The Non-Eventful Event
Since Claire's birth, I have been putting off the dreaded day when I would put her and Isaac to bed in the same room. Nightmarish visions of my future assaulted my mind: clutching two screaming children in my half-comatose state around 3am, a permanently early wake-up time for Isaac, more awakenings from Claire. But last night, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just try it. After all, she's starting to roll. That makes the basket-on-the-half-bookcase idea increasingly less brilliant. So I made the jump.
And what happened? Nothing.
I put Claire in Zack's room for bed. He said, "Mama?" when I came in. I just told him that Claire was sleeping in his room now. He fell back asleep, and Claire did too. She woke up at 4am to eat, but Isaac didn't budge. She woke up again at 6:30, and again, he didn't budge. She slept on my bed until 9am. Hallelujah! Let's just hope it keeps up. I think this little family is going to make it in this little house! :)
The Eventful Non-Event
Grocery shopping shouldn't be much of an event in my world, but I guess it kind of is. There is the anticipation of planning, the tension of bargaining, wheeling and dealing, and the sticker shock at the end. (okay, maybe that's a little dramatic). Zack has been kind of a grump today, but we were making it through all right, until we got to the dairy aisle.
Zack normally loves to help me inspect the eggs. Today, he was obsessed. We opened and closed the egg carton about 3 times before I finally told him we were all done, and placed the carton on top of my mound of groceries. Note: a toddler with an above-average reach and a full grocery cart are a bad combination. Isaac turned around, grabbed the egg carton by the lid, and gracefully vaulted a dozen eggs into the grocery cart.
Miraculously (I mean that), I did not lose my cool at this point. I remembered that eggs are only $1.88/doz this week, and that one day I would think this was really funny. I retrieved the eggs, cleaned up the goo, and got a new dozen. We went to check out (Isaac had been anticipating this --"goes, 'Beep!'"--all morning), and my son decided he was bored, done, finished, kaput, with grocery shopping.
"Have it! Have it! HAVE IT!" he demanded of every item I put on the belt. Then he threw the angel hair pasta (Irony? I think so) he had been clutching on the floor.
Well, I had had it. I was about to tell him that he would never, ever hold anything in his life again when an angel of mercy stepped in. He was the big, slightly-scary looking man who pushes the carts in from the parking lot. His name is Joe. He was checking out groceries for a handicapped woman, and he decided to help me out, too. He started talking to Zack, showing him pictures from the coupon book, and otherwise enthralling him until I got everything paid for.
"Thanks for entertaining my son," I said on the outside. (on the inside, I said thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!)
The rest of the morning was much better after that. And now I can laugh.