I’m sitting in the car in the garage with you guys, hunched over my laptop in the front seat like a skeevy private detective. You are sleeping, Baby Boy. You are not sleeping but content, Baby Girl, having a grand ol’ conversation with yourself. It sounds like you are speaking Italian. I don’t want to make any sudden movements and wake the dragon.
It’s pouring rain out.
I have to pee.
Inside the house is a mess.
What brought us here?
…We were having a fine morning. It wasn’t raining then. We went to the park. It was practically empty. You went on the swings! You went down the slide by yourself for the first time! You only fell once! We ran forever and ever on that big green field, picking flowers, chasing birds. We saw a squirrel and I said look, look!, he’s a squirrel, he’s just tryin’ to get a nut…
And then it was nap time. And I put you down in your cribs and I said good-night. Rest for now. We’ll have more fun later. I closed the door and you both fell asleep almost instantly…
Only a mere forty-five minutes later you both woke up screaming. Screaming. No fevers. No colds. No teething. No category 5 diapers. Who started it? Why? What happened??
I ran to you. Picked you both up–which, for the record, is getting very, very hard to do. I calmed you down. We rocked in your chair and watched Blue’s Clues for a bit (*TV is to be avoided until age two my ass). You were dozing off sucking your thumb, Baby Girl. Baby Boy, you nodded off on my shoulder.
I put your sister down first…
Then I put you down, and in that instant you not only woke up but sprang up to your feet like a resurrected Michael Meyers AND proceeded to hop the railing of your crib like a track star jumping hurdles. Thankfully, you landed on your side on your arm.
Your sister started crying…
You cried but just for an instant, the minute I picked you up you stopped and seemed satisfied…
So now it’s 5:15 and you just conked out, Baby Boy. I don’t want to wake you, because you just fell asleep, but I do because it’s so close to dinner and bed and if I don’t all that is going to be off. Baby Girl, you are delirious, making raspberries and flapping your feet.
I ordered “toddler rails” to convert your cribs into beds. They’ll be here on Friday. I guess I have to set those up this weekend. I guess I can’t risk you throwing yourselves out of your cribs and landing on your heads on a nightly basis–because I know you, you are fearless my two little Obama campaigners, everything is “Oh yes we can!”
Beds, just like that.
So, gone are the days now of leaving you in your cribs putting yourselves to sleep now, “talking” to each other or flipping through books? You are just going to be running around? Climbing into bed with each other, or worse, me and your dad? Are we never to sleep again?
Why did you wake up screaming today? That seemed to have started it all…
I can see maybe in 7th grade when life is terrible, when you have braces and no boobs and are learning math and think nobody likes you and all the stupid people are cool, but after this morning? This blissful morning at the park?
The garage light just turned off by itself and now we’re sitting here in the dark. I hear stirring from the back which means you are both up. What is my move?
I can’t help but think of that squirrel out there in the rain, I wonder how it’s going looking for that nut.