As soon as it hits 1:15, I scoop up Sebastian under one arm and some stuffed animals under the other arm. I grab my phone and the baby monitor in one hand and two boys' worth of snacks in the other hand. I ask Lucas if he needs to go to the bathroom and call for Finley to start heading upstairs. When met with silence, I wait the Good and Patient Parent's amount of time [approximately 15 seconds] before asking Lucas again if he needs to go to the bathroom and call for Finley again to start heading upstairs. When met with more silence, I wait the Not-As-Good-and-Patient Parent's amount of time [approximately 2 seconds] before threatening the consumption of aforementioned snacks if I don't immediately hear some responses and/or pitter-pattering of feet heading my way. By this point, Sebi's alter ego, Mr. Squirmo Pants, is emerging and he's getting fussy either about A) being held the way he's being held or B) being hungry or C) being sleepy.
Finally, after toilets have been flushed and hands have been washed and animals have somehow been found and then lost again and both boys have forgotten what we're supposed to be doing several times over, we are all en route up the stairs. Finley gets through the bottom gate first and commences his slow and not at all steady ascent, arms filled with a panda, a fox, a turtle, and his snack bowl. Lucas dangerously squeezes past him on the second step in his unannounced race to be the first to the top, dropping one of his six stuffed animals every third step, with the unspoken expectation that I somehow manage to gather them for him during my climb. Sebastian is doing frog kicks into Finley's back as I try to herd Finley up the stairs just a wee bit faster than tortoise. By now, Lucas is announcing his triumphant victory and reminding us of the consequences of whoever loses the stair race [generally in the form of declaring him or her as some inedible eggplant dish]. Seventeen years later, Finley and the rest of us arrive at the top of the stairs.
I drop Lucas and his bowl of snacks off in our guest/play/pink room. Door closed. One down.
I sit with Finley as he eats his two animal crackers. I sing him a medley of Jesus Loves Me, Jesus Loves the Little Children, and Row, Row, Row Your Boat. He drinks some water. He flings himself into bed. I give him a dozen and a half instructions on what is expected of him during this nap time. Door closed. Two down.
I nurse Sebi, change his diaper, swaddle him, and plop him into his crib. Door closed. Three down.
And then I wait.
I wait for Lucas to announce he can't find one of his animals or that he needs help with his sticker book or that he needs to go to the bathroom. I wait for Finley to climb out of bed several times or need help finding one of his animals or need another drink of water or, worst case scenario, refuse to go to sleep at all. I wait for Sebastian to start crying because he's still hungry or he has a burp or he needs to spit up. I just sit on the edge of my bed and wait. It's the waiting game of all waiting games.
And today? I won the game.
Lucas didn't need anything.
Finley didn't need anything.
Sebastian didn't need anything.
Game. Set. Match.
And my reward? I got to sit here and write this post. It seems a little circular, to want them all to go down so I can write a post about them all going down, but... that's the beauty of me time. I get to do whatever I want. ;) It is absolutely lovely.
Oh! Also! I wanted to write a post today so I could remember the following story:
Finley dove into bed and whomped his head good on the bottom of the top bunk, and he, of course, started wailing and wailing. His wailing made Sebastian wail and wail. Finley, mid-sobs, managed to say, "It's, it's okay, Sebi. Don't cry. Me is, me is okay, Sebi. It's okay now." And it was the sweetest thing alive.
I love my crew. And my 30 minutes of peace and quiet. Cheers to the days where I get both!
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