Last night at bedtime

Since we moved the boys into the same room, you might think our nightly routine would have been cut in half. But instead it's been multiplied by 500 million. Used to be, we'd read Sam a book and say good night, and we'd throw Owen in his crib and DONE. It was great.

But now.

Now it goes like this:

We brush teeth. I ask Sam if he needs to use the potty. He says no. We go read a book, Chris reads to Sam, I read to Owen. They beg for a second book. We say no. They ratchet up the pleading until we say yes. We read the second book. Like during the first book the boys are more interested in the book the other boy is reading, but GOD FORBID we all sit together and read the same book. So they mostly ignore the book and bounce around the room until we shut the book and then they are all, "MAH BOOK, MAH BOOK!" Then we turn out the light and Owen screams in rage. Then Chris or I have to "sit-a-minute."

And then it gets fun.

First, it occurs to Sam that his water is not fresh. Fair point. It's true. It's totally last night's water because Chris and I forget to refill the water about 90% of the time. So Sam wants to go get fresh water. And, well, of course Owen wants to go, too. So while you could trust Sam to go get his own fresh water, no way in HELL can the two of them go together to get fresh water. So we all have to go together to get fresh water. And where did they even learn about the concept of "fresh" water? Is that weird? It seems weird to me.

So then we all get back in bed. And then Owen remembers he needs to go give Daddy a hug-n-kiss. And of course Sam has to go too. So we all troop downstairs, administer and receive hugs and kisses, and then go back to bed.

And then Sam realizes he needs to go potty.

And then Owen needs to blow his nose.

When we've done all this, it is finally time to settle down. So the boys lie in bed, and I sit in the chair and . . .

Mom?

I love you Owen.

Mom?

I love you Owen.

Mom?

Owen, it's not time for talking, it's time to go to sleep.

Mom?

What?!

I want a cheese.

Owen, it's not snack time, it's bed time.

Oh.

. . .

Because I ate dinner at hoppa-hommas house?

That's right. Now go to sleep.

Mom?

Owen! Lay down!

(From Sam) I have no socks on!

Dude! You haven't had socks on for hours! We're not going to make this a problem now.

Mom?

OWEN. Stop talking and go to sleep!

Mom?

(From Sam) I feel something in my bed. Like a crumb.

Mom?

WHAT Owen?

I meed my monies

(From Sam) What was that noise? It sounded like a bird or something.

Owen, your monies are on your bookshelf, right where you put them, now please lay down and be quiet.

Oh. On mah bookshelf? Mah monies are on mah bookshelf?

That's right.

(From Sam) If you find a snake, it could bite you, because they have liquid poison and they can hide in the sand, so you better walk slow in the sand and watch out for snakes so's they don't bite you.

OH MY GOD BE QUIET.

And then it is Chris's turn.

Late fees

Due dates are so irritating. Even though I KNOW better, I was still attached to my due date, as if it meant something. Other than "Tuesday." But it didn't. This child, emulating her siblings, is both slow as molasses and good at ignoring my requests to get a move on.

And it's messing with my hormones. Everything makes me want to cry recently. It's weird. Driving to work makes me want to cry. TV makes me want to cry. That's never happened to me before, at least for any extended length of time. I mean, I've been cranky and irritable, but mostly I think that's because people need to shut the fuck up and stop saying irritating shit.

Like, "Oh, are you still here?!"