 or 7, but anything else? NO.
Tuesday night, though, she would not stop screaming. I brought her a sippy cup of milk because holy cats I did not want to bring her to bed that early. She looked at me incredulously and then screamed with rage. I told her it was night night and went back to bed.
Eventually, though, I realized she was not actually going back to sleep, so I brought her in bed. She started nursing, and I closed my eyes. But I noticed she wasn't really eating, and every time I opened my eyes, she just started accusingly at me.
This went on until 4-ish (we both slept from like 2:30-4) when I put her back in her own bed. She protested a little, but I could tell she didn't really mean it, and she was out in seconds. So was I thank goodness, at about 4:20.
At the crack of 6:03, Cooper stomped into the room and slapped me on the arm. "Hi Mama," he chirped. "Mama?" he repeated until I grunted "What?" "Mama," he said urgently, "Dorothy waa-waa." OF COURSE SHE WAS CRYING. Blergh.
All 3 of us were tired and cranky all day, but luckily the babies are easy to trick. At 10:20, I turned on Daniels Tiger, the universal sign that it is lunch time and made them some food. They were both sleeping by 11. Which was fortunate because we had to go to Harry and Jack's spring music program.
Ben got there 30 minutes early to save seats, and we STILL HAD SHITTY SEATS. What the hell do people DO that they can get everywhere 50 minutes early to save seats and spots in the carpool lane??
Dorothy's outfit was epically awesome today, but she ran away so much I could only get this one picture of her running away:
I said, "Oh, yeah, he's not quiet right now because he's saying hello to me, and I am his mom."
"Oh," she said. "That's okay."
"Yes," I told her, looking her directly in the eye. "It is okay if my son talks to me whenever he wants to." And I stood there staring at her until she walked around to another row of kids. Harry said she always sounds mad like that when she talks to him. AWESOME. (that was a sarcastic awesome, BTW)