Waffles.

Bleary eyed after tossing and turning

for close to 2 hours,

Dec walked up to me last night and said he was having

trouble falling asleep but he knew just what he needed

to fix the problem.

"Just a couple of waffles and a few pancakes and then

I'm sure I'll go right back to sleep..."

It was close to 10:00 PM.

I did not make waffles or pancakes.

But he did, eventually, fall asleep.

First he made up a fake illness that had to do with a pain in his

right leg, one wiggly tooth, and a "bending in the wrong direction"

little toe.

Then he decided to mop the entire length of the upstairs hallway with his

pajamas (while wearing them).

He flopped around at the top of the staircase like a dying fish.

After a solid 30 minutes, he waltzed into bed.

Dreaming of....dare I guess? Waffles and pancakes...

Good to Each Other. When I'm Gone.

Sometimes I wonder if my children will be good to each other when I'm gone.

You know, when I'm not here to keep the peace?

Because sometimes a peacemaker is necessary.

Actually, a peacemaker was needed about 2 dozen times today. But who's counting?


Tonight and twice, I was reassured that they will be. (Good to each other when I'm gone.)

The first time I re-tucked Nonie into bed I made her cozy in a sea of flannel bedding with skiers on it. I kissed her forehead, complemented the ornament she hung on the tiny Xmas tree in their room and told her I loved her. Twice.

"Mommy kiss Dety", she ordered before I tiptoed out of the room.

So I did. For a second time this evening, I found his smooth forehead tucked in to his bed - asleep for a good 15 minutes already. And I kissed it - nice and loud so that Ms. Bossy would know I obeyed her.

******

But the second time she needed to be re-tucked in (do the math, this is her third time being kissed goodnight - darn those late-day naps) - I found each of her sleeping pals, tucked them in cozy under the hand-knit blankets and smooched her on her forehead.

We rubbed noses for a while and I tried to find her big blue eyes in the glow of their Xmas tree lights but I couldn't.

So I giggled. And got up to leave.

Halfway to the door I heard it again.

"Mommy kiss Dety", she reminded.

So I went to Decky's bed, found his smooth forehead and smooched it again.

******

There is a bond between my children that I get glimpses of but do not fully comprehend.
I guess that's to be expected, because the bond hasn't fully established itself.

Many days, all I hope for is that my children will be good to each other when I'm gone.

And tonight. And Twice. I was given a glimmer of how it will be.

And it looked comforting and good. And full of love.

Naptime.

One by one Nonie strolled the grounds collecting each scarecrow.
She brought them to the front garden for a nap.

And when she was done tucking them in amongst the leaves and weeds, she seemed so content with her two-year-old-mother-hen-self.

Stratton Blue

As soon as I my head hits the pillow I am out.
Sleep comes easy after a long day.
And as I drift off I could imagine that I am sailing through the sea, rocking off to a peaceful night's sleep.
Surrounded by an ocean of blue.

Or I could be up in the sky, on a cloud of whiteness (only white sheets and blankets on my bed). Blue skies and puffy bed, it is surely a good way to go into lala land.


But I hate flying. I really do not like being up in the air. I panic. I have taken drugs to get from here to there without freaking out. For me pretending to fly is about as relaxing as listening to a soundtrack of nails on chalkboards or baby cries.

And boats, well they bring on panic too. Especially the little ones. The loss of control, the role of mother nature, the fear of not seeing land....well pass the brown bag and bring on the Xanax.


But my blue walls bring peaceful nights and happy thoughts for different reasons.


I purposely chose Benjamin Moore Stratton Blue from the Historical Collection for the name.
And every time I look at the walls I can't help but remember the day we painted the room.
Being 6 months pregnant I was given a by.
And Bri and I had to get to Sears to pick out a new fridge for the pad.

So we left the task of painting our bedroom to mom and dad.
I don't think dad has ever painted a room in his own house.
But with his work clothes on he got to business and relayed the story of his summer painting houses.
And when I Bri and I returned our room was blue.

And as I lie in bed I see their work. Their beautifully painted blue room that brings me peace, and happiness and comfort.
Despite its imperfections. I know I am home. And it makes me happy.

Mine.

Last night Nonie repeatedly touched my neck and laughed when her finger stuck to it.

Touch.
Stick.
Laugh.

Touch. Stick. Laugh.

It was kinda funny in an "I-need-something-to-laugh-at-in-the-middle-of-this-heat-wave" kind of way.

To distract us both, I began singing "This Little Light of Mine".

Oh, this little light of mine I'm going to let it shine Hallelujah This little light of mine I'm going to let it shine Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine....


For some reason, this is my "Go To" song right now. It is the one that pops into my head when the going gets....(in this case) (unbearably) HOT.

Why couldn't I have:

Kept it simple with: Twinkle Twinkle?

or

Kept it real with: Sidewalks of New York?

Anyway, she was enjoying my version of This Little Light and quite frankly, so was I.

I was harmonizing with myself. It was awesome.

(Cue The Eye Roll from the Sisters Now)

****

For all who just spent a sun-packed, fun-packed 4th of July weekend on the Vineyard with the "three babies" - you know that they all became well-versed in the word: "Mine". Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine.

****

So, should it be any surprise that Nonie replaced each "Shine" word in the song I sung to her, with the word "Mine"? By the end of the 3rd verse (her version of) the song went something like:

This little light of mine I'm going to let it mine Oh, this little light of mine I'm going to let it mine Hallelujah This little light of mine I'm going to let it mine.

Let it mine, let it mine, let it mine.

And with sweet sweat dripping down my brow, it was okay. I let her have it. She owned that song.

And she owns her light. That little light is hers.

The sparkle that comes out of her innermost soul when she realizes how sticky we both are. Touch. Stick. Laugh.

That little light of hers.

All hers.

And I stopped singing and breathed deeply.

Listening to her chorus of "mines".

I knew this was all I could do to not block her little light of hers....or stick to it.

Sleep Nonie Sleep.

Sweet Nonie has graduated from crib to bed. 1/2 a bed actually, but more on that later.

Ever since the bed migration (3 nights ago), I've had the distinct honor of lying with her until she falls asleep. A bad habit, I'm the first to admit it. But given that Sweet Nonie no longer drinks from the yellow bottle that was an extension of her right hand for 8 months straight - I'm betting we'll be able to nip this habit too.

Tossing and turning doesn't really come close to describing what Nonie does before falling asleep. I'm amazed and intrigued.

I thought I knew her. But now I'm not so sure.

She thrashes about. Blanket surfing. Kicks my chin. Bangs her head on the bed.

Over and over and over.

But always, when in need of a break from the antics, she'll find me.

In the dark she'll give my inner arm a quick swipe. Or she'll swing her head close to mine and breathe milk breath into my face. Sometimes, once she's made contact she'll let out a squeal. Her actions are fleeting and make me realize how primitive humans are. She's comforted by the closeness and senses when I've moved a mere inches away. Mother monkey.

Tonight, despite how cute she was - I contemplated giving up. Could she be nocturnal? I wondered.

But then she found her nose. And her nose seemed to calm her (picking it). Suddenly, she's occupied - pinching into her nose with her thumb. She gets into a routine. Pick. Roll around. Pick. Roll around. Pick. Pick. Roll all around. Pick.

Pick pick pick.

Then in an instant she's doing this...

...and I have wet boogers on my cheek.

EYEpad 3G 4.0

The next generation is here.



It's the EYEpad and it comes in green.

Note its versatility as its user lounges amidst a sea of potential packing items.

Notice the freedom with which she breathes at night, or can you only just imagine it?

The EYEpad is hot. Or it should be. Because when it is cold it makes it hard to sleep.
But when it is hot it really clears up the nasal passages.

Admire the baba. My, how it has outlasted the rest of its generation. For the other things that are 26 on that bed are looking rather rough around the edges.

It's the hottest in sleeping fashion.

if only i had known....

if only i had known what to do, but it's not in the books, or the blogs, or the forums.

for two nights we have been up crying, playing, screaming, crying some more, the ear infection has been a nightmare for all parties involved.

finally after watching freestyle skiing for an hour at 3 am, he found the place he wanted to be.

a place i never would have placed him in a million years.

he flipped and he flopped and squirmed his way out of my arms, down to my feet, where he nuzzled himself into the crook of my foot. where he finally strung together 3 hours of sleep.

if only i had known thats where he wanted to be... i would have made it happen earlier