Actually daytime with two was perfectly pleasant. But I hate a double nighttime routine.
It went along smoothly at first. Will was thrilled to help me bathe Owen. But then came Will’s turn for the tub. In the three seconds it took me (with back turned to Will) to buckle Owen into his bouncy seat for a view of big brother’s bath, Will decided to reach from outside the unfilled tub across to the tub toys perched on the soap rest. As I turned back to him he fell head first into the tub. Luckily it was a slow-motion kind of fall that left him totally unscathed. But he was scared plenty so he started screaming and Owen started screaming and I started seeing visions of me taking both of them – bleeding Will and wailing Owen to the emergency room (which we did once visit with Will after a tub accident a couple years back).
A minute later, we’d all recovered, Will agreed he’d learned a lesson: NEVER reach for anything inside the bathtub when you are outside of it -- and Owen was laughing (it almost seemed out of relief) as Will enjoyed his bath. At bath’s end, Owen was looking sleepy so I decided we’d put him down a half hour early, partly because toothbrushing and book reading sounded simpler with just Will. Will and I sang Owen a duet lullaby, and laid him down to sleep. After a couple stories. Will, who is now used to daddy doing all things bedtime related, went nicely to bed.
But Owen was soon up from what proved to be a late evening power nap and I couldn’t get his wide eyed, grinning little self back to sleep until 11. Before which time, Will made a grumpy 10:30 p.m. appearance from his room and announced he was ready for breakfast. He settled for just going pee instead and grudgingly went back to bed.
A half hour later, after the 20th round of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and his sixth stint of pacifier-gnawing, Owen finally joined him in dream land.
I could feel a thin layer of sweat coating my body from our evening walk to the park (in this lovely 90-degree weather -- we're just pretending it's October in Columbus). But I was too scared to shower for fear that one of my resistant sleepers would wake up crying and in the process wake up the other resistant sleeper. So I went to bed grimey.
At 3:30, Will roused me from a deep sleep to demand oatmeal again, but I hauled him back to bed.
The real oatmeal time? 5:50 a.m., when he was too chipper and determined to put back to sleep.
So here I sit bleary-eyed, awaiting Rob’s return. And if you do happen to be a single mother of multiple children, I'm thinking of holding some kind of big hero's banquet for you.
...Don't they look tempting?
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