night time

6am.  A tap on my shoulder… Jonah: Mommy… Me: Yes…? J: I’m up. Me: I see. J: Mommy? Me: Yes…? J: I had a very bad dream. Me: I’m so sorry to hear that. J: Mommy? Me: Yes…? J: Please don’t be mad at me… but in my dream… I punched (my cousin). Me: Wow, that does sound like a bad dream. J: Are you mad at me? Me: No, honey. It was just a dream. J:… Because you know I’d never punch my cousin, right? Me: I know you’d never punch anyone. A few days later… 6am again… (I mean, seriously). Michelle Obama in a PSA on PBS. Me: Do you know who that is? J: No, who? Me: That’s The First Lady of the United States. That’s President Obama’s ...Read More
Though bedtime has become a battle in my house as of late, there are actually a few sweet rituals that have little to no hysteria-three year-old-hostage stand-off- negotiation type qualities. One of those rituals happens to be a discussion about dreams… After I’ve told him a story about how houses are built in a factory run by five men named Bob, Steve, Joe, Fred, and Roger (don’t ask), I rock him in the chair and tell him to have sweet dreams. Of course, conversation ensues… J: What should I dream about, Mommy? Me: Tonight, you should dream about chocolate chips, rainbows and Giraffes who play the violin— J: No, no, no, Mommy. I’m ...Read More
Last night I slept on the floor. Yes. The floor. Next to Baby-Ko’s crib. In a fetal position. Using his changing pad as pillow, and my robe as a blanket, I managed to squeeze my arm through a slat so that my son, my very (possibly terrible) two year old son, could hold my hand, and eventually (pray god) fall the eff asleep. Two hours and one majorly numb hip later, I gently removed my hand from his grip, and literally crept out of the room cursing every creak my exhausted knees caused as I crawled down the hallway. For about a week now, I have broken every rule in THE sleep ...Read More
06.03.09
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Everyone has that ONE  tee shirt. That shirt that you’ve had forever… That you got on a cruise when you were 10 and says “Cabo Wabo” … It’s a crappy shirt really. One that you’d never wear out in public, but you probably sleep in 5 nights out of the week and ignore the massive hole in the armpit and the who-knows-when-you-got-that-stain on the collar.  It’s soft, it’s old, and no matter what, you will wear it until it dies. I have that shirt. I actually have three like that and I’m sad to announce, one of them must officially be put to sleep. The first of my beloved shirt dates ...Read More