This morning was pretty much a blur to me, I'm not going to lie. Last night, no one really slept: Mary was up sick, and when she gets sick to her stomach, she freaks out like no one's business, which woke Anna, who was really annoyed to be roused from sleep (I don't know where she gets that, truly...), which woke Lily, who figured that 1 a.m. was as good a time as any to party like a rock star. We got the kids back to bed (for the moment - Mary would be up and down all night, unfortunately) and that's when I noticed the strangest humming sound outside.
It sounded kind of like the world's largest generator, and it was this weird woo-ing, humming sound. If you Google "strange humming noises outside at night" be prepared to read the world is ending, by the way. Which I did. I'm not one to don my tinfoil hat easily but this was straight up weird. You could hear it from every room in the house but it was impossible to pinpoint, except that it was coming from outside. I woke Tim and he was equally clueless. It may be aliens. Regardless, I didn't get to sleep until after 2.
This morning I was greeted by groggy children and a queue of every twin sized bed sheet we own, crumpled dirty in front of a washer that already contained a pillow and comforter. Good morning, Mommy! Mary and Anna camped out in the living room, Mary wanting to only eat dry crackers and the healthy as a horse Anna more than willing to demand her fair share of the bounty. Since the evening sick festivities had started well before midnight the night before, I hadn't even showered and was looking forward to nap time for my chance to re-humanize.
There was just one problem. Lily. When nap time rolled around, she was bright eyed and grinning, looking ready to army crawl the Providence Marathon. So I did what any sane mother would do - popped her in her high chair seat, gave her some toys, dragged the chair into our postage stamp sized bathroom (seriously - one bathroom for five people and it's not even a decent size) and gratefully jumped into the hot water. Bliss.
That brought me to the second unforeseen issue. I had two kids trying to nap and a baby who had grown bored with her toys approximately .05 seconds after getting them and had started grizzling. I poked my head out of the shower, and though I was blind as a bat without my glasses, the blurry lump that was my third born appeared to grin. I smiled at her and continued washing my hair. That's when I remembered six month olds are crap with object permanence and Lily was definitely not okay with the shower once again forever consuming her only source of food. For the next few minutes, I felt like a Jack in the Box as I finished the world's fastest cleansing ritual. Poke head out, see blurry face contort into what I'd assume was a smile, resume shower. Repeat when hollering began again. Note that Anna was taking advantage of my decreased attention to resist sleep and begin ritually bringing every toy she's ever owned back into bed with her. (And that's why her room still has a gate on the door.)
After I was sufficiently human again, I popped on my glasses and realized the floors in the house were absolutely in need of sweeping. Lily was not ready to admit that I was not going to go away again, and so with one hand I dragged a broom from room to room while the other pulled along my daughter, cooing and babbling in her high chair. She found the whole thing fascinating, and I was reminiscent of the elderly woman who used to follow me on my dining room rounds when I worked at a nursing home, the one who would watch me set or clear the tables and crow "Gee, I love to watch other people work!"
I have to clean the bathroom next but I just may wait until Lily is actually asleep for that. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to shut your infant up with you in a tiny room with Clorox and other cleaning agents until she's at least seven months old.
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