Trade Off

My children are both incredibly sleep sensitive. Which means that if they miss their naps or if they don't sleep as long as their overly-delicate bodies require, they turn into little children monsters. Ben becomes incredibly crazy, sometimes literally banging his head into a corner wall or experimenting with climbing up the wall. Ella becomes fussy and only comforted if I sit in a specific chair, hold her a specific way, don't move a muscle and declare from the rooftops that my whole world NOW REVOLVES AROUND HER. Also, I know for a fact they conspire ways to team up and torment their mother (because I've totally seen them "huddled up" and I'm sure Ben has some sort of power-point presentation up his sleeve that maps out the whole darn strategy. Ben is the brains behind the operation, and sweet Ella just wants to please her big brother. How did I become chopped liver in this equation? Must I remind them the number of hours I was in labor with them? Or the PAIN I endured to bring them in this world? MUST I? Because we have DVD footage of both deliveries, children. And I am NOT AFRAID to unveil them.)

***WINE BREAK***

And, exhale.

On these particular days, I can become flustered to the point of literally pulling my hair out when Dan walks through the door. Today was one of those days. If I had to grade my kids on their napping performance today, both children would score a "D+". And it's only in the generous D range because I'm writing this post-wine break. So instead of greeting Dan with a sweet hello darling this afternoon, it was something more along the lines of, "YOU MUST DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR CHILDREN."

Which I think I scared him because off the three of them went into Ben's room for a very, very long time.

But here's the thing. The bad news is that on days such as these I don't get much "down time" during the day, I don't get to enjoy a peaceful uninterrupted lunch or quiet respite before the afternoon/dinner madhouse rush. And usually on these days I choke down my dinner, battling indigestion with every bite I take as the children-monsters cry and complain and practically BEG for bedtime. Dan & I are lucky if we get one sentence in at the dinner table. Sometimes Ben is so wired-tired that he'll just fall out of his chair for no reason. You get the idea...a real Norman Rockwell kind of scenario.

And now, for the good news. It's 6:30, the children monsters have left and sleeping angels have taken their places. I'm now on my second glass of wine, the house is quiet, and Dan and I are in alone-time heaven. We're preparing to decorate the tree and have entire conversations where we will have the opportunity to complete our sentences and/or have entire thought processes. Who knows, maybe we'll even get crazy and stay up past 10.  People, stop the press because this is what we call a Christmas Miracle.

So everyone, please raise your glasses. Oh. Just me? Okay, my glass has been raised. Cheers! Here's to a new day tomorrow, where I will have the opportunity to do it all over again! I'm off to give Dan a well-deserved high five.

Nighty-night my sleeping angels. Sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.