It was a weekend of laughter.
It was a weekend of sugary chocolate overload.
It was a weekend that marked my first missed “what the frak?” moment post since it started – and not for lack of topics.
It was a weekend where I ate way too much after a week of missed workouts – thanks to the Tackler’s “banning.”
It was my son’s 4th birthday.
I didn’t workout Friday. I didn’t even have time for a five minute shower. Or any shower.
It still managed to be one of the best days of Mommyhood – in spite of the beginning.
There was no true party, unless you counted our tiny family unit plus my mother-in-law a “party.”
The day began at 6:30 AM with CG and I playing a quick round of “Let’s Pretend I Can’t Hear Lil Diva is Awake So the Other Person Will Get Her.” – I won by a tiniest of margins.
My prize arrived a few minutes later, just as a wave of sleep rolled over me – a heavy pounding on the bedroom door.
The Tackler, groggy from being disturbed by Lil Diva and perplexed as to why I answered the summons, demanded to know where Daddy was.
“He’s putting baby sister back to sleep, sweetie. You need to go back to sleep too. See? It’s still dark outside,” I used logic on him, grateful the never ending days of summer were still a few months away – when this would not be the case.
The Tackler protested halfheartedly, but allowed me to tuck him back into bed as I secretly released a sigh of relief.
I am never a morning person, and as of late, insomnia has only allowed me 5-6 hours of sleep a night. I slid back into bed, trying to find that perfect spot to sink into and let sleep claim me again.
No such luck, my mommy brain already fully awake and running through countless lists of things to do that day for the Tackler’s 4th birthday.
Thirty minutes later, I finally gave up and went downstairs, my stomach already growling for failing to feed it within immediately waking. I poured myself a bowl my current breakfast of choice: Frosted Flakes, chasing it down with the equivalent of my morning coffee – a can of Mountain Dew. CG was there and we mumbled greetings to each other – neither of us particularly thrilled with the time our morning began.
At 7:30 AM, the Tackler butt-slid down the stairs, at first confused why both of his parents were up and moving.
CG and I turned as one, completely unplanned or prearranged, and shouted, “Happy birthday!”
The Tackler’s face immediately broke into a grin, the thrill of this day – his birthday – shattering and dispelling any possible funk he’d considered wallowing in for the day.
“This means I can open my…. present!” He informed us, the smile growing even larger.
“That’s right, after you eat breakfast, go potty, and get dressed.” I added, knowing this clause would eliminate any possible morning routine battles.
The Tackler easily capitulated and for the next three hours exhibited exemplary behavior for any child, but even more so for him – as though finally reaching the Four Year Old Mark magically exorcised the Terrible Three’s from him.
Yes, I know that is just wishful thinking – but I am hoping the good moments and days will grow to far out number the Why Did I Want to Stay at Home and Raise Kids moments.
The only glimpse of Typical Tackler Orneriness was at the grocery store run – where the too-close confines of the cart proved too tempting for him to tease his sister. Luckily, I had an easy solution. Through great initial protesting, I removed him from my cart and dumped him into his Grandma’s G’s cart (my mother-in-law’s). He immediately quieted and remained on his best behavior for her, the lure of pestering his baby sister removed by several grocery aisles.
After a checkout fiasco completely unrelated to either of my children (be sure to check out this Friday’s “what the frak?” moment to see why), we headed home for Lil Diva’s nap time.
That is where the true fun began.
To be continued.