alone

I'm home alone.  In my house.  With nobody asking for a snack, nobody upstairs fighting sleep of any sort, nobody to tell me to get out of my bathrobe and put down the chardonnay and do something, for heavens sake.  And I know I should be all "miss my babies and sad and such!" but really?  I'm kind of like, YES.  YES YES YES.  I needed these few hours of quiet time, friends.  Poor Mabel's been a mess.  Tooth one pushed through the beginning of the week, tooth two last night.  Ear infection, again.  Sleep?  HAHAHA DREAM ON.  She doesn't want to go to sleep, she doesn't want to stay asleep.  The other night, and I couldn't tell you which one because my short term memory's gone to shit, I actually googled the hours of my local Starbucks at 3am because I was thinking if they were open, I may as well load up Miss No Sleep Ever and drive on down (because, suddenly, the car is about the only place she wants to sleep) (right, who is she and what has she done with the original MG?) and get my vanilla latte and just get the day started.  Because, really, is there anything worse than doing all you can do to console an unconsolable baby at 3:00am when you're so tired your limbs aren't really functioning correctly and your mind is reeling with all you need to do when the sun comes up and you're nauseated at the thought of all of it because you know your sleep deprived body will just be like, NO?

I don't even know what I was talking about.  SEE?  Memory.  Shot.  Case in point: this morning, I rushed us through the getting ready routine, fought to get teeth brushed and hair combed and sippies filled and the like.  Eat your cereal! Find your boots!  No the other boots!  Wrong foot!  Find your vest!  Snap it up!  Baby!  Crying!  Gah!  Into the car at 8:57am.  Deep breaths in the car, answer 100 questions about when can we go sledding and where is daddy and when will he be home and what does that sign mean and why is that bird in the AIR?  Turn into the dance studio parking lot at 9:11am .... and it was THEN, at that highly inconvenient way-too-late moment, that I remembered there was no dance class this week at all.  Try explaining that to an excited three year old girl decked out in a tutu, why don't you.  Know how she thanked me?  By pooping her pants in Starbucks, where I took them to get donuts, because I kind of owed them something, don't you think?  I totally deserved to clean a poopy pair of dance tights in a Starbucks sink (just tossed the Dora underpants, because Imeanreally.)  In her defense, she had told me while we were in line that she had to "go".  And I told her I'd take her as soon as we ordered.  And then, this should come as no surprise, I totally FORGOT.  Until five minutes later when her eyes got huge and it all came back to me and I was just like "OMG PLEASE JUST BE PEE."  No.  No, sirrrreeeeee.

We did redeem the day.  I took the bigger kids to Farmington, the town 45 minutes down the road with a Target and a Slobby Blobby (Hobby Lobby, but isn't Anderson's take on it way more fun?) while Mabel stayed back with Mommo.  It was fun, reconnecting with my bigger two sans Ergo and bottle stops and "shhhhhh, baby's sleeping!" refrains.  We sang along to country songs (Vivi does an impressive Tornado, I tell you) and cracked up at the creepy doll heads in Slobby Blobby and picked out a toy apiece at Target and stopped at the Colorado sign to take a picture, which totally shocked and unnerved my eldest, Mister By The Book.  We stopped!  On the side of the highway!  And GOT OUT!  I let them not nap on the way home.  It was just all so good.  I needed that time alone with those two, and I hadn't even realized it until we went and did it.  And also, can I brag?  Vivi had $40 in birthday money from her great grandparents.  She had my permission to blow it however she wanted to in Target.  She picked out a little pink cash register toy, asked if she had "more moneys", and told me she wanted to give the rest to Anderson so "him can have a toy, too." Heart, melt.

And to further this Saturday redemption?  Date night.  Oh, do we need a date night.  We've been like coworkers this week, J and I, passing the baby back and forth and mixing bottles and chasing kids back into beds and loading and unloading the dishwasher twice a day and cleaning up messes that pile up at an alarming rate before our very eyes.  And we are putting a stop to that co-working tonight.  Dinner out with friends and plans to go to a BAR after.  I mean, we'll still be home by 10:30, but then?  WE GET TO SLEEP ALL NIGHT.  OMG, yall.  I can't even.

So, home alone.  E! News is on, no Disney.  I just ate a handful of potato chips out in the open, as opposed to huddled in the corner of the (dark!) pantry where nobody will find me and beg a chip or two off of me.  (And even if I'm not found, they'll smell it on my breath when I sneak out of the pantry and be like "YOU ATE CHIPS MOM GET ME CHIPS TOO.")  I'm in my bathrobe, the one nobody wiped their nose on two seconds after I donned it.  And, you know, wine, glass two.  Because no risk at all of anyone falling and cutting their face open and needing a ride to urgent care!  And the dog?  The dog is just beside himself with the luxury of being the only child for a moment or two.  He's not usually allowed past the gate at the top of the stairs.  Not only did I let him through the gate, I encouraged him to follow me down the hall to my room, and I looked the other way when he slinked up the side of our bed and made himself cozy on top.  Knock yourself out, pal.

Time to go put on makeup.  Without Doc McStuffins blaring in the background.  And I will not share my bronzer brush with anyone!  Wheeeeeeeeeee!