So my day today, went a little like this:
6:37am-
My husband (who hears NOTHING while he's sleeps) bolts up in bed and frantically says "I hear something ringing, do you hear something ringing?!!!"
I (who wakes up at the blowing of the wind) say "NO".
6:39am (approximately)- Arthur once again sits up like a gunshots gone off by his head and again claims to hear ringing. I listen intently- thoughtfully- and with dilligence... and then I can hear it- the phone ringing 2 floors beneath us. So I think... OH NO SOMEONE IS DEAD. I don't know if Arthur thinks this too- but he runs down stairs like he might beable to save his/her life- if perhaps the verdict of death is undecided... he comes back upstairs... just his mom reminding us that the time has changed. No one has died... it's just 7:39am... and we really needed to know that.
7:40am I try to get back to sleep- excited by the fact that I'd been able to sleep for 7 record-breaking solid hours... but my mind wakes up and refuses to let my body slumber.
Shortly thereafter- Megan awakes. I allow her to play with my brand new package of pantyhose while I get dressed. I'm on top of things. Arthur has left for some early morning meetings and I am going to ready my flock for spiritual feeding all on my own and it's going to be calm and good... and it is... up until about 45 minutes before I have to leave... and I can't find my pantyhose. I get down on all 4s like some people do to "child-proof" their house... I see problems, but I do not see pantyhose. She's one- how good can she be at hide-n-seek? Mighty good. In the nick of time I discover my pantyhose one floor down, under the kitchen table... I don't know how they got there... but they did.
So this isn't too dramatic. I arrive at church late. Not too dramatic. Church is good... then Andreas & Sarah (my sibs-in-law) invite us over for supper. I say a big YES. I am happy not to cook. I am happy to relax (ha ha ha) in somebody else's home. We arrive... we talk, we jest, we are having a generally good time... and then Andreaa starts yelling at Jane. He "can't believe [she] put that in her mouth"... oh no. Has she broken something? For some reason my mind wanders to the fish tank and for a moment I envision something sticky and wrong plastered to her tongue. No. I am wrong. She's bitten off the end of a glow-stick and bright yellowy flourescence is coming from her mouth. Andreas' running to the bathroom with 3 year old under arm. Arthur is going for back-up. I request a phone book. Every woman in the room knows why. I mention how I wonder how many calls it takes to poison control before they send social services out to pick-up your children. One of my sisters-in-law offers that they probably don't know who I am. I come back with an - oh but they do- they get my phone number and my name (and I'm sure by now they're starting to recognize my voice). I call- they ask "what number are you calling from" - I breathe a sigh of relief- they don't know it's me... I get at least one more shot- I give them Sarah''s phone number. The lady tells me to get Janet to drink water. I don't realize this is the "start" of the instructions- so I thank her and ask her if that's all? She says "no, no" and asks some questions, gives me the play-by-play of what to do. I feel a little like I'm on the phone with the 911 operator... except everyone is mostly fine... just one little someone's tongue is glowing. Long story short- don't eat glow sticks- you'll be fine but your tounge will hurt.
So we have our accident for the day or so I think. Megan gets her fingers jammed, quite by accident, 2 times in closet doors. We eat supper. Megan starts doing this weird limp thing... Faye, Arthur, and Caley conclude something is "wrong" with her foot. I think of Jane's IWK/ limp trip and don't wish to repeat it... just walk normal would you PLEASE kid? So she doesn't. I take her socks off- still gimpy, rub her feet- little tipsy still, roll up her pant-legs... and we're back in the game. Tragedy averted.
I'm getting pretty tiered. We need to go. Curious George and company are active, I'm fatigued by it all. I put Jane's coat on. Done. "Where's Megan?" I say... not in the livingroom (where she'd been when I started the 1 minute process of putting Jane's coat on), not by the table, not in the kitchen, not in the hall. It's a one bedroom apartment- all we have left is a bedroom, some closets.... and the BATHROOM.... door is open! And there is the one year old playing splashes in the toilet bowl... having just thrown her socks in.
Andreas bravely gets the socks; Arthur washes Megan's hands. We flee.
At home I simply wish to sleep... but there is the process of getting to bed. I trip over the fish tank that I (completely my own fault) had placed in the hallway to take downstairs but had forgotten about... it leaves moments later. Jane hurts herself before bed- takes her pjs off to show me all her war wounds from her battle with the bed/ bedside table. I get the PJS back on. She removes them again to show her daddy the same... this time pointing out some bruises from some minor incident that probably happened last week.
My husband feels that he should help me get the kids to bed. He is right. I am thankful, and I am tiered. I need my sleep to prepare for another ordinary day tommorow.
6:37am-
My husband (who hears NOTHING while he's sleeps) bolts up in bed and frantically says "I hear something ringing, do you hear something ringing?!!!"
I (who wakes up at the blowing of the wind) say "NO".
6:39am (approximately)- Arthur once again sits up like a gunshots gone off by his head and again claims to hear ringing. I listen intently- thoughtfully- and with dilligence... and then I can hear it- the phone ringing 2 floors beneath us. So I think... OH NO SOMEONE IS DEAD. I don't know if Arthur thinks this too- but he runs down stairs like he might beable to save his/her life- if perhaps the verdict of death is undecided... he comes back upstairs... just his mom reminding us that the time has changed. No one has died... it's just 7:39am... and we really needed to know that.
7:40am I try to get back to sleep- excited by the fact that I'd been able to sleep for 7 record-breaking solid hours... but my mind wakes up and refuses to let my body slumber.
Shortly thereafter- Megan awakes. I allow her to play with my brand new package of pantyhose while I get dressed. I'm on top of things. Arthur has left for some early morning meetings and I am going to ready my flock for spiritual feeding all on my own and it's going to be calm and good... and it is... up until about 45 minutes before I have to leave... and I can't find my pantyhose. I get down on all 4s like some people do to "child-proof" their house... I see problems, but I do not see pantyhose. She's one- how good can she be at hide-n-seek? Mighty good. In the nick of time I discover my pantyhose one floor down, under the kitchen table... I don't know how they got there... but they did.
So this isn't too dramatic. I arrive at church late. Not too dramatic. Church is good... then Andreas & Sarah (my sibs-in-law) invite us over for supper. I say a big YES. I am happy not to cook. I am happy to relax (ha ha ha) in somebody else's home. We arrive... we talk, we jest, we are having a generally good time... and then Andreaa starts yelling at Jane. He "can't believe [she] put that in her mouth"... oh no. Has she broken something? For some reason my mind wanders to the fish tank and for a moment I envision something sticky and wrong plastered to her tongue. No. I am wrong. She's bitten off the end of a glow-stick and bright yellowy flourescence is coming from her mouth. Andreas' running to the bathroom with 3 year old under arm. Arthur is going for back-up. I request a phone book. Every woman in the room knows why. I mention how I wonder how many calls it takes to poison control before they send social services out to pick-up your children. One of my sisters-in-law offers that they probably don't know who I am. I come back with an - oh but they do- they get my phone number and my name (and I'm sure by now they're starting to recognize my voice). I call- they ask "what number are you calling from" - I breathe a sigh of relief- they don't know it's me... I get at least one more shot- I give them Sarah''s phone number. The lady tells me to get Janet to drink water. I don't realize this is the "start" of the instructions- so I thank her and ask her if that's all? She says "no, no" and asks some questions, gives me the play-by-play of what to do. I feel a little like I'm on the phone with the 911 operator... except everyone is mostly fine... just one little someone's tongue is glowing. Long story short- don't eat glow sticks- you'll be fine but your tounge will hurt.
So we have our accident for the day or so I think. Megan gets her fingers jammed, quite by accident, 2 times in closet doors. We eat supper. Megan starts doing this weird limp thing... Faye, Arthur, and Caley conclude something is "wrong" with her foot. I think of Jane's IWK/ limp trip and don't wish to repeat it... just walk normal would you PLEASE kid? So she doesn't. I take her socks off- still gimpy, rub her feet- little tipsy still, roll up her pant-legs... and we're back in the game. Tragedy averted.
I'm getting pretty tiered. We need to go. Curious George and company are active, I'm fatigued by it all. I put Jane's coat on. Done. "Where's Megan?" I say... not in the livingroom (where she'd been when I started the 1 minute process of putting Jane's coat on), not by the table, not in the kitchen, not in the hall. It's a one bedroom apartment- all we have left is a bedroom, some closets.... and the BATHROOM.... door is open! And there is the one year old playing splashes in the toilet bowl... having just thrown her socks in.
Andreas bravely gets the socks; Arthur washes Megan's hands. We flee.
At home I simply wish to sleep... but there is the process of getting to bed. I trip over the fish tank that I (completely my own fault) had placed in the hallway to take downstairs but had forgotten about... it leaves moments later. Jane hurts herself before bed- takes her pjs off to show me all her war wounds from her battle with the bed/ bedside table. I get the PJS back on. She removes them again to show her daddy the same... this time pointing out some bruises from some minor incident that probably happened last week.
My husband feels that he should help me get the kids to bed. He is right. I am thankful, and I am tiered. I need my sleep to prepare for another ordinary day tommorow.
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