Precious Sleep

What is the best thing about having a nine year old and a four and a half year old?  Sleep. My boys let me sleep in on the weekends. They're too young to be out late at night, keeping me awake with worry. I've earned this rest:  both boys woke up to eat until they were eleven months old. Dang acid reflux. 

Then the other night, B woke me up at 1 a.m. to let me know he couldn't sleep. This is highly unusual for him. I rolled out of bed and heated up some milk.  My little skeptic questions everything, so I explained that warming milk produces a chemical to help people sleep. 

Once he was snuggled in an armchair with a cozy blanket and a mug of warm milk, I googled to find out the specifics. This just in: warm milk as a sleeping agent is cited as a myth on so many sites.  Google it. 

I couldn't tell him that. 

So, I read him as much truth as I could.  Warm milk has triptophan, which helps people sleep. It increases sweatin in and melatonin production. It helps fill empty stomachs. The warmth of the milk helps people relax. 

My seventh grade English students explored bias in nonfiction this past nine weeks. Oh, the irony. 

Then I tucked B in, and left him working through the "grateful game". Instead of counting sheep, we think of someone or something we are grateful for for each letter of the alphabet. 

Then I headed off to bed, where I spent the next forty minutes trying to fall asleep.

B rides with me to work and then home or up pick up G every day.  He helps me on my classroom. He goes shopping with me. Still, it has been quite a while since he's asked me for advice. Most oft forty minutes of insomnia was spent feeling grateful that he still needs me sometimes. I was also extremely grateful that it's not often during the middle of the night. 

Teaching Sons to be Fabulous Husbands

My parent have been married for 37 years. My dad prides himself on being a badass, low key husband who doesn't spoil his wife with cards or flowers. We laugh about it because as much as he steers from grand gestures of his affection, he is quick to rush to her defense (text: Call your mother and voicemail: Don't forget it's Mom's birthday). He also keeps the house stocked in her favorite snacks and keeps the coffee pot full. 

Oma moved in with Mom and Dad a year and a half ago. She's 92 years of sweetness and sass. She's lived through three years of internment camp, loss of the young love of her life, parenting of five children across three countries, and nursing of her sassy husband with dementia (who was an amazing man in his own right). She jokes along with my Dad. It's cute to watch. 

Dad took her shopping the other day. Oma found this cute card and told Dad to buy it for Mom. 

 "Oma, I haven't gotten the woman a card in 37 years. If I start now, she'll expect it."

That's Dad's badass persona. Oma laughed it off. Later, Mom opened the card. 

Anyone who's read anything Oma writes will recognize the salutation as her handwriting. The signature looks much different. 

Apparently she feared that Mom would deduce that Dad did not sign the card, for this was written on the back. 

 

Sassy. 

The Domino Effect

As I was scrolling through Facebook  Monday, this lamp caught my eye.  One of my collegues was selling it for five dollars.  My classroom has several pieces decoupaged with nesting dolls fabric.  I bought the lamp, broke out the Modpodge and created this:

When I put it on my desk at work, though, it was entirely too small.  It was about half the size of the desk lamp I already had.  I ended up placing it on a desk near the back of the classroom.  It wasn’t as close as I wanted it to me, but I didn’t have an outlet available to set it on the bookshelf near my desk or my filing cabinet.  

Now I needed a new lampshade for the bigger lamp.

After a lot of online searching, I found a light gray one at Target.  I ordered it and had it sent to the store.  For thirteen dollars, I had a cute lampshade.  I thought about decoupaging it with the dolls, but decided against it.  I wasn’t sure that the texture of the lamp would look as good with Modpodge all over it.  I brought it to school and switched the lampshades out.   It was not as cute of a combo as I had hoped. 

I needed a new lamp base.  

I searched online at JC Penny’s and Kohls since I have giftcards to both.  There were not any bases I wanted that were cheaper than the amount of my giftcards.  After lunch with a friend today, I scoured stores in person, and found the perfect wooden teal lamp base at Walmart for $11.97.  

Total cost of spontaneous purchase of a $5 lamp: $29 and change.

Now to find $100 for stool I saw for behind my podium at school.

T.G.I.F.

By Friday afternoons, I am exhausted.  On the ride home from work after a weekly meeting, my body realizes how tired the week has made it.  Early mornings, duties, meetings, classes, sons' stories, sons' battles, dinners, housework, and late nights add up to one tired Mama.  Thank goodness my husband is wonderful and pulls more than his fair share with most of the list above. 

Yesterday afternoon, B and I stumbled through the door with my many bags.  G was at Grammy's for the weekend, and Josh was over there visiting.  B headed for his XBox and I headed for jammies with plans for a large glass of chocolate wine from my favorite mother-in-law. 

This is what I found on the sink in my bathroom:

I love Fridays and thoughtful Four-Year-Olds.

I Missed the Bus: The Remix

This morning I was halfway to the sitter's when I remembered I hadn't put on make-up.  I looked tired without eyeliner, but I didn't have time to turn around.  Eyeliner is not something you can borrow from just anyone.  It's close to one's very personal space: the eye.  In fact, I usually only use mine and, occasionally, Cassie's.  Cassie is on a different schedule than me, though, and wasn't out of bed yet. 

Brainstorm!  Her older sons attend the school at which I teach.  Given the last sentence, I obviously teach English.  In desperation, I called Cassie to see if she could put eyeliner in E's backpack.  His first block class is near my morning duty at school, and I could snag it from him.  Cassie would have helped, but C and E's bus had whisked them away about ten minutes before my phone call.  Dangit.

"Wait," sleepy Cassie quipped, "You missed the bus!"

Usually, her younger son misses the bus from the sitter's and Cassie must continue on to drop him off at school.  This happens often enough for me to have made her ringtone "I Missed the Bus" on my phone. G has sings along and dances a nifty little jig each time she calls me. 

I think I made her day.

Babysitting: Brother Style

This morning, G asked B to watch Whiskers while he "went to work".  G is a very protective Daddy who delivered instructions to B in writing.  In case you need reading glasses, B was to feed Whiskers, then read to him, then tuck little mousy nephew in for a nap.  The last line says, "Keep Whiskers away from mousetraps.  Keep him safe."

I noticed as I got ready, that B was not following the list in the correct order. He jumped straight to naptime.  I can't blame him, but I hoped, for B's sake that G did not come home early.  Sure enough, G did return and he gave Brother hell for not following the list as expected.

Now, here's where "house" is different for girls and boys.  To this point, it seemed like how I'd played house as a girl with my sister and cousin.  However, when G returned to "work", B had to wrestle and contain the crocodile that threatened Whiskers.  Woody from Toy Story took care of the other gator, rodeo style. 

Flashback to "house" as played with our brother.  Every time, no matter how much he promised his dog was a "nice dog"--every time--the dog would get into some raw meat and attack, then devour the baby.  Apparently, when Cassie's C plays house at the sitter's, he is often the "mean dog", at least according to B.  When I asked if C eats the baby, B threw me an odd look and said, "No, he just growls and barks a lot."  So things are becoming less violent.  Cool. 

At that rate, my grandsons should only have to deal with mildly irritated pets in their version of "house".

High Heels and Hole Punchers

Cassie and I took Monday as a sister shopping day.  We scheduled a KID-FREE sister shopping day for the first time in...  You know what?  I've lost count how long it's been.  We racked up on Shopkicks while sipping the free Starbucks drinks she'd earned, and spent some Christmas giftcards.  Random shout out to the mommy friend we saw pushing two small daughters in the huge cart in Target--keep up the good fight, my friend. 

So here was my mistake: I wore these cute shoes.  G loves them, and has insisted that I wear them daily since I brought them home from a shopping trip with my mom.  I have been smart enough not to wear them for a full day of teaching yet.  I could not resist wearing them to shop with Cassie, though, since she always wears heels and looks cute. 

G models our favorite boots.

We'd made it to Books-a-Million, Starbucks, JC Penney's, half a mall, and Target.  I was toting the three hole punch I needed to organize 2014 bills in a brand new binder (thank you, Pinterest--2013's is almost organized) when Cassie decided she wanted to try Kohl's and Cato's.  Two more stores of hanging with my sister and laughing at today's fashion, and yet...all my weight was crushing the balls of my poor, aching feet.  Could I admit defeat?  Could I end the trip?

We went straight to the shoe section.

I had only brought a $20 bill and giftcards.  I was going to have to leave Punchy behind.  I'd have to run out again, since old Punchy has disappeared.  The day before, I had searched the entire house, including kitchen cupboards before declaring old Punchy officially missing.  Why kitchen cupboards?  They're Josh's favorite hideaway for wayward items when he straightens up.  I left the key to my organized 2014 atop the Coke cooler at the checkout line. 

Not as cute, but definitely more suited to our mission.

Cassie met me at the trashcan outside the Target, as I was disassembling the intricate rubber band tethering the shoes to each other.  She handed me my "forgotten" bag, which contained the new Punchy she'd just purchased.

Cassie is definitely my favorite sister.