So last night was probably the worst night in a month or so....it started out alrite, but by bedtime, I knew I was in trouble...grab a cup of coffee, a hanky, some laughing gas and hold on....
My husband is out of town.
I don't handle his work trips. I always have this amazing image of me standing there, toddler at my leg, baby on my hip, with my superwoman cape on as I wave goodbye to the hubs. I turn around and walk back into the house and with the snap of a finger, my entire house is cleaned, dinner is simmering on the stove, and the children are blissfully working on homework or playing dutifully outside and smiling with that June Cleaver, Leave it to Beaver, smile....
Than reality hits.
I realize (that's the reality part), that he's gone for a super extended amount of time, there's nothing planned for dinner, the house is a train wreck (believe me, when there is an unflushed bowel movement in the toilet, I can assure you, it's a train wreck....), and my sanity, (which was never really there to begin with) left in that big ole work suburban the hubs drove off in....
For the week up to his departure, I began to experience what I like to call, mini heart attacks. In all actuality, they are these very annoying panic attacks that feel like heart attacks. It's a pain, right in the center of my chest towards the top, that comes as quickly as it leaves but unfortunately, makes my panic even WORSE because I'm convinced it's my heart. I'll even have heart palpitations because I'm so worried it's a heart attack. (yes.....I know....my husband is up for sainthood....)
So he left. I turned back and walked into my train wreck of a house and sat down and had the first of several pity parties in my head....
We managed to get through dinner (bowls of cereal, sandwiches, and whatever else we could find...)and got to the time I dread the most....
Bedtime.
Why is bedtime such a nightmare for me? I will enlighten you....
I have seven children.
Oh wait, that's a lie. Well, not the seven children part. It's a lie for me to say bedtime is a nightmare because I HAVE seven children. Bedtime has always been a nightmare, since the introduction of children in our home....
For some reason, bedtime in my house becomes something that more resembles the aftershock of a war. There are wet towels, naked bodies, dirty clothes, and crying babies for a good part of an hour and that's just with the youngest two. Dealing with the older five is ten times worse because one would think they would KNOW better than to leave wet towels and dirty clothes lying all over the place, but oddly, they don't! So once I finish telling my children in the kindest mom voice I can find to clean up.....(Ok, that might be stretching the truth a bit) I am exhausted and it's only EIGHT O'CLOCK!
So we gather in my room for prayer time. I need this more than they do. I need them to see that despite my insanity, which somewhat probably just resembles everyday me, we still stick to the routine....
Oddly, all of my children prayed for me to remain calm while dad is away....I am grateful for their prayers, but feel awful all in the same breath. Nothing like the mouths of babes to reveal the ugly truth about ya.
Finally the most difficult moment in all the night (or so I thought) begins. Putting the toddler to bed.
I should have known a month ago when we put her in her big girl bed so the baby could have the crib that it was too good to be true. She was amazing and adapted to her bed instantly. I should have known better!!!! What makes it worse, is that the toddler, number six in the food chain, is about the most stubborn, independent, you can't make me do ANYTHING unless I want to, unreasonable child we've ever had. (as I'm typing this, she is bringing me a bag of Pirate's Booty for me to open and let her eat, because, well, she's hungry and found a chair to push, climb up on, and get a snack.....)
She has developed this lovely habit of climbing into the top bunk to sleep with her 6 year old sister. Which is adorable, but all those baby police out there have already taken the CPS speed dial on their phone and pressed it. Cause we all know that the top bunk specifically says something to the tune of, "The top bunk is not appropriate for anyone under the age of 5." Or something like that. In my book it actually says, "once a child has mastered the art of being able to climb up to the top bunk successfully when there ISN'T EVEN A LADDER, than all bets are off for an 'appropriate' age."
So I finally concede and let her fall asleep with the six year old. I figured snapping my back in half trying to get her down into her bed was a far easier battle than wrangling her while awake. Some nights, we must pick and choose our battles....
Once I settled the older ones into their rooms, I shut down the house and went to bed myself.
Here's where the night terrors began.
I hate sleeping alone. I hate sleeping in a big ole house alone. And yes, there are seven other bodies in this house sleeping with me, while I don't sleep, but it's not the same as another adult in the house with me. I.AM.A.BABY.
I hate the dark night, with all it's freaky noises, and all the sounds I am CONVINCED are actual people breaking into my house.
Last night, at one point, I was CERTAIN there was someone standing outside my door. (now, this isn't always entirely impossible, because there ARE seven children in my home, six of which, can actually get out of bed and stand outside my door....)
But there was a gunman outside my door, with a giant, silent machine gun waiting to blow me to smitherenes...... Ok, I also must admit, I am the FIRST to say I have quite the imagination. Well, the second really, because the problem is, I admit these stories to people, i.e. my husband and he is convinced my brain is wacky....perhaps....
So I laid there for the better part of an hour, in sheer terror. I also heard someone walking outside trying to get into my house AND I heard someone messing with our compost bin.
(I am really laying out my rawness here, people. You have no idea...)
So, apparently I eventually passed out. Probably out of sheer terror. Thankfully, tho, this time, I didn't fall asleep with my neck or head bent in a awkward position because of my fear because that really stinks when you wake from that position to discover you have scored the greatest crick in your neck possible.....
At 12:30 am tho, the baby started her nightly ritual of waking for a quick drink. The only problem is, the ritual lasts about an hour to an hour and a half and involves her occasionally crying, slamming her legs down, and passing gas like she's a machine gun herself....So from 12:30-2 this morning, I had intermittent sleep as I was awoken about every 5-10 minutes or so from her noises. Finally, at 2, it was clear she was officially ready to eat.
And don't even try to tell me that I should just pick her up at 12:30 and feed her.
It's the principle of the matter. I am training her to sleep through the night by torturing myself. It's a tried and trusted method.....ask my older six....
So at 2 I'm feeding her and the masked gunman is back at my door. I really might need professional help, but I'm thinking that it will all work itself out eventually.....
She eats quickly and I put her to bed, and do the mad dash to the bathroom and get back in bed before my visitor has time to realize what I've done. Thankfully, I was able to render myself unconscious rather quickly that time. Sometime between the time of 4:30-5;00 I was awoken to a different sound.
This time, the sound wasn't just in my head. (thank you very much)
It was the pitter patter of little feet and guys, IT WAS COMING FROM DOWNSTAIRS.....
I knew what it was immediately, but for some reason, kept thinking, 'it can't be.'
I opened my door, and saw the toddler/six year old's door open. DARN IT..... She can escape now.
Sure enough, halfway up the stairs, comes that little stink pot, carrying her blankie and telling me she wants 'Me-we.' That's short for Mary. Her sister. That she shares a room with. Guess she forgot she was still in the room with her.
Now. It's o dark thirty. Has anyone else tried to convince a toddler at o dark thirty that she still needed to be in bed?
Let your imagination run wild with that fun party I had.
I crawled back in bed at 5:45. Great. I had 15 minutes before I needed to wake up Jackson, AND the baby had apparently begun her ritual of needing to eat. Holy smokes. What a night. I wanted to fall asleep so badly and just say, "to heck with it" and let the kids fend for themselves, but I've actually been trying to be a better mom lately, and get up with them.... :) Hey- cut me some slack- there are a LOT of people in my house....
So there it was. My first night alone in I don't know how long.
People, I have four more nights to go. Please pray for me. Between the night terrors, the wandering toddler, and my insanely overactive imagination,.....it's gonna be a long four nights.....
And don't worry about laughing about this post- honestly, I laughed so hard when I recalled all the other "imaginings" I didn't enlighten you with- perhaps that can be for tomorrow's blog....
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