At An Ungodly Hour

I know there are people out there who get up early so they can get things done. Housework, writing, getting lunches ready… morning’s a productive time for those people. This might lead one to believe that I, too, should have lots of time for writing on here these days, what with my children getting me up ridiculously early, but it’s just not so.

On Wednesday morning, Simon got up at 3:00. UP- as in, he was sitting on the couch, then playing on the living room floor, andgenerally not going back to bed. I tried to get some more sleep, but there’s no way I can really sleep when my kid’s up alone. Yesterday was even worse- 2:00. He manages to fall asleep on the couch by around 6:00, but by then Isaac’s awake, so I’m up anyway- and Simon doesn’t get to sleep much longer, either.

What’s the problem? Well, there’s the move, which is bound to throw a guy off, even if it’s a bit of a delayed reaction. Then there’s the “sleep begets sleep” rule; if he has one bad night and doesn’t get a nap to make up for it, he’s guaranteed to have another bad night*.

He’s sleeping in this morning; it’s now 7:00 and I haven’t heard a groan/moan from him yet. Isaac, however, picked up some of the slack and got me up at 5:45. What a team!

I wish I could just go, “well, I’m up anyway, might as well get a start on my day!” Maybe if I’d had a decent sleep in recent memory, I’d do just that. There’s always plenty to do. Instead, I flake out on the couch and try to close my eyes and doze off, even for just a few minutes at a time.

I’ve done a few posts on Adventures In Home Ec, though not too early in the morning- that would just come out an incoherent mess (more so than any of my usual rambles). Other than that… this is what you get, folks.

A few nights ago I had a dream that my aunt was telling me about this fabulous night she’d had, 9 hours of totally restful sleep… and I cried. In the dream, I broke down crying because I was so jealous. Now, this is my aunt who in reality hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since about 1981, but there you have it.

I’m too damn tired to come up with a conclusion to this post that doesn’t leave things hanging, so

and by bad night I mean trouble getting to sleep, night terrors and waking up at an ungodly hour.


Have you ever had a perfect conversation just fall into your lap? Maybe not a whole one- even just a short exchange where the person you’re talking to just walks right into what you were getting at, and you get to deliver a punchline… even if it was borrowed from a movie. I had it happen yesterday, and it was greeeat.

If you’ve seen “50 First Dates,” you’ll know where this is going. Don’t spoil it for everyone else, OK?

I was talking to Madelyn (brother’s girlfriend) about… OK, I actually have no idea how we got to talking about things that look like penises (eg- pork tenderloin looks disturbingly like horse penis). In any case, she mentioned that she’s once seen an excited walrus at Marine Land.

Me: Did you know that the walrus has the second-largest penis of any mammal?

Madelyn: Really? What’s the first?

Me:  … AJ.*

The conversation went on from there, but that was pretty much the high point of my day. Yeah, well, it wasn’t an especially spectacular day. Last night wasn’t so hot, either. Isaac woke up crying… well, I lost count of how many times. He had a stuffy nose. I was actually up, out of bed, and in the rocking chair in the living room with him three times, and I was up once with Simon, cuddling him on the couch for a few minutes when he was upset.

I’m a bit tired.

Ike’s a busy guy today, in spite of his lack of sleep. He’s slap-dragging himself all over the house (close the baby gates! Put the dog food up! Sweep the floors!), sitting up all by himself, and even trying to get his knees under him to do a “proper” crawl. He’s got snot runnung down his face, but whatever- it’s helping those Cheerios go down easier- the ones he just started eating last night (thanks, auny Kathy, for THAT mental image…). He slept for a very short while this morning, and I got to lie down with him. Only until he woke up and puked on my nice, clean sheets, though. And now he’s yelling at me.


…and trying to pull himself up on the furniture. My life is over.



*Yeah, you’re welcome, Sweetie.

AllisonWonder and the Great Mint Sauce Mishap

Great title for a kids’ book, eh?

Too bad it’s a description of my morning so far. It’s not quite 6:30 in the morning, and I’ve been up with Simon for over an hour. I’m not complaining; I was up with him three times the night before and got puked on twice, and so far nobody’s barfed down my arm, so I’m ahead on that count.

I’ve been semi-productive, too: I’ve made tea, had breakfast, and put the Fimo* things that I made last night in the oven. Also, I cleaned up mint sauce.

For anyone not familiar with mint sauce, it’s kind of a mint-flavoured water with teeny little bits of dark mint leaves floating in it… but tangier. Anyway, we had pot roast last night, and there was mint sauce involved. That was fine, but someone left a dish of it out on the counter overnight instead of dumping it in the Green bin and washing the bowl. Then I come along this morning, making Simon some “chonka miulk” (chocolate milk), and the chocolate-mixy-stuff falls out of the cupboard as I’m putting it back.



Fortunately for the rest of the kitchen, my face took the worst of it. The bottle hit the bowl, the bowl flew in the air, spinning, and mint sauce went everywhere. Little black bits of minty stuff stuck to everything- walls, countertops, my face, glasses and shirt. You’d think the smell would be alright, but it really wasn’t; food products that taste good just don’t always make you smell the way you want to (surprisingly enough).

Sooooo I cleaned up the counters, the CD case and camera case that were on the counter, my glasses, my face, and my arms, and I changed my shirt. Then I took Simon his chocolate milk…

…which started leaking all over the place. So back to the kitchen I went with the cup of milk, and I tried to get the lid off. It was stuck. Leaky, but stuck. I decanted the milk into another cup, and in the process got chocolate milk all over the place. So then I cleaned that up.

It’s now 6:41 and I just got Simon back to bed (which means Ike will be waking up any second…). I’m going to try to get a little more sleep if I can.

How’s YOUR morning een? 😉

8:28 a.m.


How is it possible that it’s only 8:30 in the morning*? About an hour ago Dad said to me, “There’s car racing on TV at 8:00, if you think Simon would be interested.” I stared at him. I blinked a few times.

“You mean, like, 8:00 tonight?”

“No- this morning.”

I was shocked. Stunned (yeah, I know what “stunned” means in NL- both definitions apply here). Aghast. “You mean it’s not even 8:00 yet?! NOOOOOOO!”

It felt like it should’ve been about 10:00. I guess my first clue should’ve been that mom and dad were, in fact, still at home and not on their way to the first of mom’s 3 services for the day. My brain, she don’a work’a so good on’a no sleep. Friends, it’s going to be a looooong day.

Oh- as for the rest of last night: I eventually got to bed after Ike fell asleep on his own- stuck his pacifier in his own face and everything. How… odd. Not that there was anything normal about last night, of course. Simon slept until some unreasonably early hour this morning; Isaac and I were already up. Isaac, who still DOES NOT want a pacifier at night. If I give him one when he’s crying (instead of his beloved BOOOOOOB), he settles for a second, and then starts twitching… and kicking… and sucking harder. Then: WAAAAAAH! Mommy, you tricked me!

So yeah, I’m tired. The good news is that it is officially less than 5 weeks until I see AJ again! I miss him so much that sometimes it gives me a stomach ache. It’s been worse since I saw him in August, and I imagine it’s only going to get worse as we get closer to his graduation. It’s reminding me of what it was like to be a kid with Christmas coming, except that instead of baking cookies and putting out the Nativity scene, I’ll be starting to pack boxes and looking into address changes/ new health cards, etc. Whoopee.

*Note that I did not say “8:30 a.m. in the morning.” I kind of laugh when people do that.


It’s 1:25 a.m., and here I sit at the computer with a hungry baby stuck to me. Why am I up instead of in bed with him? Because Simon is a sick little boy. Right- the one who’s not currently sucking my will to live along with his milk is the reason I’m up. OK, it’s not that bad, but it IS late… or early…

Simon had a really bad night last night. I was up with him several times when he woke up crying, and he felt very warm. I couldn’t give him anything for fever because he’s had cold medicine for his runny nose and cough that already had Tylenol in it, so I just cuddled my little human furnace until he was ready to go back to bed each time.

Today (actually, it’s yesterday now) was a baaaad day for him. Feverish all morning, and then a pretty good nap, but he woke up still feeling icky. I wanted him to eat something (since he hadn’t all day), so we went to Wendy’s and I got him his “chinken an’ fwies,” which he LOVES- and he didn’t touch it. He dipped his finger in the ketchup a few times and licked it, but that’s it. He didn’t even want “donnun” (doughnut), another of his favourites.

He perked up a little this evening, after watching “Yellow Submarine” and not having any supper. He went to bed without any problems (which is more than I can say for Isaac!) and went to sleep. I was expecting a good night.

Then Isaac woke me up. He did not want a pacifier, thank you very much, he wanted BOOB. He had his snack and went back to his own bed without ever really waking up.

Then Simon was crying and calling me, so I got up. He wanted a cuddle and something to drink, so we sat on the couch while he had apple juice, and then he went back to bed. Then Isaac got me up two more times- he’s got gas, I think. Then Simon was crying again, and he was quite upset, so up I got. He wanted to “go couch, go couch!” so I scooped him up. Just after we got out of his bedroom, though…


Up came most of his apple juice, all over the floor and all over me. Mom heard the SPLAT on the floor and came out to help me; she sat with Simon while I got him some gravol, cleaned up the mess and changed my shirt. Back to bed again.

    2:13 a.m.

Oops- he did it again. I was sitting here, typing what you just read, when he started crying. Unfortunately, this woke Isaac up, and he was looking around like, Whoa, it’s dark, man. I put him in his crib, anyway.

Back to Simon’s room. “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”



So I got him up again and knocked on mom and dad’s bedroom door; mom got Isaac and sat with both of the boys while I cleaned up Simon’s sheets and friends (only a few casualties: Tiegit, McQueen and Polar Bear) and while I folded SOMEONE’S laundry so I could move the other laundry into the dryer so I could put Simon’s stuff in the wash, and changed my shirt again. At, and least  I’m productive.

Mission almost accomplished: Simon is back in bed and asleep. The mess is cleaned up. The only thing is, Ike is still awake. He’s lying on my bed right now, watching the mobile adnd starting to get mad at me for leaving him there. He thinks he just had a lovely nap, and now it’s awake time.  

This is why we try not to waske Isaac up at night.  :/