And other lessons learned from being at home… That should be the title of a book I write after the kids are grown up. Yesterday, I made my girl some hot cocoa and put in a strawberry marshmellow (or mallow?? neither looks right). She, as per usual, didn’t finish it, and rather than dump it in the sink, where I anticipated that we’d have trouble getting it down the drain, I poured it into the toilet. A while later, Jessie came out of the bathroom all upset – said she couldn’t get the pink marshmellow to go away, she kept flushing and flushing but it kept popping back up to the top of the water ;-). It did eventually go down, but it bobbed in my potty for most of the afternoon.
Kind of a quiet boring day today. It’s so cold and yucky outside, and I’m still kind of groggy from the past couple of nights with Jess. Now that Sam’s sleeping thru the night, Jessie has decided to start getting up again. Are they conspiring against me? Her new nighttime ritual is to wake up around 1:00 or 2:00, come to bed with me, which is fine, I’m a good mom, I love my children… but then she wiggles and moans and twists for an hour or so until finally I tell her that she can either lay still and go to sleep or she has to get out. At which point, she gets up crying, and storms out into the living room or bedroom and cries because “Mommy frew me out of bed for NO REASON.” Eventually Marc gets up (because I flat out refuse to go pacify her) and he yells at her to go to bed. Then she’s crawl back into my bed, chastened and still with that hitching breath, trying to choke back the tears, and snuggle into my back, because at this point, she’s woken up Sam and I’m laying on my side, nursing him back to sleep, and we’ll all eventually go back to sleep. It takes a LONG time, and I’m exhausted.
Sam’s asleep on the bed, and Harrison and Jessie are watching Hi-5. Again. I have the show memorized. And am not happy about it…
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