Just Another Day (Part 2)

Read about the beginning of our day here. 

 

While Ainsley sat at the table contemplating food and life, Durham decided to make himself comfy on the couch.  Our routine is to grab our pillows and buddies and watch a movie after lunch.  He hopped right up by his pillow clutching a few of his favorite buddies and was asleep before I could press play. 

 

Oh, my sweet boy. 

One down, two to go.  My daily goal is simultaneous family naptime.  Ainsley is getting to an age where she doesn't quite need a nap, but the rule is that everyone has to lay down during the movie. 
 
She complies, but is incapable of complying quietly. 
 
"Who cut Mary's tummy open in the barn when Jesus was born?
But I want to poke at my belly button.
Barbie and Ken like to kiss.
Can I give Wrenn her bottle?
Can I burp her?
Can I hold her?
Nixon's name is Doody.  I will call him Doody."
 
I am one strong gust away from utter collapse.

I try to dodge some questions and answer others, but I find myself starting to ignore her.  I feel bad about it, but she never stops talking.  I'm just so tired.  I decided to get myself comfy as well in the hopes that Wrenn will fall asleep.  Blankets, pillows, and a sweet, little baby. 


Success!

 

Just look at the light until you fall asleep. 

Ainsley eventually stops talking and falls asleep.  Now Wrenn and I are the only ones awake.  And watching Cars 2.  Instead of falling asleep, Wrenn and I have a good conversation about her future.  We spend quite a bit of time just looking at each other. 

 

By the time Wrenn is asleep, Durham has woken up.  I'm bummed that I won't be able to sleep, but happy that Durham has woken up in a good mood.  You never know with 2 year olds.  They may wake up sweet as can be or possessed by the devil.  

 

Today was complete sweetness.  Wrenn was laying contentedly in her bouncer, so I spent some time snuggling with my boy.  Today he ripped off both of his socks and shoved his smelly feel in my face yelling, "MARKET!"

 

"This little piggy went to market.  This little piggy stayed home.  This little piggy had roast beef.  This little piggy had none.  This little piggy went wee, wee, wee all the way home."

 

Ainsley can unconsciously tell that fun is being had without her and wakes up to shove her much larger and stinkier foot in my face as well. 

 

"Me, TOO!"

 

We have many rounds of piggies going to market and teddy bears rounding garden gates.  It was sweet and wonderful.  Sweet and wonderful the first 56 times.  After that it just starts to get old and annoying. 

 



This one had roast beef. 

I kept reminding myself that no one was crying.  For the time being, Wrenn was asleep in a dry diaper.  Durham kept trying to say the whole thing by himself and screwing up.  Ainsley volunteered to keep tickling Durham for me. 

 

I sat there and watched my kids having fun with each other. 

 

"Piggy, market, beef, one step TICKLE UNDER THERE!"

 

I was having a momentary feeling of Mama-rockstarhood, so I offered to take all three of them outside to play.  I should probably do more outdoor playtime, but

A)  I don't like temperatures below 60 or above 75.  That leaves quite a small window of outdoor opportunity. 

B)  I always seem to have a 2 year old.  Guess what 2 year olds are amazing at?  Running into traffic.  Laughing the whole way as they RUN INTO TRAFFIC. 

 

I took Ainsley outside much more.  That was back then I only had one child to rescue from death.  Now I have way too many kids that could potentially be smooshed to bits. 

 

I suppose I could just trap them in the backyard, but that leaves me with a baby problem.  Strollers don't stroll well on our bumpy backyard.  And bikes don't bike well in the backyard. 

 

I decide to just throw caution to the wind and head outside. 

 

Guess what that means?  Diaper changes, coats, hats, diaper bags.  [Yes, I pack a diaper bag just to play in our own yard.]  45 minutes later we are READY TO GO...

 

...into the garage.  With the garage door down.  I get a chance to give Ainsley and Durham a speech about staying near Mama and away from the road.  Durham doesn't understand a word of it.  The boy is an outdoor deathtrap. 

 



We start with strapping down the two most vulnerable and heading down the sidewalk. 

 

Perfectly enjoyable, right?



 Looks perfectly lovable here.

We make it around the block once.  Halfway through, Ainsley got tired and we all had to take a break.  Our new dilemma concerning walks is what to do with the third child.  For now I let Ainsley ride a little bike ahead of the rest of us with the double stroller.  Durham spends most of the walk wiggling and trying to get out of his seat. 
 
We quickly head back to the house to get Durham his own bike.  The only place to bike is the driveway.  Which is not fenced in and connected to THE ROAD. 
 
Ok, I can corral my son to keep him in the driveway.  I can do this. 
 

Fortunately he's not very good at biking yet so he doesn't move fast. 
As long as he's on the bike, that is. 

 Things go surprisingly well.  Durham switches from one bike to another.  I mediate problems concerning who is riding the more desirable bike.  I even have time to snap a few pictures with my real camera and not just my phone. 
 
 ROCK STAR MAMA. 

 

Just cruising the driveway. 

 

Doing a little coloring while she waits for the more desirable bike. 

 

And once again, babies without colic are just amazing. 

 
At that point, things deteriorated rapidly.  I believe it went like this:
Ainsley:  I see a flower!  [runs off towards the neighbor's house]
Durham:  Flower?  [falls clumsily off the bike and runs after Ainsley]
Mama:  Let's all stay in our yard, please!  [Hopes kids listen]
Ainsley:  [Thinks Durham has begun to play tag.  Runs past flower and towards the road]
Durham:  [Chases Ainsley towards the road, in utter glee.]
 
I don't even know how people with such small legs can get SO FAR SO FAST.  But they do.  And my heart stops. 
 
Thirty seconds later, Mama is out of breath, Ainsley is grumpily walking back to the house, and Durham is thrown over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 
 
A sack of potatoes that is screaming, kicking, and fighting like a ninja 
 

Let's just play in the garage then.  No one gets run over by a car in the garage, right?

We play in the garage for about 15 minutes until Ainsley convinces me she can be a good listener.  I give in to her and we head back outside. 
 
This time we head to the backyard.  Fences are my friend. 
 

Happy, little family. 

We play in the backyard for a little bit before Wrenn wakes up and is hungry.  I hadn't yet devised an exit strategy for Durham.  I was going to have to shoot from the hip.
 
"Durham want to go inside for a drink?
Who wants to watch Race Car movie?
Let's go inside and play Monster?"
 
Nothing works.  Looks like I'm going to have to go with sack of potatoes again.  I manage to carry Durham over my shoulder and Wrenn in with the other arm.  Both are screaming their heads off. 
 
"Wasn't going outside so much fun?  Aren't we all glad we got some fresh air?"
 
Durham won't have any of my cheeriness.   Neither will Wrenn.  Ainsley decides to join in...
 
"Can I have something crunchy?  Something called candy?
What are we eating for supper?
I don't want veggies WITH my noodles!"
 
A few more minutes of chaos and we're all in the house.  Guess what I do?  Time for another set of diaper changing and bottle making.  While I'm giving Wrenn her bottle, things get quiet.  Quiet in my house can only mean one of two things:
 
1)  The quiet person in question is pooping.
2)  Mischief is being made and secrets are being kept. 
 
Sometimes it's both at the same time.  Imagine a bathroom pooping/water bottle incident. 
 
This time it's pretty benign.  Just a de-pantsing. 
 

Um...huh.

 
It is soon time for supper.  And another mealtime "incident." Durham ate his chicken and rice without a sideways glance. 
 

Ainsley sat at the table for 30 minutes by herself before she finally tried a bite.  With her eyes covered. 

 
What comes after dinner?  Baths, of course.  This particular night was special because it was the first time in over a year in which Durham readily agreed to sit on the potty while the bath water was being drawn.  He's not potty-training yet, but our routine is to have he and Ainsley sit on their own potties before bath just so he's used to the concept of what a potty is. 

There was much celebration. 

Then the two of them pile into the tub. 

The conversation goes like this: 
Don't touch your brother.  Just leave him alone. 
He's got the good poofie!
Durham fire truck?  Wee-ooo.  Wee-ooo.
There's water in my eyes!  [Crying]
There's always water in your eyes.  I think you'll live.  
All done!  [Tries to run away while in the tub, falls, cries]
Alright, that is IT! 

And then Durham peed in the water and she scampered out as well. 

 Guess what it was time for?  Diapers and another bottle.  And laundry and dishes.  How glamorous is my life on a scale of one to ten? 

I'm not proud of how much TV they watch.  It's a maternity leave necessity though. 

The kids are sweet and docile as they watch Bubble Guppies.  Docile is another one of my motherly goals right?  No? 

If you answered no, then you must not have toddlers.  Or laundry. 

By the time we've reached 8pm it's time for tooth-brushing and book reading.  Ainsley loves to pick the baby books.  We tell her no and send her back to find big girl books. 

Tears.

Durham's favorites are Little Blue Truck, The Foot Book, and Go Dog, Go!  Ainsley has a different favorite every night, but gravitates toward anything pink or princess.  Before the baby was born, Tim and I would split the kids up and read something that was age-appropriate for that particular child.  No such luxury anymore. 

Reading together now. 

 
It doesn't always work out well, reading together.  Durham has a much shorter attention span than Ainsley, so he often ends up getting off the bed to wander around the dark house. 

When reading time is done, both kids are shuffled to their beds for prayers. 

"Now the light has gone away,
Father listen while I pray.
Asking thee to watch and keep,
and to send me quiet sleep.
Thank you God for..."

Ainsley decides to thank God for curtains, the fan, her dream light, and her mom. 

Durham decides to thank God for curtains as well.  He's quite a little follower.  I don't even think he knows what curtains are, but he has thanked God for them. 

I settle in with Wrenn and another bottle in the chair in her room and thank God for my little brood of active, sassy, loud, willful kiddies.  They are healthy and vibrant and independent.

Thank you, God. 

I am blessed beyond measure.