We had a slight change of plans... originally our flight itinerary was that we would have flown home this past Thursday, but then we spent a week and a half being sick and miserable. My brothers didn't want to come visit and be exposed to our nasty yuck, so they stayed away and offered the foot the bill for us to stay a little longer so they can visit when we're not so snotty.
When I talked to Nathan about this plan, he decided that he couldn't stand it anymore and bought a ticket to join us for a few days. (I was able to transfer Evan's return ticket to Nathan and buy Nathan a one-way to get here! Yay! Now Evan is Nathan's "lap child".)
Isn't he sweet? It's not really about seeing anyone else. I mean, that's a bonus of course, but it's mostly about me. He misses me. Sure he has lots of work to do, but he's lonely bumping around in that big, quiet house. His boys are here and he has no one to play with.
So we're finally starting to feel better, but now the chickenpox are looming. We shouldn't actually be coming down with that until after we get back home, though.
And my nights have been... unspeakable awful. I've never had such a long run of bad sleep. It's so bad it's almost non-existent. I mean, Evan slept terribly for his entire first year, but now this is double. Dealing with not one but TWO very poor-sleeping little guys by myself is so stinking hard. What is wrong with my kids? I know babies are notorious for disrupting sleep, but this is beyond ridiculous. Am I doing something wrong? Is something wrong with them? People ask me if Andrew sleeps through the night and I want to laugh in their faces. Seriously. Don't ever ask me that. I would be happy if he only woke up twice (or even three times) and went back to sleep easily each time. He wakes up a lot. A lot a lot. He won't even lay still and nurse or let me sleep while he nurses. He's just weird about it. It makes me crazy.
Evan usually sleeps well, but with this horrid cough that he has, plus being in the same room with me and Andrew, he's waking up too.
I'm giving up on the idea of sleep ever again. Sleep, I'm talking to you, bite me.
But! Aren't they cute? How blessed am I to have two cute and adorable little stinkers?
It's a darn good thing they're cute. God knew what he was doing, is what I'm saying.
Evan is becoming more and more of a trouble-maker every day. Right before my eyes he's gone from baby to TROUBLE in a few short weeks. Today he helped himself to a big hunk of bread and hid behind the couch to eat it. He had a pretty good idea of what I'd say (isn't the answer to every request "no" in a toddler's world?) so he didn't bother to ask.
He operates an iPhone like a pro. He also did something weird to the TV and we had not idea how to fix it. He makes the computer screen go wonky.
He got together with a similarly sized second-cousin and together they plotted to rule the world.
Actually, they mostly bickered about who gets to rule the world. Same difference.
Evan was introduced to Sesame Street yesterday. His mind was completely blown by the sheer possibilities of entertainment from the flickering screen. The concept of "it's over" meant nothing to him, so he did what he does best-- pitched a huge tantrum.
Ya know, I think I would feel ever so much better about the frustrations of life (LIKE NOT GETTING TWO CONSECUTIVE HOURS OF SLEEP EVER EVER EVER) if I could just throw myself on the floor and scream. If I didn't have to deal with all the self-control garbage I'm trying to teach my toddler, I might just plain be happier in the long run.
But I don't get that option. So instead, I'll vent it here for you to read.
BUT THEY'RE CUTE! That's my mantra. That's what I repeat to myself as I fall in to bed over and over and over each night...
Whatever get's me through the night.