Finally, after thirteen weeks, we've landed in a sort of a bedtime routine. There's a semi-predictable pattern. I can think one or two steps ahead, rather than just sprinting from one task to the next, juggling whatever baby/toddler/dog/food-related mini-emergency arises.
Here are the parameters: one parent, two children, one dog, and one cat. Yeah, basically, I'm on my own at bedtime. Sean's on shift and, thus, sleeping, or not sleeping, at a fire station ten miles away, and, when he's not on shift, he's now in this little thing called paramedic school, which demands his presence at least three nights a week. So, any bedtime strategies have to be doable by one parent, because we've only got two parents at home two, sometimes one, night a week.
(Note: while I have had my selfish woe-is-me moments, like when I've just been puked or pooped on by Jonas and Axel is yelling, "Dog dog dog dog dog," while waving his arms over his head in a booga-booga fashion and chasing the dog who is barking and who just finished eating the dinner that I foolishly put too close to the edge of the kitchen table, I recognize that we are very lucky. Sean has not been deployed overseas. Neither of us is struggling with a serious illness. I am not actually a single parent, even if I am alone with both kids most of the time that I'm not at work. It's just a bit of a rocky transition, from a 65/35 parenting split to something more like 80/20 or, as it will be in some weeks, 90/10.)
Anyway, here's what a typical evening is starting to look like at our house:
4:20 pm: Get home. Relieve nanny, who stays with the boys a couple days a week. Put bottles of expressed milk in the fridge. Wave goodbye to nanny.
4:30 pm: Strap Jonas into the Baby Bjorn. Play outside. See tractor. Wave to tractor. Chase Axel down the street after his long lost love, big yellow tractor. See bus. Wave to bus. Prevent Axel from running into the street to declare his love for the bus and all its passengers. See mail truck. Wave to mail truck. Follow mail truck down the street. Wath Axel cheer, "Mail mail mail mail mail!" Think how nice it must be for the mailman to have a fan club.
5:00 pm: Pick up the mail. Tell Axel it's time to come inside. Chase Axel. Let out best horror movie heroine scream as Axel approaches dog poop and kneels down, apparently considering scooping up said poop with his bare hand. Get everyone one foot from the doorstep, only to hear a battle cry of, "Cat cat cat cat," a la Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, as Axel chases cat off the porch (bobbling on the steps and inspring visions of a head injury), across the neighbor's lawn, and under a bush.
5:15 pm: Tell Axel again that it's time to come inside. No. Yes. No. Yes. Tractor? Yes. Inside. Pick him up. Go inside. Let Axel give Jonas one gentle kiss, a kiss that quickly morphs into a full-face slobber that stuns the easily shocked Jonas. Encourage Axel to play with set of wooden animals. Do not put on an Elmo video. Consider making something for dinner, like chicken pot pies from scratch! Wouldn't my mother in law be impressed! Realize that the fridge does not contain any of the ingredients for chicken pot pie, except for a few wilted carrots. Change someone's diaper. Change someone else's diaper. Notice spit up stain on shirt that was clean two minutes ago. What was I thinking about? Oh, right. Dinner.
5:23 pm: Floor is now covered in Legos, which Axel is happily pushing as far from the Lego box as possible while singing a little tune. This makes the dog bark. Jonas decides he is ravenous. Dinner is still a mystery, at least for the members of the house who want more than milk or Kibbles & Bits.
5:30 pm: Put on an Elmo video. A few minutes of Sesame Street can't hurt, right? Nurse Jonas, while Axel watches Elmo and Elmo's slightly creepy friend Mr. Noodle talk about pets and pulls all the cushions off of the living room furniture, replacing them with stuffed animals and blankets.
5:45 pm: Hear a crash in the front of the house. Pick up Jonas, who is still nursing, and walk to the front of the house, where Axel has climbed up on the double jogging stroller and pushed the mail off of the dresser just inside the front door. Remind him that jogging strollers are not jungle gyms. Comfort Jonas, who is offended that his meal has been interrupted by the walk across the house. More climbing - onto my bed, into Jonas' Pack and Play, on top of the coffee table - but, luckily, no crashing. Strategically deploy raisins.
6:00 pm: Feed pets. Pull out leftover frittata, random assortment of fruit, frozen chicken nuggets, and pretzels. Nuke it. All food groups are represented and an applicance has even been used to prepare the meal, so this is an adequate dinner. Tell Axel he must eat sitting at the table, while I snatch bites of chicken and fruit (standing up) and wash off breast pump parts. Put Jonas is bouncy chair. Sit for a few minutes, trying to engage Axel in conversation about his day, which revolves around the words truck, boom, paint, Daddy, baby, no no no, and cat.
6:07 pm: Axel climbs down from his chair, done with dinner. Clear plates. Go into basement, where Axel cooks an imaginary feast and eats a mound of imaginary food, which is apparently more satiating than real food. Keep Axel from tackling Jonas and dragging him across the floor to his lair, where he insists he wants to play with baby, except that "play" means "Test to make sure his ears are securely fixed to his head." More playing, more pooping, more nose wiping, more reminders not to chase the dog, more smiling and cooing at Jonas, more reading of books.
6:40 pm: Give Axel his dessert of graham crackers and milk. Change Jonas into a footed sleeper. Return to the kitchen in time to prevent Axel from feeding the dog a second graham cracker. Clean up toys. Cheer when Axel puts a single truck back in the toy box.
6:50 pm: Fill up bath. Try to find a happy place for Jonas. Fill up humidifiers (for white noise). Undress Axel, put him in the bath. Rock Jonas, sing to Jonas, or nurse Jonas while sitting on the toilet lid, next to the bathtub. Avoid the enthusiastic splashes coming from the wrecking of the S.S. Axel, which seems to have been submerged by rare teamwork from an octopus and a baby duck. Soap up one boy, sing to the other. Remove toddler from the tub. Hold him down and brush his teeth.
7:05 pm: Dress Axel in his pirate PJs, which results in lots of "Arrrggghs" all around, including from Jonas. Rescue Jonas from the bathmat. Rock Jonas. Try to keep Axel in his room. Read books that involve heavy machinery or cows. Read over wailing baby. Rock more. Two more books, a little water, and lights out.
7:25 pm: On to bedtime part two. Change Jonas, swaddle him up, nurse him while sorting through mail and singing snatches of lullabies.
8:00 pm: Put Jonas down in his bed, tiptoe out of the room, and finish eating dinner. Boys are sleeping!
8:05 pm: Jonas wails. Arrrgggh. More rocking, more singing, more snuffly little snuggles into my shoulder. Repeat, as necessary. Go into Axel's room, after a post bedtime poop, and ensure him that, yes, everyone he has ever met is sleeping, and thus he should sleep, too.
8:15 pm: Boys are sleeping! For real! Now comes laundry, kitchen clean up, dishes, packing things up for the morning, checking email, a few sit ups, the last ten minutes of Top Chef, showering, earnest thoughts about vaccuming and toilet cleaning that aren't followed through.
9:30 pm or beyond: Fall into bed, sometimes after another nursing session. Pledge to cook an actual meal for dinner again. Sometime. Eventually.
I think there's room for improvement.
