But still... rotten parts, and just healthy venting...
So it begins:
I had to do the morning Sunday routine by myself, which means getting me and my 2 little kids dressed for church and out the door, before kids start showing up for the Sunday School class I teach (and I say before, because on this Sunday I did fail to be there on time, and I had kids and parents waiting in my classroom)
Before leaving for work Sam had instructed me to start the van about 20 minutes before I wanted to leave, and to go easy on the amount of DeIcer that we need to get doors open. He leaves.
Well, when I went to go start the van, I couldn't open the door to get in the van. So- DeIcer... oh yeah, it might be nice if Sam actually left DeIcer in the can, instead of using it all on his car.
So, after I threw the empty DeIcer at the house, said some un Jesus like words in my brain, and pulled and pulled- the van door opened. But now I was late, and still had to wait for the windows to semi unfreeze.
But not a bad afternoon. I got a lot of cleaning done. Cleaned my bathroom (hadn't been done in almost a month... yup December 6th was the last time I really deep cleaned it) and vacuumed, and I finally washed my kitchen floor (that has been a neglected task for so long I cannot even remember). And it was going to be a fun evening, with football, Franks Pizza, and friends coming over!
So, around 5 ish, Sam goes to get the pizza. And I'm making scrambled eggs for the kids (its so unfair to be a child and watch your parents eat the best pizza in the world). Well Campbell has recently started this wonderful habit of moving our kitchen stool around all over the kitchen. He gets snacks down (unapproved), goes to sink (wants to play in the water) and leaves the stool all over the place for Mommy to narrowly miss tripping over.
So, Campbell has moved his stool (his stool, ha ) to watch me scramble the eggs. We're talking, laughing, I go to move the eggs onto his plate, turn my back- and the next thing I know he's screaming and holding his hand back. Yup. He had put his little fingers on the burner.
Horrid mother. I know. How could I have let him stand basically unattended next to the stove? I'm still asking myself that.
I grab him, and the stool and we stand with his hand under cold water for several minutes. He immediately has little blisters on his fingers, but he's calmed down.
Its probably a good idea to mention that these 2 little fingers, just happen to be the exact 2 little fingers that he sucks... for comforting... for bedtime... for anything.
Well, our friends arrive, the night is progressing. And Campbell just starts screaming. His poor little fingers. That's the worst thing about burns, they just keep burning.
I wanted to put some burn cream on them, but this child has a meltdown, behaving like he is being tortured if you even attempt to band aid any wound he has. So we resisted. Instead we sat him in front of Veggie Tales, and had him keep his finger in a cup of water.
He did pretty good. But was understandably upset.
I'm leaving out another important fact. My son usually takes a 3-4 hour nap a day. He did not today. So around 6:30 he's besides himself.
We get him ready for bed, and Sam had to stand by the crib trying anything to get him to comforted enough to fall asleep (because remember- he sucks the fingers he's burned)
It was torture.
So... once Campbell fell asleep we decided it would be better to have Mason sleep in our room. That way Campbell wouldn't wake her up/ she wouldn't wake him up.
Mason wakes up around 1:30 am.
And doesn't go back down.
First problem- I hadn't nursed her before we originally put her down. I'm attempting to wean her (that attempt is now over)
Second problem- we sleep with our door open, so when she woke up and saw it open she figured someone was coming to get her.
Third problem- she realized I was in the room.
So, I got her up, rocked her, and tried to get her to sleep in bed with me.
She wanted to sit up, pull my hair, laugh, try and stand.
So I moved her to the pack n play and waited in the living room for her to stop screaming.
Didn't wait long enough, and when I opened the door she started screaming again.
Back to the couch.
After about 10 minutes, I figured she was asleep. I was able to sneak back into my bed. Only to have her start screaming about 15 minutes later.
By 3 am, her screams hadn't stopped.
So, on Sam's advice, I nursed her. And she nursed.
Then Sam moved her pack n play back to her and Campbell's room.
And so I laid her down.
Not a peep.
She sure does love her little brother.
To all of my friends who have children who don't sleep well at night (and to those friends who don't rely on coffee as a energy fuel) I have great sympathy for you. How awful. In Mason's short year of life, we haven't had this kinda night in 7 months.
I suppose this is just practice for when little Henry is born. 3 months until my sleep is interrupted again.
Mason and I after our sleep deprived night...