Dylan is waking up from his morning nap right now. 10:27am. I put him down at 9am. He spent the first 15 minutes in his crib eating playing cards. I had to go upstairs and take them out of his hands (I don’t know how he got them in the first place…) and substitute it with a sturdier board book. Now, as I watch him on the video monitor, I see he’s rolling from side to side, thumb in mouth, lovie snuggled to his cheek. Oscar is sleeping in the Fisher-Price chair on the kitchen table in front of me. One dog is outside chasing squirrels, the other is inside, chewing our couch (probably). I am home with both boys, as you know, and I sort of feel like I need to bend my knees and remain in the “ready position” throughout the entire day.
Obviously, our daycare provider is unavailable today, so this is my first day with both boys, by myself. So far, so good. The tricky part was this morning. You and I decided to let Dylan sleep in. Good plan. But as soon as you left for work, Dylan woke up. So, despite Oscar’s light fussing in his half-asleep state, I tucked him into his rocker and went to Dylan. I picked Dylan up, snuggled him close, then laid him down to change his diaper – at which point he started to twist and turn like a corkscrew, resisting my every attempt. Why would he not want me to take that urine-soaked diaper off of him? Why? At some point, I succeeded in getting him clean and dry before taking him into our room to nurse. We snuggled in bed and Dylan started nursing just as Oscar woke up with a throaty scream, punching his fists in the air and exercising every ounce of lung tissue. Dylan popped his head up then, “Baby? Baby!” and pointed in the darkness toward the rocker at the foot of the bed. I tried to distract him, but it was no use. He wanted to give his brother a good morning kiss. And another. And another. Now, Oscar was really wailing, and Dylan had yet to really nurse. I decided to let Oscar cry it out. Dylan settled in, nursed for a good five minutes, then slid off the bed and toddled back toward Oscar. More baby kisses. I decided it was time to go downstairs for breakfast. It was 7am.
And that, I’m sure, is just a preview of the day to come. Let’s call it a glimpse into the next few years that will surely be a blur of sleepless nights and frenzied days fueled by various permutations of caffeine, whiskey and wine. This blurb is also all I can squeeze into today’s blog. The boys call. XOXO.