The A List

We had a wee bit of snow last night into this morning (maybe four to five inches of light, powdery stuff), but the public school district that governs Das Big Boy’s preschool made an early call, so we had a snow day.

Das Big Boy slept in, and Little Liebchen woke me up for the second morning in a row with the sweetest, clearest little, “Mama,” and big grin.

“Hold on!” You say, “I thought you were done co-sleeping.” We are. But when she wakes up at five or six am, I bring her to bed with me, nurse her, and then she sleeps for several more hours (until 7:45 today). Yes, you can all hate on me for my late sleeping children. Das Big Boy slept until 8:30. But he gave up his nap shortly after turning two, and his sister sucks at napping as well, so don’t begrudge me my nights.

20140122-222643.jpgToday we frolicked in the snow, played with the awesome ball tower, and watched some Sesame Street. If that sounds too idyllic, some of us also had temper tantrums because we “hate all the food!” and suffered two time outs for sister-pushing when she was trying to horn in on our toys. And we had to shovel out because HH is on a business trip luxuriating in hotel sleep. While I shoveled, the kids played/sat (depending on age) in the snow until LL’s nose got red and then I popped them in the car until I finished. I just made it sound like I am a damsel because HH always shovels (which he almost always does), but really it’s just a challenge to figure out where to stash one’s children while shoveling. Someone should invent a heated tent or something.

This evening we went to dinner with Dr G. and her adorable wee ones. A good time was had by all (although DBB continued to hate all the food such that I had to practically feed him his pizza, which he currently wants to eat in a genteel, Bill de Blasio knife and fork fashion.) Dr G.’s daughter found the entire notion of going out late (it was 5:30) to restaurants (it was pizza in suburbia, though she’s right that it was yuppie pizza) to be akin to being a movie star.


A movie star like this. Except Gisele is a model. And except with a breastpump and ice cream and without looking beautiful or potentially exposing my children to nail polish and hair product chemicals and fumes (it was dinner with Dr. G., after all). And to be fair, I did some breastfeeding there, too. And drank wine. So maybe I shouldn’t be so judgy.

I kept up the glam by doing the following in the span of forty minutes: changing two diapers, getting two kids in jammies, reading to the baby (Todd Parr’s The I Love You Book), nursing/singing to the baby, putting the baby to sleep, brushing the toddler’s teeth, reading two books to the toddler (Todd Parr’s The I Love You Book and Jonathan Allen’s I’m Not Scared), Facetime singing three songs to the toddler with HH, kissing the toddler goodnight, listening to the toddler briefly holler for me, cleaning three cat boxes (yes, we still have two cats which is a sad story I’ll discuss at another time), and taking our trash and recycling out. At this point I felt more rock star than movie star. (Although it’s been pointed out to me that calling someone a rock star when they accomplish something challenging is silly. We should call them something more heroic. So I felt like a nurse or a teacher or a single parent). Then I pumped while eating ice cream and watching Modern Family, which really did feel like something movie stars would do.



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