Forcing the matter

And the matter at hand is Miles's transition to a "big boy" bed. As of 7 am today, a crib is no longer an option. It's as if a monolith appeared in his room, and his bed linens became instant tools. (Quick note: I initially spelled linens as "lenins." Yikes, I must become more domestic and less intelligentsia, STAT.)

Upon inspection, the pillow and comforter had been turned into a make-shift launch pad, and I am assuming his string bean legs worked as the rocket boosters. Sadly, the landing strip was his face. Nothing like seeing your little man greet you at the door, teary eyed and with an instant shiner. As breakfast wears on, that shiner has grown bigger and more menacing looking. He's looking less toddlery and more thuggish.

What to do? We've got a real bed in the wings for him- an awesome hand-me-down trundle bed- but I am not ready for that jump- literally and figuratively. Luckily, his IKEA crib is convertible. So off one side will go today, and up a set of bumpers. That's the easy part. The trickier part will be figuring out what will have to be removed my the room. I'm thinking his full size drum kit may need to visit a different room- the same goes for the guitar, paints, markers, and on, and on, and on. Wish us luck!

Gripe, gripe, gripe

Yes, we have resorted to Gripe Water. Nights are getting longer and more stressful. I am desperately hoping this homeopathic route will give the little ladybug some relief. If not, we are on to an elimination diet (for me) and a trip to the doctor (for her). Last night, during a brief but intense crying jag, I relayed to youngster that sleep deprivation helps no one. I could swear I saw her roll her eyes ever so briefly.

Have I mentioned how tired I am these days? So very tired. In fact, I've napped the past two days without choice- meaning that my brain officially shuts off around 3 pm. Thankfully, those 45 minutes of power snoozing are making the early evenings more tolerable. However, one look at my face reveals the fact that I the far from rested. Caught my reflect earlier, would have sworn there was an errant geographical feature resting under my eyes. Sadly, those are just my bags steadily creeping toward my mouth. Perhaps they are headed in that region in an attempts to engage Penelope in some negotiations. Good luck with that.

My tank is near empty. Praise Jesus for maternity leave... because this is the only thing I can handle right now. Motherhood is more than a lifestyle; it's a livesstyle.

Sleeping Beauty

Maintaining such high levels of cuteness is exhausting, apparently.

Slumbering

It's nearing 8 pm, and the wee one has been asleep most of the day. We're talking a solid 98% of our waking hours she's been zonked, carving zzzzzzz's out of stone. Now I am getting anxious- when will the daily wake fest happen??? Seeing that I, yet again, blew off any chance of a mommy nap- this could easily turn into a long night. Wish me (and all those in ear range) luck. Little one's lungs seem to be amplified in the later hours.

In other sleep related news, Miles has now officially adopted de-robing as his new nap-time ritual. On three separate occasions, I had to go into his room and help him back into his diaper and pants. Three times. And once he was finally out- he was back down to only his t-shirt. As long as the diaper is empty, this is pretty fun.

The stuff dreams are NOT made of...

... third trimester woes. Can't seems to catch a break on the sleep front. Lying down is so uncomfortable at this point; I'd rather just wallow is a kiddie pool filled with jell-o. Lord knows I'd be good at that because I spend all night wrestling with my pillows and sheets.

Nothing works. My back pops; my hips burn; my legs are twitchier than hot chocolate-fueled kid on a snow day. I hate to complain, but maaaaaaaaaan, this is getting old. Perhaps I'd be less cranky if there were better shows on at 3 a.m. Having to choose between the Steam Shark and Abs Blaster 9000 infomercials are just as bad as having a splitting pain in your butt. Believe me, I can vouch for the comparison.

Being awake with no sounding board (once Jesse is out, he's out) means my mind is free to wander. I am now having mini-panic attacks about the 2.0's impending arrivals. We have so very much to do to prepare and such little time to complete them all. At this rate, she'd have to bunk in one of my larger handbags. She'd also have to wear my pre-pregnancy yoga clothes. Can you believe I haven't bought a single stitch of clothing yet?!? It's not that I don't want to, it's just that the timing hasn't been right. Pretty soon though, the timing will be mandatory.

My new favorite picture

FYI: Jesse is no longer Dada. He's become Daaadeee-Daaadeee-my-Daaadeee. : )

Zombie Mama has returned.

The only thing light about me these days is my sleep. Omniscient is the best way to describe my "restful" states, in that I hear every squeak and creak the boy makes. Typically, I am exhausted from my middle schoolers enough to sleep 2/3 through the night. Sadly, last night was an exception.

Like my car, I will coasting to work on fumes. My tank is empty; I will be operating on 90 minutes of sleep. On the flip side, Miles should be well-rested. He needed snuggle time from both mommy and daddy. I was able to get him down for the count at 3:30 with extra blankies, soft music, a binkie and back pats. It took me another 30 minutes to unwind.

And then it happened...

My alarm goes off. I woke up half an hour ago and start the drip on my coffee IV. Now I am off to find some tape; seems like the best way to ensure that my eyes stay open.

Miles pulled another all nighter on Friday, kind of. He went down at 8 pm but was ready to boogie at 2 am- and he stayed up through breakfast. Jesse covered that stretch, so guess it is only fair that I am pooped today. Ahhh, the joys of parenthood.