After a night of interrupted sleep, my husband and I have mini competitions to see who got the least amount of sleep and who is therefore worthy of the most sympathy and the ability to sleep in on Saturday while the other responsible adult wakes up with the children, the oldest of whom seems to think it's totally fine to start his day at 5 in the morning.
I keep telling that child that it's totally not fine, but he doesn't listen to me. This morning, thankfully, he stayed upstairs until 6, though I could hear him walking around earlier than that. But he needed to sleep with us because there was apparently a huge buzzing dragonfly in his room that was preparing to sting him at any moment.
It turns out that his window was cracked and we live super close to a busy bypass and train and really, I think the incessantly loud traffic noise and stupid, over-exuberant train whistle woke him up.
So it was early when I was dragged out of bed because my children aren't cuddlers in the sense that they can be still and just lay with you.
They may want to lay down, but they don't want to lay down and be still. There is turning and wiggling and elbowing and general not-comfortableness that does not encourage any of us to dawdle in bed.
And this was after my husband came home late from being out of town for work. It was around 11 before he showed up, and maybe I should have gone to bed since I'd missed out on good sleep all week from a certain 3 year old who wakes up screaming a few times a night. But I kind of thought he'd have a sympathy present for me as I'd had to deal with both grumpy children by myself for two days and also had to take Adele to soccer practice wherein I spent the entire time chasing her back onto the correct field because once she gets the soccer ball she just wants to keep running and kicking and the only way to stop her is to pick her up and carry her back to the correct spot.
I also had to pack up two chairs and three jackets and a stuffed dinosaur and a water bottle while keeping an eye on my precious angel who was mad because the concession stand was closed and I wouldn't promise her that she could have a sucker at home (because you don't need anything to make you more hyper, Adele.) and so she ran all around, including toward traffic because the only way to really punish me for not giving her candy is to have me lose my mind. I finally got her to stay sort if in one area by having Sebastian kick the soccer ball with her.
But I also thought Chris would have a sympathy gift for me because Adele colored all over the bathroom and herself with a non-washable blue marker, and this was after she overflowed the toilet by flushing down a whole roll of toilet paper.
But no. Nope. Zero presents.
So we went to bed late but I couldn't sleep because I'd had a ton of french press coffee in the afternoon to try to keep myself awake on account of being ridiculously exhausted and we all know what happens when I do that.
So I lay there and lay there and tried to calm my brain down, and just when I finally think I'm close to sleep I hear screaming from the monitor. Okay then.
I go upstairs and pick Adele up out of bed and sit with her and as soon as I do she falls right back to sleep. And I sit and hold her for just a few more minutes to make sure she's good and asleep but also because there are very few moments a day when she's still and even less when she sits
still in my arms.
So no sleep. But I did get to enjoy a quiet, non-argumentative moment with my fiery, I-do-everything-myself 3-year-old baby girl. And maybe that's worth it.
(Although a present would have been nice, Christopher.)