Sorry I've Been MIA Lately

They say that time is relative to the amount you've spent in it. The longer your life, the shorter each period of time feels. Young children with a few years under their belt feel like 5 minutes can last a lifetime. I must have time warped into my 90s because I swear the hours are passing like seconds lately!
I blinked and now it's Friday.
I'm ashamed to admit my excuses for being so hit and miss on my blogging lately. But here they are for good measure:
Thing #1 came down with serious attitude and signs of exhaustion on Sunday, a snotty nose on Monday, and a full blown fever on Tuesday. Meanwhile, Thing #2 continues to break glass with her screaming, and now also has a full blown snot factory cold. Needless to say we've been quarantined since Tuesday.
I cannot tell you how awful it is to be restricted to your home with two children for three days. We got weird. The house got unbearable in more ways than one. And the laundry got ignored...again.
We're on the mend, I'm bringing in the Grandparent troops and I'm taking off for a night away. Bring on the wine and the sanity. Halle-F&%$!-ing-llujah!


The Scream Team

Now, I know every child screams. But it seems to me I've been graced with a child who possesses improved lung capacity and an Opera-sized larynx. In the wee hours of the morning, I awoke to Ana's deafening shrieks from her crib. When I arrived at her crib I realized her HUGGIES diaper (I'm not expecting further endorsement from this company, nor will they receive my money) had leaked all over her crib. Screaming was a valid reaction to waking up in a puddle of pee, I'll give her that. But as I wrestled a clean diaper on her and slid a temporary cover over the wet spot, she became further enraged to the point that neighbors (if we had any) should be calling 911. Something is seriously wrong in that house.
At this point you're saying to yourself, okay, okay, we get it! Your kid screams loud.
And maybe, at this point, you're right. But the fifteen minutes I spent trying to calm her down, attempting to shush the quiet into her, fleeing from room to room as she relentlessly awakened every member in our household with a determined red-faced whole body scream told me this might be a unique situation requiring future therapy. This was a really, really MAD scream. And it was really, really 2:37 A.M.
Now that Shelby had come running into our bed mumbling "Daddy, it's too loud" and I watched as they simultaneously pulled the covers up over their heads. Even the dog sought solace in the farthest room from the noise, the back bathroom...her head shoved under the toilet. As Ana began to slow to a regular "AUUUGGHHHHH!" quiet quiet quiet "AAUUUUUUGGHHHH!!", just when I thought we were making progress the hiccups began.
"AAAAUUUUGGHHH!" quiet, quiet, hiccup, quiet, "AAUUUGGHHHH!" quiet, quiet, hiccup, quiet...it went on like this for what seemed like an eternity. How did I get stuck with this job, isn't my usual post the quilty parent curled up in bed whilst my patient husband shushes the children to sleep? Her little body shook with rage one minute and then suddenly went limp as she dropped into deep sleep. And then just as suddenly, she erupted in a fit of rage.
And when the screaming died down and her tiny body succumbed to sleep, I tip-toed around the house, returning the sleeping to their rightful places until I finally fell back into my side of the bed.
John rolled over and whispered, "You know, we may have a long future in anger management with her."
You said it.


Super Dads To The Rescue Day

Every Mom knows that the real title of Mother's Day is really "Super Dads To The Rescue Day". After only four glorious "Super Dads To The Rescue Days" under my belt, I know all too well my expectations of myself and my wonderful spouse when this day arrives. I am ashamed to say that each year Mother's Day rolls around, my idea of celebrating Motherhood excludes all motherly responsibility. On Mother's Day, I expect to sleep in, refrain from all diaper changing, read the paper uninterrupted, have breakfast served to me, etc. Yes, I purposely avoid all my motherly duties, all day long, including sibling rivalries, cooking, cleaning and especially negotiating tantrums.
And yesterday was no different. I even took a midday nap. John (aka Super Dad) took up the slack by inviting the kids on a long bike ride to the park. When they returned to discover mommy was indeed still in sloth shape, he conducted a tea party in the playhouse and then they packed up the wagon and headed to the beach. He delivered breakfast, bought us lunch, and happily agreed to my every wish.
And my only solace from the guilt of this day, is the fact that Father's Day (aka "Super Moms to the Rescue Day") is right around the corner. Oh boy.