Mark recently joined facebook at the urging of his business partner to keep contact with some of his business relationships, etc., but mostly he has been having fun discovering all these people he knew from high school. Someone commented that he had a pretty wife, so THANKS to whichever friend (I'm sure it was a girl or he wouldn't have told me) helped me feel not quite so pregnant yesterday. So that's how I came up with the title today. I just wanted to write about some of our routine. You know, the typical things we go through almost every day. Let's see. I toss and turn all night with a sore out-of-whack pregnant neck (too bad my brother-in-law the chiropracter, or "choirpracter" as my father Archie Bunker calls him, is up on the beach in Oregon.) Then at about 6:30 in the pitch black dark Boston sneaks into our room and pokes at poor Mark (this is the BEST trick ever, ladies! Have the dad sleep closest to the door!). Mark puts him back in bed and climbs in with him since he can sleep anywhere. I smile, roll over, and go back to sleep. At 7:15 I hear a happy stream of old world Russian with a hint of Samoan and Hutu float in from Cooper's room. He is standing up in his crib and excited to see me. The first thing he does is grab his BYU fleece, holds it out to me, and announces, "Banket." I scoop them both up, change him, and try to sneak past the creaky hallway and down the stairs before he can wake Boston up. Cooper is still streaming foreign language, but for some reason this doesn't register as a wakeup call, so we're in the clear.
Then we head down to the basement where I turn on all the lights for him to play and wrap myself in my BYU fleece, then scoot myself up to the game table where all my scripture study stuff has been waiting. This usually takes about half an hour since I also write my thoughts in my journal and throw an occasional tennis ball back to Cooper. This morning was 3 Ne 23 where Jesus asks the people why they haven't written the prophecies of Samuel the Lamanite. He asks them if they came true with this question, "Was it not so?" It struck me that this is a great question for us to use when pondering spiritual matters. Was it not so? Is it not so? I would think that these questions give a great opportunity for the Holy Ghost to confirm truth to us.
When I get my thoughts all out on paper I scoop up Cooper and huff and puff my way back up two flights of stairs because he already needs another diaper change. Leslie is getting dressed and complaining about how she doesn't think her clock is right and that we are out of rubber bands. Boston is still snoring away. Mark is tying his tie and smirks at me for getting stuck with the dirty diaper.
Breakfast is cold cereal, except for Cooper, who only eats oatmeal or a solid breakfast like waffles, which he is not getting this morning. Leslie is eating too slowly because she is watching a Boomerang episode of Pound Puppies. I hurry her along and instruct her to tie her shoes in the mudroom where she can't see the TV. It's a miracle! The whole tying thing mysteriously only takes her 45 seconds instead of 5 minutes. All this happens while I debate whether or not to pour milk on my cereal yet. (You moms know what I'm talking about. As soon as the milk is poured, everyone suddenly needs your help.) Unfortunately we were out of granola and yogurt, which is the best mom breakfast ever because it maintains texture for atleast, oh, two hours or so. I sign off Leslie's homework and kiss her out the door.
The TV goes off and Boston is a little disgruntled because he only just came downstairs and missed the whole show. So I let him listen to an audio tap of The Jungle Book while he finishes his breakfast. Cooper and I dance around the kitchen and clap to "Bare Necessities" while I clean up. I make some more phone calls to finallly cement my VT appointment, then I herd the two remaining rugrats back upstairs to get dressed.
That part was uneventful today, but they are getting to the point where they like to play together...as long as they each have an identical toy and are noncombatant with that toy. For example, they like to hide behind the clothes in my closet, and today Cooper found an empty plastic hanger to play with. Boston wanted it and therefore, swiped it. Cooper screamed. I gave it back and hauled Boston off to the closet to get one for him. I find him a great one. "Mom, that one is green! I want a blue one like Coopy." Tough. We take the green one back to Coopy as a peace offering. Coopy doesn't want the green one either. They both scream. I roll my eyes, drop the green one on the floor, and haul Boston back to the closet where we finally find a blue hanger. When we emerge, Cooper is playing with both hangars. "Mom, I want two hangers, tooooo!" I grit my teeth and think of the wisdom of Bill Cosby who said, "Parents don't care about JUSTICE! They just want QUIET!!" I find Boston another hanger. Both kids giggle for about 30 seconds until the hangers become weapons. At this point I push the difference of their developmental status and suggest to Boston that he go fishing with his hangers off of his bed and try to hook toys. (Cooper can't compete in this yet since he doesn't know what fishing is anyway.) He is elated with this idea and Cooper and I dont' see him again until I finish putting clothes away. So, basically the morning is spent refereeing as I get ready and finish laundry and ironing, with story breaks for when the tension is just two much.
Ah, 11:30 at last. We all go downstairs for some table time. Cooper gets strapped into his high chair with some paper and crayons where Boston can't bug him. Boston is up at the table with his paint set and Lightning McQueen coloring book. I turn on a mix CD that includes "Takin' Care of Business", "My Boyfriend's Back", and "Natural Woman"(mostly because I love it when Boston sings along to that one) while I boil the Mac N Cheese and fix myself a turkey sandwich. When it's done Boston loves it and Cooper decides that although he loved it last time, this time it is worse than pigs' feet and he'd rather fling it with his toddler spoon. Luckily, this child loves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with milk. (Neither of my other two would have touched such an easy to make meal at this age, so even though he wouldn't eat the mac n cheese, I coo to him about what a good baby he is.)
When Boston is half done, Cooper is up to his elbows in jelly, and I, mid-chew, have finally turned the page on my book club book that I need to finish by tomorrow, the phone rings. It's Leslie. She is sitting in the office at school and needs me to bring her some new clothes right away because the sprinklers accidentally came on at recess and she is soaked. I hesitate as I look at the jelly monster sitting across from me and tell her we will be there as soon as we can.
After the clothes delivery is visiting teaching, then Cooper's nap. Naptime has been kind of funny lately because Cooper always gets a story read to him first. Boston wants to hear the story, too, but if he is in the room Cooper is mad at him and won't settle down when I put him in his crib. (Plus Boston often gets his own story read to him as soon as Cooper is asleep.)So I tell Boston to go play about eight times during the story, on average. Today he obeyed a little better. He crouched down outside the bedroom door, kind of behind the rocker so Cooper couldn't see him, and just listened to the story. This would have worked great except every other picture he came barrelling in, "WAIT! I want to see the kitty! I want to see the sheep!" (Even though he has heard this story hundreds of times and wouldn't have chosen it for himself in a million years.) Poor kid. It was just too cute, and Cooper didn't seem to mind today. He went to sleep just fine, and I emerged from the bedroom wanting to spend some time with Boston and Dr. Seuss. But by then, Boston remembered that he gets to watch cartoons for a while when Coopy goes to sleep, so on with Little Bear, off with Mom.
But that is what gave me a chance to write this! Can you just even wait to see what tomorrow is like? Huh, can ya?