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Another great night at the Donovan house.  Here’s the sequence of events:

2:30am—screaming, unhappy toddler standing in his crib.

Somewhere between 2:30 and 3:00am—I stumble in a sleepy yet angry stupor into Pierce’s room and take him back to our bed, thinking I will sleep better there than in the glider in his room.

4:30am—tired of sharing my bed with two other people.  Decide to try stealthily to carry sleeping child back to his room.

4:31am—sleeping toddler is no longer sleeping and whimpering “no” to being returned to his crib…Damn!

4:31 and 30 seconds—the tantrum commences over having been abandoned to sleep in his comfy little bed in his wonderful little room

5:15am—the tantrum is still going on, and I am considering putting a pillow over somebody’s face.  Hmmm…  Me, maybe?  Could I actually put myself out of my misery this way, or am I stronger than myself.  Greg, perhaps?  Because he won’t get up and take care of this hideous screaming something or another in the next room so I can sleep.  Pierce—probably the path of least resistance if I didn’t love him so much outside of this moment.

5:16—I am unhappily grabbing my child from his crib and taking him to our bed again.

5:20—he’s squirming and fussing and I’m over it, so I take him back to his crib where the dog and pony show resumes.

5:21—I surrender to rocking him in the glider until we both fall asleep.  I am so tired at this point that I try to slow the rocking motion down until we are stationary, but Pierce still wants to rock, so he is trying to move his body to get the chair gliding again—or he’s trying to send me an all too presumptuous message to “keep rocking!”

6:20am—“Mommy, I’m hungry.”  Good morning, Mikey.  I’m so groggy from hours of interrupted sleep, but the three of us head out to the kitchen for breakfast.  All goes the usual way.

7:35—the doorbell rings.  What?!!!  Mikey’s friend that rides with us to school has shown up 25 minutes early.  He’s a good kid, but having him here when we were trying to get dressed, teeth brushed, etc. really slows down the process, given Michael’s limited window of focus.  I also haven’t had a shower, and my boys don’t have the concept of privacy totally down yet, so this was a little scary to do with someone else’s 8 year-old son in my house.  I was afraid Mikey would barge in and I would end up flashing his friend.  Thankfully, I laid down some ground rules, locked the bathroom door, and all went off without indecent—I mean incident…tee…hee.  At a certain point, though Michael is trying to talk to me through the bathroom door with the shower running.  Not terribly effective…  all  I could hear was mumbling.

7:45—I asked the neighbor boy if anyone ever where denim shorts to school since there is a loose uniform dress code.  Since one of our colors is navy, he had seen kids wearing them to school.  All the khaki shorts were in the laundry, so I ironed a t-shirt and jean shorts for Mikey to wear.  Last I saw, he was getting dressed, but apparently what he was trying to say through the bathroom door when I was showering, was that he didn’t want to where jean shorts—“they’re stupid.”

7:57—we need to leave for school within 10 minutes at the latest, and I am arguing with a 5 year-old about having no clean khaki’s for him.  He comes out stripped to his underwear with an old pair of tan shorts that have swordfish embroidered on them.  Since I do stupidly large loads of laundry, and there is always a load in the dryer, they looked like crinkled up tinfoil.  I told him he couldn’t wear them—they weren’t even ironed!!!!   He won…I was tired of arguing and we needed to leave.  I finally asked him why he didn’t want to where the denim shorts that he wears every weekend.  He said, “They might notice me.”  Or something to that idea.  I enquired as to why this was so disconcerting when he could carry “Nummy” with him to school and suck his thumb without concern for what other people thought.

8:12—we are on our way to school, thank God!!!

Some point after 11:30am—Pierce and I were driving home from Grammy and Papa’s and I realized that the tot has learned how to mimic a sneeze.  With an “ahh…ahhhh…ahhhhh…Chooo” he demonstrates, only the “chooo” is more like “p-tew” with lots of spittle spray.  It was pretty darn funny!

All this before noon… boy did I need a nap!

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