Four notes from yesterday

Some notes from an ordinary day:


As a third child, Elise rolled over back to front three times before any of us witnessed her feat. I don't even know what day the very first roll was. (I do, however give her ample amount of fatty-fat-fat rolls plenty of attention because gosh, baby rolls and baby breath and baby heads just deserve to be savored). Anyway, her milestones can slip through the cracks and that's just that, but let it be known that yesterday, January 14, 2016, she napped for two and a half hours straight. 

I've been so accustomed to her preferred commitment to sporadic slumber that I even went in to check if she were still breathing, a habit that hasn't formed while mothering her since she frustratingly has focused on developing a short nap habit. She was! And after such a restful sleep, I'm sure she would like you to know, "I woke up like this."


Poor Conor Baby (still his nickname since he is still the baby of my boys ... ) has an ear infection yet again. We've had a lot of cuddling and watching of his favorite "Raw-hood" (it may sound like  a more dramatic title for Straight Outta Compton, but that is his pronunciation for Robin Hood). He was taking a turn for the screamy side after dinner so I popped him on my hip and went about washing the dishes one handed. Eventually Ryan came in with an attempt to stall cleaning the play room. I sent him back on his merry melancholic way, and my mind was lost in the hot water and dish soap, and I thought to myself seriously, "There's Ryan, Elise is asleep, but I wonder when Conor is going to holler?" 

It took me a few moments to realize that he was still on my hip. 


It was so warm yesterday! All high 30s degrees warm! The kids and I ventured outside at almost five to the neighborhood hill to catch the last snow before it all melted away. We were like surfers rushing to catch the last wave except in the hearty Midwest. I was huffing and puffing to get all their snow gear with only mediocre at best expectations of the next two minutes to ten minutes we would spend in the snow before Conor shed his mittens and beg to be return to our heated home.  And then we went outside and there was no mediocre in sight. Ryan sled down over and over and over. He had a perma-grin under the Notre Dame perma-cloud. I stood at the top of the hill with an alert, red-nosed Elise on my chest tracking his escapades down the hill with nary a whimper from cold. Conor, who is timid in adventure, but not timid in both tackling and conversation, preferred to stand at the top of the hill clutching his Star Wars toy while shouting, "Go Wyan!". He did have one go down the hill which ended in him sprawled out in the snow moaning, "WHERE TIE-FIGHTER GO??"

No worries, we found it.


As a result of her splendid nap, I was feeling lucky so I took a swing at laying Elise down for bed before the boys. Once her shut eye gave me two-handed freedom I was off to finally make the hot chocolate I had used as a bribe, set it aside to cool, explain to Conor it was still too hot, finish the dishes, explain to Conor it was still, still too hot, put away the laundry, explain to Conor it was still, still, still too hot, vacuum the remnants of a toddler eating dinner, explain to Conor it was still still, still, still, still too hot, and supervise the last of the toy cleaning. Finally the hot chocolate was just right! I placed the mugs on the table, plopped Conor in the high chair and heard Elise cry. Hmmmm. Girlfriend was playing me with that stellar nap.  I tossed the options around in my head; how daring was I feeling with the rest of my night? Do I go nurse Elise down again and leave the floors in peril of the boys' hot chocolate sloshing so she knows it is time to sleep or do I go get her and live with the horror of a 7 o'clock nap, but not have to clean up hot chocolate? I traded hopeful freedom for the prospect of a mess and went to nurse that baby I just am not ready to sleep train yet. We nursed, and I kept thinking about the pending disaster area. When she had fallen asleep again, I hurried to our kitchen/living room/dining room. And what did I find?  The boys were sitting nicely with their animals and dinosaurs, a favorite puzzle, and hot chocolate with not a single bit of mess. 

"What's happening?" I asked.

Conor looked at me with his chipmunk cheeks smothered in brown from his overzealous tipping back and with the plump satisfaction you see after a good meal. He proudly stated while raising his mug, "HOT CHOC-AH-WATE." 

Ryan explained, "We are having a picnic, Mom."