One of These Days. . . .

I'm going to learn to keep my mouth shut.

Yesterday, I made a point of saying that it was good to be back to our "normal" existence on Facebook.

Yeah, that was wrong. On so many levels.

After a meeting last night, we came home to a quiet house. Our babysitter had done an amazing job. Caroline was in bed. . . .sleeping. She had given her a bath, and gotten her hair dried and teeth brushed.

This is one excellent babysitter!

We paid her in cash & cinnamon rolls. She "pinged" me back on Facebook a few minutes after getting home, and told me that the next time I could just pay her in cinnamon rolls. So, they must've been good. (They were.)

After we got everything else settled down, Mark went off to bed. I hung out for a while -- online, of course. Then, I got ready to go to bed. On my way, I stopped in Caroline's room to pick out her clothes for this morning. . . and to put the gate up in her doorway.

[Editor's note: Yes, we gate Caroline in her room at night. We're not certain what she might do, or where she might go, if she would happen to start roaming around at night. I'm fairly certain she'd come to our room -- but since she's started "stealing" chocolate off the kitchen counter, we figure anything could happen.]

Sorry. Just had to clarify. I can go on now. . .

So, my attempt to pick out her clothes and gate her in woke her up. Suddenly I heard, "Hi, Mommy!" and saw two little arms reach out to me. I tried to comfort her, and lull her back to sleep. It took longer than usual -- which should have been a clue. It wasn't.

I got her quiet -- and put the baby monitor back up on her window sill. It's important to note that it had previously fallen off onto the floor -- and I believe it's microphone was hindered. (This really will be important later)

So. . . . I get to my room, get on my PJs, and crawl into bed. Just as I was settling down to sleep, she started crying. Mark and I both went out to comfort her. He eventually got her quieted, and sent me back to bed.

Within minutes, she cried out, coughed, and started yakking up whatever she'd eaten for dinner. (How did I know? The baby monitor, of course!)

I went out -- helped Mark get her steadied, cleaned up, and settled down. Mark put her back in bed, and sent me back to bed. Some time later -- I think I fell asleep. I'm not sure. She started yakking again. This time, Mark got her into the bathroom in time. . . and again sent me back to bed.

So, it was a short night. It was equally short for both Mark and me -- because he'd gone to bed a few hours before me, and we kind of "evened" each other out.

I'm not sure when -- but he came back to bed, and we all slept the rest of the (brief) night. When it was time to take Edison to school, my middle-of-the-night promise to take him, and then go to work after taking him? Yeah, that was not going to happen.

Mark took Edison to school, and came home to an awake girl. They both came in to say "good morning" to me -- and she promptly cuddled up and fell asleep. . . on my ankle.

We slept for another hour (all three of us -- me, with a weighted down ankle) and eventually got ourselves upright sometime between 9 and 10.


Why did I say "One of These Days?" Isn't it obvious?

I have got to stop saying things about how much I crave a "normal" week. I've got to stop lamenting when things are out of kilter, and I don't get the "ME" time I seem to think I need so badly. And I do need "me" time. . . but when I start to rejoice at what appears to be a "typical" week where some "me" time is going to happen? That's when it all falls apart.

So, one of these days, I'll learn to keep my big yap shut. I'll rejoice in the mundane, as well as the divine. I'll not get flustered over "bumps in the road" that may mean an adjustment in my personal schedule.

And until then?
You all may need to walk me through a few more baby steps.