Sunday, October 2, 2011

Sarcasm is generally lost on a two-year old.

It was one of those mornings...a rough going morning.  Following a rough night.  The kind of night where I stayed up a little too late to begin with and then the baby visited me and I had to carry her back to bed which is getting to be more and more of a chore because, well who are we kidding, she's not much of a baby anymore.  And my back was feeling a little too tender from some other sort of carrying-the-baby-the-wrong-way event from earlier in the day.  And so I tried to sleep on the couch where it was, ahem, quieter (and that's all I'm going to say about my bed-partner) and softer and so it felt nice for my back even though I'm not sure how my chiropractor feels about that but I was able to do that thing where I put the pillows between my knees and under my chest and I get to sleep on my side but with my back leaning against the couch cushions.  Until the baby found me again and replaced my chest pillow with herself and then Tulip found me later and actually said all sleep-walk like, "It's okay Mama, there's room for me over there" and got in the space between my bent knees and the couch so that I could not stretch my legs out which is what my little too tender back needs sometimes but what my daughters obviously needed more was to cuddle Mama at 4:00 in the morning.  Again.

So it was the kind of morning that follows that kind of night.

And our plan was to go to the apple orchard after breakfast and then to the outlet mall to get new jackets for the kids after that.

And I ridiculously thought I could crawl back into my own bed for a quick power nap after breakfast and before we left for the orchard.  This sort of behavior on my part seems to be an invitation for the children to pester me.  It is as if the rule is: When you see Mama is tired, and is trying to sneak a nap, you must pester her relentlessly.  And they are so good at that.  They are just delightful pesterers.  My husband is giggling.  Tulip said, "How long are you going to stay in bed because I'm really worried about you not being out here."  Oh brother.  Worried?  She has never expressed that emotion or said that word ever.  Where did she learn that?  Who signed her up for soap opera school?  How can I nap when I'm giggling too?  Who do I think I am anyway trying to nap when we have an orchard to go to?

And so we're getting dressed and Luna puts on a tank top and tulle skirt.  She hasn't learned seasons yet.  Then Tulip is helping her put on some boots.  Nice sistering, Tulip, but I still have to take off those boots to put a diaper and some leggings on her.  Gabe tries to help but Luna is in some sort of "I want Mama to do it" phase.  So there's that too.

Gabe helps by announcing, "I'm getting in the van" which mobilizes everyone into action.  Shoes, check.  Jackets, check.  I have to remind everyone to pee before getting in the van which sabotages Gabe's directive by making the children retreat back into the house.  Going pee turns into some great big thing with Luna.

And it's time to go.

And I realize that I'm still wearing the clothes I slept in.

Luna says, "Let's go, Mama."

I said, probably a little too loudly, probably like I wanted everyone to hear, "Mama is still in her pajamas.  Mama is not ready to go.  Maybe if everyone could give Mama a break, I would be ready to go.  I guess you want me to stay home."

"Oh," Luna says, nonchalantly walking away, as if this were fact and joins her father and siblings at the door, and announces to the waiting crowd, "Mama stay home."

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