Sunday, September 13, 2009

Friday night, what?

This weekend, Friday, I fell asleep early after putting Little Girl to bed. Gary arrived home after some function with a buddy, he came down stairs, "Hey, what happened to Fiona's face?"
"What?" slightly alarmed & groggy, I sat up.
"What happened to her face?" he repeats. "Come up stairs and look."
I roll off the bed where I had been reading and follow him upstairs, racking my brain to remember if she hit anything, ran into anything, ate anything---anything out of ordinary.
Upon opening the door to her room I realize what he really means is what did she do to her face.

That's washable marker. All over her arms & legs & face. I let her sleep it off.
First thing Saturday morning, "Good morning, sweetheart, what did you draw on yourself?"
"Those are my race numbers mommy!"

Oh, right, silly me.

We didn't discover the rocks under her pillow until much later Saturday. Sometimes I'd really like film of what she does to occupy herself until she actually goes to sleep, it must be an impressive imaginative display what with all the random objects and stacks of books we find.

A great weekend with the beginning of football and some lovely fall-type weather. The Maple out back is already beginning to turn I think.

Go Broncos! and by default, Go Packers!

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Party Animals

Little Girl has started partying, already, with Porter. In the middle of the night when she wakes, seemingly because she has to potty, the cat hears her and bounds upstairs. I know that he bounds up the stairs because the infernal you-won't-catch-a-bird-with-this-on bell makes a racket. I swear, somehow the Cowprint Killah sneaks about on occasion with the bell silent---why he won't give us some respectful quiet at 2 am as he's one his way to rile up The Child, I don't know. *snerk*

Fiona tells the story of Porter at night, "Kitty's at my door, an' he says, 'meow let me in meow' and so I let him in...."
Okay, great, but you know, Fiona, you can say, "No, kitty, I'm sleeping." To which she smiles. that angelic-small-child-smile. The partying has got to stop though, 'cause it takes a serious toll on my sleep, not to mention the bear of a child that results when sleep is unstable.

Yesterday afternoon, one moment the clamorous noise of a normal 3 year old, then nothing. When I went to search for the source of the brazen quietude, I found my daughter passed out on the floor. Now, I'm not foolish, I don't wake a sleeping baby or child. Mostly because running the risk of then having a cranky intolerant miniature tyrant on one's hands is unappealing. So, don't wake a sleeping child within reason. It is my job to ensure that she sleeps at night so I have to wake her, gently, such that she'll be manageable for the rest of the evening.
This week has been on this "schedule":
Fiona & Porter party from 2-5 give or take.
I go upstairs to chase Porter out of her room several times, ask her to stay in bed & go back to sleep.
I doze on couch listening to Fiona singing & reading---where at least twice The Cat has hung out where I could see him, waiting for me to fall asleep completely then he returns to The Party. B*stard.
Eventually books drop loudly to the floor one at a time---then she sleeps until 9 or 10 am. Which I admit can be nice in a way, definitely throws off whatever plans I had though. I may not sleep again until that night, but Fiona has passed out on the floor twice this week.