Yet another new way to start my day...or I'd rather shout at birds, thanks, than wake up to this....

Six-thirty am, in the electric heat of my bedroom where thin sunlight is smudged out by the dark curtains, I am brusquely awakened by the shock of cold hands on the backs of my bare legs. Graysen.
Coming slowly to awareness I can tell by the temperature of his hands that he has been up for a while. That he apparently snuck out of bed at some unknown point in time, leaving me to (finally) sleep soundly.
At the next level of awareness I sense that his hands are slightly damp. My first thought-the toilet. This makes me leap up, eyes still glued with sleep. Graysen loves water, and has no qualms about exploring that ever-present ceramic pool.
But then I notice he's holding something and shaking it lightly, and my concern about toilet water dissolves. I wrest a small white bottle away from him and feel my heart sink.
It's Soren's bottle of Singulair, and it's empty.
First, I fish around in his mouth. This offends him greatly, especially when I extract the soggy remnants of at least three pills. Then I scope out Soren's nightstand, and find a curious glass of thick pink goop. Being still half asleep I wonder if Soren concocted some strange drink in the wee hours of the morning. But then I notice that the floor is wet, and there is a small pile of partially dissolved pills on both the nightstand and mushed into the carpet. Beside the nightstand, Soren sleeps, unaware of what went down (literally) inches from his head.
"Soren," I say, shaking him gently. He stirs, tries to open his eyes. Fails.
"Sobie, wake up. I need to know how many Singulairs you had left."
"Uhhh..." he tries again to open his eyes. Succeeds. "I think a lot," he finally says, then succumbs to the gravitational pull of his pillow. I scoop up the soggy pills, grab the glass and pill bottle, and head in to do what must be done.
I have called Poison Control a handful of times. When Mirabai was two she licked some damp paint off a silkscreen. Fortunately, the paint proved to be non-toxic. Since that time I've called about ingested vitamins, Tylenol (as a formerly certified EMT that one really scared me!), toothpaste, and now this. Allergy pills.
The woman on the other end of the line when I call Poison Control sounds like she's short and has gray hair. I explain twice that I was sleeping when Graysen did this, and then wondered if that made it sound like I was a bad mother. I flashed on all the other things Graysen has done before-climbed up on the hearth and pulled all the ashes out of the fireplace...floated my mother's glass fishing floats in the toilet...dunked bread and then climbed INTO the toilet, with his shoes on...spilled a huge bag of M&Ms in the girl's room and then proceeded to eat a few handfuls of them before I caught up with his antics....
I began to wonder if I AM a bad mother.
I didn't dwell there long-what's the point? And I was relieved to find that Singulair is virtually harmless. The woman told me calmly to watch him for signs of excess thirst (this while he nursed-his fave activity) and note any signs of "hyperactivity." "Yeah," said I, "you're pretty much describing how my son behaves on a normal day."

So I proceeded to watch him a bit more closely. In between my watching (short moments, really, for bathroom breaks and snacks) Gray managed to get into the girls' Sea Monkey aquarium for fun swishing the microscopic "monkeys" in their pink plastic environs, followed closely by the heartrending push of my laptop off the footstool onto the floor. All before noon.

Then, we celebrated his remarkable achievements with some ketchupy hot dog fun followed by a nice long bath. And the afternoon stretched out ahead of us, full of possibility.

Yelling at Wildlife--a new way to start my day

My first interaction of the day is typically with my kids. Graysen and his ten-pound diaper, Chiara and her need for a "honey nut cheerios tasty and sweet" fix, Soren and Mirabai and their battles over a. the space heater in the living room OR b. the TV....

But this morning was different. This morning I found myself standing, bleary-eyed, on the front patio yelling at a giant flicker.

I had a wicked migraine yesterday, which made me feel completely flayed last night. I was here, in the dark quiet house, fire blazing, Graysen asleep as of 6:30 (and he slept through!!!). And I could barely function, my head hurt so much. I went to bed around 9:30 feeling dizzy, shaky, totally spaced out, exhausted. After a night of fitful dreams that had a lot to do with winning (or not, as the case was) a very large house, I was awoken to the sound of something pounding on metal at regular intervals. Rising through the layers of sleep was painful, and I realized I was still under the influence of the migraine aftermath (and it's now early afternoon and I'm functioning only at a very basic level, sadly). I thought at first that I'd dreamed the noise. I tried to open my eyes. I heard it again. Graysen was undisturbed next to me, his legs propped up on mine. He has to be touching me while he sleeps....

Finally, after realizing I hadn't dreamt the metallic din I snuck out of bed, careful not to wake Gray, and found my slippers behind the door. I tried, for reasons relatively unknown to me, to peer up the fireplace first...duh, can't see a thing. Finally, I went outside and looked up into the painfully bright sky.

There, perched on the top of the chimney, was a gorgeous giant flicker. I regarded him. He regarded me. For one fleeting moment I considered my camera back inside. What a shot that would have been! But that moment was intersected by what I actually did: I yelled. "Would you PLEASE GO AWAY?"

And he did.

An hour later, I yelled at a very cute bunny who was very uncutely digging up my daffodil bulbs (stoopid bunny--nobody eats daffodils!).

And that is how things were today....

Cooking Lessons

I think I could like cooking if I could do it with a glass of wine in one hand and great music piped in to the kitchen. I could do it if I had competent and inspired help in the form of another adult. I think I could actually get creative with food, given time, space, and support. But time is such a rare commodity these days. Due to competition over who of my 3 older kids gets to sit next to me...and my youngest's inclination to want nursing any time I sit down...sitting down to eat is a luxury. Add to that the fact that my husband, Chris, works nights, meaning that dinner is always on my watch alone. So I have to juggle food prep with toddler often underfoot whining at me (or eating potting soil in the corner of the dining room, climbing on the table to play with the candles, removing DVDs from their boxes in the den...) and the three others wandering in now and then for snacks so that, of course, they aren't hungry when dinner is on the table.

Typically, everything is cold by the time the table is set, and I'm ready to throttle someone. I turn into evilmommymonster intercepting my five-year-old with her frequent "just bread, thanks" snacks, and imploring the older children to just please please play with Graysen and set the table! Please!

And on some nights, I am so bombarded with noise and cooking needs and children's requests.... On one of those nights I was about ready to pull my hair out BUT, I got it all together and went to the table, smiling children seated, food still warm (!), and then I looked down to find that someone (Graysen, it turned out) had, unbenownst to me, drawn all over my jeans with blue dry erase marker.

Yes, I was wearing my jeans at the time.

So, I'm not a big fan of cooking. Plus, get a load at the pathetic way I make an overeasy egg.... Yikes!

Another Night of Chaos...

My head feels like it’s buzzing, I have the hiccups and I’m too hot….everything is too bright and noisy. Why does this happen? I hit absolute overwhelm and feel like wringing people’s necks. I can’t formulate a coherent sentence or find the right child’s name in the moment. I’ve been known to direct Mir-So-Gra-CHIARA!” to do something vital, only to find that my words are falling on deaf ears because I stuttered too much at the outset.
My hair keeps falling in my face.
Graysen is nursing and keeps trying to grab my other nipple.
He is into screaming in joy as well as agony. He whines, doesn’t have many words yet.
In the middle of dinner, he dropped a green bean down his diaper. He retrieved it which, of course, involved removing his diaper. I was so hungry I was shaking and so let Gray move on to the next logical action—getting out of his hichair, butt naked, and running into the den.
That was where, of course, he promptly peed and danced in it.

The kids are in bed, Graysen is watching Spongebob (after a screaming fit he threw outside the bedroom door, beyond which Chris is trying to sleep) and things have settled a little. To cool down I went out onto the front porch briefly—the air is warm and full of the scent of rain (oh please!). This is February…the weather is frightening. No snow this winter. As I stood there feeling myself relax I heard them: a chorus of many coyotes harmonize to the moonless sky. The world is all sound and fury….