And now the whole wide web world knows I buy generic tampons. So?
I'm Crabby. Capital C. We're on day 39 of the Big Stupid Effing Crib To Bed Transition, aka, the never ending debacle that would've ruined Summer 2011 if it weren't for three things. One being my mom and sister here to offer support and the occasional relief in the form of taking my kids off my hands for ten seconds so I can do something fancy. Like go to Walmart for more tampons. Two being the fact that the weather, at least, has been perfectly behaved and offered plenty of opportunities to float our worries away aboard the yachtoon. Three being Mikearitas. Obvi. It's been THIRTY NINE days since he left the crib, yall. That's beyond the reasonable expectation for adaptation to a new bed, right? No? Yes? RIGHT? The clock helped him sleep past 5am, so I must be thankful for that, because while 6:30am still sucks, it sucks a whole lot less than 5am. But otherwise, there's just a lot of frustrating chaos for everyone unfortunate enough to be in our house around, say, 8pm. Screaming and refusing to stay in bed, which progresses to smashing the rocking chair into the wall over and over again, and one time, knocking the whole mattress and side rail off the bed platform. And then screaming a lot. And then, the next day, being a whiny crackpot because SURPRISE SURPRISE he's kind of TIRED. And then there's the waking of the sister, who does NOT respond well to these wakings, and who is tired because of these wakings. And a tired Vivi is not the finest version of the Vivi. Tired, teething Vivi? Have mercy.
I know these things are minor. I know this will pass (and that when it does, the crazy inside me will miss that summer when my teeny little Bug lost his teeny little mind). I know it's all part of being a mom and wearing big girl pants. So when my overtired toddlers are whining and fighting tooth and nail over the Swiffer Sweeper while I'm scraping a banana out of the toaster (true story), I lock myself in the bathroom and count to 10. I find ways to unwind when the house is finally, blessedly quiet (watching Teen Mom and drinking the aforementioned Mikearita and just being glad I'm not Gary), and most of all .... I grab hold of those moments where we come up for air and everyone's smiling and my babies hug each other and my whole body warms with this feeling of "yes! This! This is how it feels to love them so much I want to squeeze them until they POP!" But this past month has been a challenge. And I felt like I needed to get that out there, because it's hard to blog about the everyday tidbits without being honest about the big picture, you know? And also because I feel like it needs to get said that sometimes kids go insane when you move them to a bed. Because sometimes, I go on Facebook and see a picture of somebody's 16 month old in his new big boy bed, just snoozing away like he's been there his whole life, and I think "WHY?!? WHY is this so hard for us?!" I know, call the whaaaambulance, right? But for anyone reading whose kid maybe turned into an angry chimp during the Big Stupid Effing Crib To Bed Transition .... you're not alone, kemosabe.