It’s been a hard day’s night, I should be sleeping like a log

The kids had a snow day on Friday and another one yesterday, making today a false Monday and putting an end to their four day weekend. Winter has officially hit Long Island.

The day began like any other weekday, some breakfast, packed lunches and snacks, strange outfits and running down the block while the bus patiently sits at the corner with its doors open, ready to swallow up reluctant children. The day is in full swing with lots to get done.

By the time the evening comes, I sit on the couch with a cup of coffee ready to relax, a reward to myself. Sometimes I make a mental list of all the little tasks that I was able to do and I feel accomplished. I sit there all “Carpe Diem” and “Zen-like” feeling proud of myself. You did a good job. There will always be more to do, but you chipped away at the ol’ block today! You owned it today.   It’s usually around this time it starts . . .

“Go to bed,” I say slightly above my typical speaking voice. I can hear pattering feet above me. I decide to make my trip to the bathroom a surprise inspection, popping my head into their rooms while they scramble like cockroaches to their beds and fumble under the covers.

It’s only a few minutes later, their little voices are carried throughout the house, usually giggling or arguing and lots of shushing one another.

“Get in bed,” I shout out, with hope that they will instantaneously feel tired and fall asleep.

Skipping over the dreadful details, the evening typically concludes with me explaining to myself, out loud, that I am not being unreasonable by asking them to go to bed. We did everything that had to get done, it was a packed day and now its time for sleep. Simple.

If the phone rings and I decide to have a conversation, not work related, not bill related, just a casual, shoot-the-shit phone call, I find myself every few minutes pulling the phone away to scream like I have a disease. I am forced against my will to frequently get off the couch to sort them all back into their correct rooms and beds.

Just a few of the things that fly out of my mouth almost every night.

  • I’m done!
  • I’ve punched out!
  • So much happened today. How are you not tired?
  • That’s it! You’re all going to bed a half hour earlier tomorrow.
  • Please just go to bed. Please.
  • Now you’re thirsty? Really?
  • GO PEE THEN!
  • It’s a school night and because I said so, that’s why.
  • The kitchen is closed!
  • NO! I have already tucked you in twice, now you’re on your own!
  • SLEEP!

Not sure what I am doing wrong here, but by the time they all settle down, I can’t even think straight. Any creativity to write or desire to read has been drained and I just sit there in shock.

children quote

Right.

 

Dear Blue Pajama Pants

My Dearest Blue Pajama Pants,

It saddens to me have to write this to you, but I fear that it is time we part ways. Lately you seem to be unwinding at the seems, frazzled and weak. It seems as though I have worn you thin and despite your best efforts, you can no longer provide for me the way you once did.

Indeed, we have been through it all together. I remember when we first met, that glorious night in the hospital. I had just given birth to my daughter and desperate to get out of that dreadful hospital gown. That is when you were presented to me, neatly folded and wrapped in soft white tissue paper, nestled inside a colorful bag. From that day forward I knew we would be close, I just felt it.

We shared countless nights walking the floor with babies, innumerable mornings spent coffee clutching. You always stuck around for the clean up too. Remember that one time we painted the house? You remember, it was late, we waited until after the kids went to bed with my husband. He rolled a stripe of sage green paint on you, right on the back. You thought you were done then, but not me, I still wore you proud. Countless mornings we spent together on the bus stop, it never not once bothered me to be seen with you.

Oh, but now my old friend, you have gone grey and lost color in places, you’ve lost your elasticity, and the holes are spreading. I’m afraid there is not much more you will be able to endure. They say, maybe one more washing. So, before it comes down to you completely unraveling, I will leave you now, as you still have your shape and your dignity. When I look back at photographs of us together I will always be filled with fond memories and adoration I have for you.

Blue pajama pants, its time for me to say goodbye. There will never be another quite like you. You will be missed dearly.

Your devoted friend,

Lisa ❤

photo (4)

Do you have a garment that devastated you to part with? How bad did you let it get?

This doesn’t look so bad, the back is filled with holes. Its not good.

Lock The Door

Some days my face is twisted with stress and my mind in spinning like a top. I am out of answers, dry of ideas and simply weak.  On those days your arms around me aren’t just a loving embrace, but my protection from all that I cannot fix.  I can hide my face in your chest and press the pause button, call a “time out” on life. You have an ability to sense when I cannot stand tall next to you as a partner. When I am fragile and run down, you don’t think twice or need to be asked, you instinctually know to carry me.  When I have a problem, you present a solution. When I am in trouble, I look for you to save me.  When we don’t have enough, you always get more.

When the chaos of the evening routine is in motion, you bring order. When tears swell up and slide down little cheeks, you can find laughter. You sharpen the pencils and break out the books to see them through their school work. You help dole out portions of a hearty meal to our little one’s hungry bellies and help pull their arms through their pajama shirts.  As bedtime draws near, you aid in scrubbing their little teeth clean and kiss them atop their head while pulling the blankets to their chin.

As nighttime arrives, our eyes are heavy and the day has ended, you are just starting to begin.  You collect your things and tie your laces, prepare your bag and get ready to leave.  One last kiss goodnight as you zipper your coat before it’s time to head out.  You walk down the stairs with your keys rattling in your hand and close the door behind you, for your day has just begun.  But before you start your car and travel to work and become  the person you need to be to do your job successfully, you always manage to take a second, even in the pouring rain or blistery snow, to turn around and lock the door. Of the many roles you play in our family, Dad, father, fixer, Santa, human toy, you always remember, without being asked, to be our protector.  You always lock the door.

My words will never be sufficient for the love and gratitude I have for you, so this will have to do.  With everything that I am and all that I stand for, please know that I love you deeply.

Now if you could just remember to take the garbage out with you!