"GO TO BED!"
I think I have made this statement at least 400 times since Tuesday. It's Spring Break, and my boys refuse to go to bed.
As I type, Ian is passed out on the couch and Christian keeps prancing into the office to ask if the Easter Bunny is real.
It's 10:30 p.m.
"GO TO BED!"
I just wrapped up one batch of Lemon Madeleines and Orange-Cardamom Madeleines each. My contribution to Easter brunch at my Auntie Karen's house tomorrow. I'm exhausted. But not from the cookies.
It's probably from staying up until 1:30 a.m. this morning reading Metro Girl in bed. Quiet alone time is so precious that I'm willing to give up sleep to enjoy it. But now I'm paying the price. By 8 p.m. tonight I was on the verge of a panic attack. I blame the exhaustion and all the mysterious sounds I hear after dark. One night I was sure someone was on my roof.
This is all because my husband is lounging in Palm Desert. For two weeks. When I talked to him tonight he had just climbed out of the hot tub. His biggest problems? He shot a 97 today and our TVs down there don't have DVR or Tivo. His biggest challenge today? He had to convince the gardeners to trim the citrus trees for no additional fee.
He didn't have a four-year-old huck a small electronic blackjack game at the dashboard of the car while he was pulling into traffic. He doesn't have arthritis in both thumbs from repeatedly grabbing a 55-pound four-year-old around the upper arms to drag him to his room/hoist him off the floor/pull him off his brother. He's not having to watch the clematis die. (See last week's entry.)
Am I bitter? No, not really. Seriously. I'm glad he's enjoying himself. But I swear to God, I've never loved my job more than I do right now. I am so excited about going back to the office on Monday, words just can't express.
I felt bad, though, by Friday that the boys had been cooped up here while I worked most of the week from home. So, I shut down Regence early on Friday and took them up to Seattle to go plant shopping and have dinner with my mom. It was a fun afternoon and evening. The boys love their grandma and her plant store. They charmed everyone with their dimples and freckles. And everyone came home happy with a car full of new plants.
We bought a climbing rose, a clematis (yeah, I know--one's not going to cover it), a cute dwarf columbine, several other perennials and a bunch of herbs. We planted most of them today, out in the April drizzle. It was really nice. Until Ian yanked a bulb out of the ground and picked a fight with Christian. I'm sure our neighbors think we're trash.
Tonight Sam and Al stopped by for mac-and-cheese then followed us to Tukwila to watch Christian play soccer. It cost me $7 in quarters at the gumball machines to keep Ian half-way entertained, but it was worth it. Christian scored four goals and his aunt and uncle were so proud of him. I'm the mother of a soccer star!
Alright. He was just back in here asking about the freaking Easter Bunny. And I have to go put a nighttime diaper on a sleeping Ian. Ever try to lift a sleeping 55-pound child into a bunk bed? With arthritic thumbs? I should tell Christian flat out that yes, there is an Easter Bunny. I've seen him myself. Many years ago in my Auntie Karen's front yard. He had a basket of eggs in one hand and a drink in the other.
On that note, I don't want to stay up too late and surprise the Bunny. It's time for me to GO TO BED.
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