Frozen Drool, Wonder Woman and LOUD babies

I had the day "all planned out": market, Wal-Mart, BJ's (we've been holding off until payday, can ya tell?) But then Zorak had to work. And we slept in. And by the time we had everyone fed, dressed and dropped off, the boys and I made it to BJ's. That was it. Two of three were out cold and drooling when I pulled into the Shopper's lot. It was too cold today to drag them through the parking lot with wet shirts, so we headed home.

Three of four napped. Thankfully, James likes to read undisturbed for hours at a time. I meant to lay down with the baby just long enough to get him back to sleep, but he has this bizarre Star Wars-like ability to throw me into a trance. "This is not the toddler you're looking for." OK. If ever there is an intergalactic war between good and evil, don't bother to draft me. I will be of no use to you.

Zorak thought he'd be done by four. Well, maybe four thirty. OK, be there around five-ish. Closer to six. Poor guy. By the time they were done with the briefing and ready to go, it was seven o'clock. He hadn't eaten all day, and he was cold, tired and g-r-u-m-p-y. We have secret plans to make tomorrow a special day for him. He heads off Sunday for who-knows-how-long. The change of scenery will be nice, and this trip will bring The Project closer to completion, which will do wonders for his enthusiasm in general.

You know, I hate not being able to improve things for him in that realm, directly, and it's difficult to stay focused on improving things for him by the indirect means at my disposal: timely meals, tidy house, clean skivvies on demand, that kind of thing. It matters, I know, but that's hard to get enthusiastic about it when what I really want to do is break out the golden bracelets and sparkly boots and take on the dark forces of the universe!!!

And might I just go on record as saying that Smidge is the - I kid you not, and no, this isn't a case of selective amnesia - THE loudest child we have ever had! Holy Bat Crap, Robin, what are you feeding that child? It's not as bad as it could be, I suppose, as it's usually a happy noise, but... still, seriously. When you are accustomed to having children who use their inside voices from the age of, oh, ONE, on, it's downright shocking to have one that squeals so heartily you'd swear he's strained something doing it. I wanted to d-i-e tonight at dinner. Thankfully, three tables of people made a point of coming up to our table and commenting that the boys are wonderfully behaved and so cute, such a joy to watch and we must really enjoy them, etc. Bless those kind souls. There is a special place in heaven for folks who can handle the occasional Happy Baby Eruption Of Glee and don't see it as further proof of the lack of respect for others in today's society.

And on the plus side, Smidge learned to put his finger to his mouth and say, "Shhhhh, yes, shhhhhh" tonight. So, that was a bonus.

The house is quiet, the laundry can wait. I am going to go read Treason's Harbour with a hot cup of coffee and some chocolate!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy