Just Another Day In Paradise

3:32 a.m.
I wake abruptly from a deep sleep. The baby monitor is going off like bombs over Baghdad.

My 4-month-old, Addison, wants a bottle. Believe it or not, I usually cherish this middle of the night interruption. It is our time to cuddle and bond.

Tonight however, I am all drugged up on Benadryl- thanks to allergies- and I almost drop her twice. To stay awake I start singing “Rock-a-bye Baby” and I get to thinking about the words … Who in the hell wrote this messed up song?

Now-a-days you mention putting a baby cradle up in a treetop and someone calls Children’s Services. Your mug shot plastered all over the evening news and Nancy Grace.

7:05 a.m.
“Mornin’ Mom-Mee. I wan bite.” I roll over and see blonde curly hair eye level with the mattress.

My son looks forward to waking me up so he can have a bite of my breakfast. It sounds sweet, but usually this causes at least one major meltdown before 8 a.m.

“No moat-meal. I want nack,” he says when I offer him a bite.

A “nack” means fruit snacks and they are literally like baby crack. Tyler is addicted to them and he will do ANYTHING for a “nack.”

He throws in a “Peaz” for good measure and vigorously starts doing the sign for please with his hands. He seems to think that he should get whatever he wants as long as he says please.

“We don’t have nacks for breakfast,” I remind him. “Would you like a bite of mommy’s banana?”

“No nana!” he screams at me. This is followed by a 15-minute melt down which includes tears and snot.

The baby monitor starts going off. The breakfast protest has woken up Princess. I crack open a Diet Coke and head upstairs to get her. Tyler follows me crying and pulling at my pant leg just to make sure that I know exactly how pissed off he is.

8:30 a.m.
Things are under control. Tyler is quietly playing cars, Addie is fed, and the dogs are locked outside for safe keeping. Fueled by my second Diet Coke, I have managed to start some laundry, answer an urgent work email, and do the dishes.

Things are going so smoothly that I feel confident in my ability to pull-off a shower! This is not easy with two babies. I lay Addie on a blanket and sit Tyler beside her with the portable DVD player. The Backyardigan’s should entertain him for roughly 7 minutes.

I rip off my clothes and hop in the shower. I am washing my hair when I hear an “Uh Oh.”

Damn. He’s pushed a button in attempt to go to the next episode.

The DVD player comes through the shower curtain and into the stream of water. I see his little face staring at me. “You help me?” he asks innocently.

The DVD player is soaked and I fight back the urge to scream the F-word.

“In one minute,” I say through clenched teeth.

He runs out of the room crying because one-minute seems like an eternity to a 2-year-old. The baby starts screaming. I can’t see her, but I’m pretty sure she was accidentally stepped on in the protest against my shower.

10:07 a.m.
Tyler and I are playing cars while Addie naps in the baby swing. He starts grunting and making disturbing faces.

“Tyler do you have to go poopy,” I ask him?

“No Archie (the dog) poops,” he replies. It’s an interesting response.

Tyler spent last weekend at Me-Maw and Paw-Paw’s house. I’ll have to thank my dad for reading Tyler the book, Everyone Poops. He’s been obsessed with the subject ever since.

I sit him on the potty and for the next half hour he runs down a list of everyone he knows. Everyone who apparently poops.

“Me-Maw poops. Paw-Paw poops. Daddy poops. Elmo poops ….”

I end this discussion when he starts getting straight up ridiculous. “Shoes poop. Trucks poop.” The bathroom smells toxic and now I have the joy of wiping his butt.

Afterwards I sing, “Wash the stinkies out. Wash the stinkies out.” This is a song I made up to engage him in washing his hands. It works. He thinks it is fun and for the next 20-minutes he marches around the family room singing “Wash the stinkies out.”

12:30 p.m.
I’m in the home stretch. Addie is fed and Tyler has agreed to eat half of his chicken nuggets in exchange for a nack.

After lunch both of them should go down for a nap. I can hardly wait. I will have a little peace and quiet to watch my “girlfriends” on The View.

Auntie Barbara, as Tyler and I call her, is back on the show today. She has been out covering Michael Jackson’s funeral. I can’t wait to hear all about it.

1:30 p.m.
HALLELUJAH. Both babies are asleep in their rooms. I toss my third load of laundry in the washer and pop open another Diet Coke. I need energy for the second half of the day.

I’m getting ready to sit down and fire up TIVO when I hear a choking sound in the dining room.

Archie has puked up what appears to be a chicken nugget. Scarlett is trying to eat it. I have a choice to make; let the bile stain the white carpet and watch my show or clean it up and risk waking up one of the kids.

I don’t think I can handle ANOTHER stain on the carpet so I start up the steam cleaner.

There is a God. Both kids remain asleep.

2:15 p.m.
Elizabeth and Joy get into a little argument about politics. BORING. I fast forward to get to the good part … gossip.

Thunder rumbles outside and I get a little nervous. Both of my kids are light sleepers and Tyler is terrified of storms.

Yep. Screams come from upstairs. I guess there will be no down time today.

3:30 p.m.
I soothe Addie back to sleep. The thunder has ceased, but the rain continues.

Uninterested in books and over playing cars Tyler begs me to go outside. I debate the practicality of this. I think about my grandma who used to tell me “when life gives you rain, defy it under an umbrella.”

Out we go.

Tyler squints as rain hits his cheek. He squeals with delight. “ I yuh yo (love you) mom. I like da rain,” he says.

Yep practicality is overrated. I miss my grandma. She was the best.

5:12 p.m.
Both kids are hungry and the concert of cries sound like an obnoxious symphony.

I hear the garage door open and everyone goes ape shit. The dogs bark, Tyler runs to the window. I feel like doing a cartwheel.

Blake is home from work. BACKUP! Now I know how a lone police officer must feel when the SWAT Team shows up.

I pour a glass of wine and Blake makes a snide comment. “Whatever,” I hiss. He’s been home five-minutes and already he’s on my fragile nerves.

I show restraint Monday thru Thursday. I don’t bust out the “Janie juice” until 5 p.m. I think 4:45 p.m. is appropriate on Fridays. Besides I drink wine for my heart. Got to keep the older ticker in good shape since I don’t workout.

7 p.m.
We’re in the home stretch again. The kids go to bed in a hour and a half!

Tyler and Blake are playing so I put Addie in the stroller and walk down the street to my friend’s house. I know her husband won’t judge if I have a second glass of wine. She has three kids under the age of two so I know she’s always up for a drink.

Not home. Damn. Where do you even go with three babies I wonder?

8:30 p.m. on the dot
Blake has Addie duty and it’s my turn to put Tyler to bed. There is nothing in the world I enjoy more. He snuggles in my lap while we read books.

We fold our hands and say our prayers. Tyler waves at the ceiling and says, “nite nite Got (God), nite nite Jeez (Jesus).”

I lay him in his crib and as I close the door he says, “I yuh yo my mommy.”

10:07 p.m.
I retreat to my bedroom and hope my husband will stay downstairs and watch baseball. I love him and all, but it’s been a long day and I want some time to myself.

He follows me upstairs feigning exhaustion, but I know what he wants. It’s been like a week since we’ve had sex and I know where this is going.

I try to ignore his looks and appear even more tired than I already am.

“Do you want to do it?” he asks.

“Absolutely,” I say. “The way you romantically woo me makes me want to rip my clothes off.”

He doesn’t recognize the sarcasm in my voice or maybe he chooses to ignore it.

The rest is history. Good history!

10:10 p.m. (just kidding)

11:00 p.m.
We turn off the TV and go to sleep because 3:30 a.m. comes around really fast.

Thank God tomorrow is a work day. This part-time business is really the best of both worlds. When I’m at work I miss my kids. After a couple of days with the kids I’m ready to go to work.

As I drift off to sleep I think about my life and the words to one of my favorite songs …

Well, there’s no place that
I’d rather be
Well, it’s two hearts
And one dream
I wouldn’t trade it for anything
And I ask the Lord every night
For just another day in paradise