Wow. That was … just … one of the busiest months of my life, and in case you haven’t heard (because it’s not like I tell people all the time or anything) I bought a house while 9 months pregnant.
So that’s saying something.
And I am completely happy to be back to our normal schedule, even though that new normal schedule includes Sebastian waking up at 5 a.m.
Should I repeat that?
I have no idea what his problem is and why sleep is not on his morning agenda, but there you go. He will lie quietly for awhile but eventually the kicking of the wall starts. I don’t know about you but that sound is enough to make me kick the wall myself. It makes me want to hurl things through windows and punch kittens. It’s a systematic, rhythmic thumping that means I’ve got to crawl out from under my warm blankets and put on my mom hat. I would much, much rather he just get out of bed and come downstairs, even if it’s early, than proceed with all that kicking, because it also means that Adele will be awake shortly since can anyone really sleep through that hideous noise?
The holidays. They were a blur of food and desserts and more sweets and then even more food and maybe some presents (Chris got me potatoes. Yes, really. He said it was an Irish Christmas). There were tantrums and fights and music and lights and more food and even more candy and maybe a few more presents.
We try to keep the gifts for the kids at a minimum. It’s hard because I want to buy them everything I see that I think they’ll like, but I also want them to not grow up expecting to be handed everything they want whenever they want it. I know some people like that. They are not my favorite people.
However, they did not have an Irish Christmas. (Apologies to anyone Irish who takes offense to that. We’re a big fan of potatoes. And Guinness. And red hair. Any other stereotypes I’ve left out? The Celtic Women?)
I do think that Sebastian has had a little too much Christmas, though, which is another reason I’m happy to see this season go. His behavior has been a bit challenging, but that’s only increased by the fact that his sister insists on aggravating him. He will be playing quietly, and the little bugger will toddle up to him and smack him or pull his hair. Just for kicks. I honestly thought I had at least another 6 months to a year before I had to deal with the sibling squabbles. Unfortunately I was wrong. They fight over toys and my lap and books and they’re father’s attention. And they are not afraid to get physical. Adele hits and pulls hair or pinches, but Sebastian is smart. He won’t hit her but he will turn his back to her and bump her with his butt. Hard. Do you know how difficult it is to keep from laughing when your 3 year old butt bumps his little sister? It’s like, why do I always have to be the adult? That shit is funny. And she just yells back at him or smacks him. And then he bumps her again. Repeat.
So really, I’m not a mother. I’m a referee. Who feeds the players. And sometimes cleans up after them.
I realize there’s no real point to this post. I don’t think my bloggingness has returned from vacation yet.
To make up for it, he's a picture of my baby with a wine bottle. The wine was really good, by the way. Chris will probably be unhappy with me for posting this, but maybe he shouldn't have bought me potatoes, even if they were fingerling.