Something for Wednesday

My kids take turns crying throughout the day. This morning, Cici woke up early-ish, so I tossed her in the jogging stroller and set off for jog (the Sloan siblings and parents are having a family competition involving exercising and eating healthily, and although there's almost zero chance that I'll win this competition, I still feel obliged to do something that can be entered into the master spreadsheet every week :). Unbeknownst to me, Polly was right behind Cici--she even saw us jogging down the street--and she proceeded to camp out on the front lawn and wait the entire 45 minutes until I came home. By the time I got home, she was crying because she missed me, she didn't get to go, I was taking too long, etc., etc. (and probably also because she was damp and hungry from waiting on the grass for 45 minutes!).  Hugs, kisses, snuggles, promises that she can go another time--and we were off to showers and breakfast and dishes and beds and the whole morning routine. A few hours later, we had gone to Suncrest Primary School to play on the playground, and I was taking advantage of my kids being occupied to call Rachel and catch up. Except that my kids have the uncanny ability to sense when I'm on the phone with someone I actually want to talk to, and they'll choose that moment to stop playing, run over to me, climb on me, demand my attention, and so on (come on, kids, you have a whole playground at your disposal, you don't have to hang out by the benches with me!). Anyway, I was determined to have the conversation, but finally Cici's forlorn wails and multiple attempts to run out of the gate onto the street convinced me that she was ready to go home. So pile the kids in the stroller, push the unwieldy thing down and up and around, ply my kids with grapes, switch the laundry, feed Joshey--the whole pre-lunch routine. Fast forward an hour, and Cici is down, Polly has been instructed to look at books until I finish getting Joshey down for a nap, and I'm in my bedroom, the door locked against Polly's intrusions, nursing little Joshey. Getting my babies down for naps once they're out of the sling is one of the stress points of my day. Gently unlatching him once he's asleep, ever so gently getting out of the rocking chair, ever ever so gently lowering him into the pack and play--there are so many fraught junctures. This time we didn't even get past breaking the latch. Maybe it was because Polly decided that she wanted to be a baby too and curled up right outside my door, alternately howling through the crack and knocking loudly. Maybe Joshey can just sense when I'm not channeling my inner zen. Whatever it was, I tried four times, and on the fifth unsuccessful attempt as his eyes popped open, I told him that I'd be right back, then I went out to vent my frustration on Polly. But when I saw her lying on the floor, having wrapped herself in a baby blanket, I didn't have the heart to scold. So I stomped around the family room, picking up cushions (grumpy cleaning is my preferred way of expressing my displeasure at something), and finally sat on the couch and waited for Polly to crawl over. "Mommy, that took a long time," she said in her baby voice (which drives me crazy). "When are you going to read me my book?" "Right now," I told her. We read the book, I pretended to put her down for a nap on the couch, we had a quick talk about what she needs to do while I'm putting Joshey down for a nap, and then I went back to retrieve Joshey from the pack and play, where he had finally discovered that he'd been ditched. So anyway, everyone has had their turn crying for today. Even me, if you count this blog post :). If it's a really good day, this will be it for crying. If it's a normal day, we'll have another round before dinner...