It's time to clean up and get milk! The boys pretend they don't hear me but from the living room I hear the littlest one shriek and she comes running around the corner to make sure I get her a cup, too. A new development. The boys get cups of milk at bedtime, now she demands one too.
Even though she doesn't drink it.
It annoys me to get her the cup of cold milk. I don't fill it all the way maybe just three ounces but it's three ounces out of the already depleting gallon and it makes the grocery visit that much more urgent. The third small mouth to feed somehow grows our grocery bill not by 1x but by 3x. How does this happen? I am not sure. But the proof is in our grocery budget.
Looking up from the kitchen into the living room I see two kids still playing, not cleaning. I start counting. If you aren't done by the time I get to 60 you won't get the sticker tonight. The oldest looks up, hears me counting. I can tell from the look on his face he's weighing calling my bluff. But he's scared enough of the dreaded "no iPad time" that he starts moving. His brother lags. Content to watch his brother clean and take ten minutes to put one thing away. The threats continue ... D if you don't help you'll have to watch him play iPad on Saturday. He moves a bit faster.
Somehow the room gets picked up, the milk is poured, and we head upstairs. To earn the sticker the boys have to make sure their room is picked up too. Sometimes, if I care less about the living room, I just send them upstairs to clean before I get there. Today they clean and I start the bath.
Julia! Bath time! In toddles the youngest and most eager. Thrilled that she understands what's happening. So content with the schedule and knowing exactly how this will all go, in she rushes! Here mama! Here! She says, like a kid being counted for class. Look at me mama! I know what you said! I know what to do! Good job sweet girl! Lets get ready for bath. Ok mama!
Stripped down she picks up her discarded clothes and trash and deposits them correctly. She rushes back in beaming. Here mama!
And into the tub she goes.
On the days where she gets any amount of time alone in the tub she is well pleased. She lays down and blows bubbles. Uses cups and mixes water without fear of an older sibling ripping them out of her hands. The boys have yet to adjust to her new and recent personhood. Still treating her like a baby they just take things from her, and it's made her the territorial two-year-old who is covetous of items and hordes things.
It's done mom. The oldest says. Get ready for bath. Can I put on the sticker? I peer around the jack-n-jill corner to their room. Sure. You peal it let David put it on. Off he trots, his shoulders drooping that he has to share the fun part with his brother. But he accepts my decree.
Soap on her hair and she starts scrubbing diligently. The boys arrive and splash and disrupt. Soap on their heads. She stands up and starts scrubbing their heads, peering down and looking into their faces to see if they are as amazed at her helping as she is. They do not care how their hair gets washed. I don't believe they care if their hair gets washed. But she loves helping them. Being included. Being treated like a person.
I am in awe of her ability and desire to clean herself and their exceptional lack of give a hoot. She's just two. The oldest is near seven. I have to walk him through the steps almost every day. He's a step closer to showering solo now. Some nights we do that. But while he's the oldest he doesn't like being left out of the group. We are a unit, me and these kiddos. We do things together.
For now.
First trolls out and in their hooded towels. Ordered to get their pajamas and teeth brushed. She comes out last. She wants to brush her teeth too. Climbs up onto the stool. I brace myself. She refuses to open her mouth. No! Me! Me! But she won't brush her teeth. She'll just hold it because while she wants to be included in this event ... she hates toothpaste and actually brushing her teeth.
Open. She doesn't. She shrieks and on the largest opening I get the brush in and we brush and she whines. We don't do a thorough job but I hope it's better than nothing. As with most things with kids I say a prayer her teeth won't fall out and hope for the best.
The boys are lagging. The timers on their toothbrushes are longer than she tolerates and there is the rinsing that must occur and David must flatten his hair. This takes copious amounts of water now. Why? I do not know. Does he look at Grady's cow lick and think ... not me! And want to make sure his is flat? We don't know. I do know that when describing friends at school he ends with ... and he has really flat hair.
Ten or twenty minutes later, more threats, more bribes, some screaming from the two year old as we wrestle into our pajama shirt and carefully comb our hair baby fine, super tangled, multi-colored hair ... pick books boys.
D doesn't like picking books most days. We have endless choices and it's too overwhelming. He finds one on the floor and throws it at me. He starts climbing the ladder or looking for cars. David come sit with me we have to read. Whining. I don't want to read. We read every day. Come sit down. Now some days he sits in my lap easy peasy. But others he doesn't. Eventually he's in my lap and when sister notices ...
Noooo! Noooo! My book! Me! She has a book in hand and she's actively pushing him out of my lap. She tries to sit on his lap. She tries to take the book out of my hands. Some days I have to physically pick her up and put her somewhere else, reading loudly over her cries. Some days I have to put her in time out. She does not like to share story time. She thinks she should be the only one in Mama's lap. Some times if I'm feeling like oh my gosh make her stop I'll sit differently so she can have one knee and he can have the other. But some days if I'm feeling like no I'm his mama too and he deserves to have me read one book to him - just him - sometimes I put her somewhere else.
David - as my middle - gets shuffled sometimes and I feel it. Want to make it right sometimes.
I ask D to point at things. I'll read a line and then ask him what I said. Retention. Retention. Understanding what we've read. We do this dance every day.
His story finished she comes back. Me mama! Me! Read mama! Forcibly puts the book in my hands and leans her head back against my chest, snuggling in. She loves reading, loves sitting on laps. We read either an Usborne "That's not my ..." book or "Ladybug Loves" or "Frogs Friends" or "Butterfly's Lesson". She's started bringing me the bigger picture books. But she really only likes board books still.
D, in a characteristic act of empathy and sweetness, found a Goldenbook about Elsa and Anna that she must have been given as a gift. But it's a longer story so it had sat forgotten. She recognizes Anna - a character she responds to - and she loved the book and sat through the whole thing, pointing to pictures and putting her face real close to look at things.
When it's G's turn I have to remind him to pick a book he can read to me. He picks books from the top shelf. He reads one to me easily, I make a mental note to order the next level. I am amazed by all he's learned. I am amazed they had him reading and writing and adding last year. Kinder isn't what it was for me. But he's thrived and loved it and he can do it so I'm glad we do things this way. I'm glad math is different, because he's getting it. He's doing simple algebra already and understanding. He's writing his own word problems and understanding. If you ask him what 16+4 is he'll say something like ... well 4+6 is 10 and 10 + 10 is 20. So 20. I could not do that at 6.
Where he gets messed up is non-linear thinking. But he will. We are so proud.
Now it's my turn to read to G. We finished Harry Potter weeks ago and he wants to start the next ... but he had nightmares after we finished the scary chapter and the second is scarier and tenser for longer. And kids disappear. So. We wait.
There is time, after all.
We pick up Magic Treehouse #10, Lunchtime with Lions. Where there is enough action to be interesting but it's quick and not scary, and there are facts which appeal to him. And there are always ten chapters, which he enjoys knowing how many are left. And the skill we are growing is retention. Comprehension. Now where did we leave off G? And he'll tell me or he won't.
I point out to him in a few months he'll be reading these to me. He looks skeptical. And maybe like he doesn't want to.
Time for bed. And more bribes more threats. David don't get out of bed, please. Grady don't talk too loud. I'll be back in a few minutes. Say goodnight Julia.
Best part of the day! They all shout and Julia starts climbing the ladder.
She tackles her brother as he lays on his pillow and gives big hugs. Says "night-night." I lift her out of his bed and place her on David's. She tackles him too and gives him kisses. David is her friend. Grady is her idol.
Night-Night! She says with something else unintelligible behind it. Maybe bubba? Or brothers? Or boys? Or their names? Bye Felicia?
No one knows.
Off into her own room she grabs yet another book. Turns on her sound machine. I get her in her sleep sack. Get her a sip of water. Either read the additional book quickly or don't. We sit and rock in her chair. I sing to her. She babbles and talks to me. Sometimes I know what she's saying sometimes I don't. It doesn't really matter. In my head I hope we always do this last part. The part where she talks to me, just us, after we've parted from the boys.
I know that she won't.
She starts saying bed and pointing. I lift her into her crib and cover her with her blanket. Give her her doll. Night-night. She lets out a big sigh and I leave.
Back to the boys room. Calmer now from their 15minutes solo, lights off, they are both in their own beds. Thankfully. Many nights I come back and David is in G's bed, and they are whispering secrets and conspiring to make me lose my mind. I move him and always admonish him. But I don't really care. Secretly I like it. They are best friends. I hope they always will be.
I know for seasons they won't.
I lay down with David and chat a bit. Ask him questions. Sometimes he talks. Sometimes he rambles and is incoherent. Sometimes he talks about things that happened at school that have weighed on him, but he hasn't told me yet. I ask him about his friends, he says they were nice or they weren't. I tell him he is a sweet boy and ask him how much I love him.
To pluto, he says, half annoyed with the question that I ask all the time. Yes. To pluto. Because the moon is too close.
I stand up and peer over the rails at Grady. More kid than child. More person than toddler. His problems are different. His needs different. I know he's jealous I lay down with David still, but he rarely ever asks me to cuddle with him. His pride is so large. Some days I'll climb up with him, some days I don't. It's hard to navigate. How much does mama love you? He grins super wide because he never gets tired of this frequently asked question. To pluto. He whispers. Yes. I ruffle his hair. Give him his medicine. Say a prayer we're doing the right thing. Pray that my good enough parenting is good enough.
And I walk out. Downstairs to a silent house because my husband is traveling. I'm glad there weren't that many tears today or sad that there were. I'm mad at myself that I yelled at my kids too much or I'm ambivalent that I didn't. I think on what's on tap for tomorrow or I bemoan the empty (again) refrigerator and what we'll have for breakfast. I contemplate folding the (always) present laundry or cleaning the kitchen. I settle on the kitchen and then stop my day because I'm tired.
I want to remember these bedtimes because the day is coming when I'll just tell them to go get ready and I'll show up at the end. I think about how much has changed in the two years since she was born and it's already so different. There are fewer tears, fewer tantrums. We still have bad nights. They are fewer.
And while doing bedtime alone is sometimes sad or hard my kids and I have a routine and get along just fine. Though we miss our Daddy. That's true all day. And by Tuesday G will start asking when his Dad will be back. And Thursday in the car Julia will start singing "Daddy daddy daddy daddy" at top volume. And inexplicably D will have meltdowns Wednesday because something in his emotional equilibrium will be off. His wrestling bucket will be depleted.
And then Daddy will be home and he will be home for soccer practice and bedtime on Friday (hopefully) and balance will return.
Then he'll leave again on Sunday ... and the dance goes on.
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