On Being Mean and Getting the Writing Done

I feel really mean this morning. And frustrated. I'm trying to train my boys to stay in their room until 6:30 every morning, because listen, I have to protect this little bit of quiet time I can manage in the morning. Sometimes I can manage it. I need to manage it. Do you hear what I'm saying?

Well, it ain't working out so well this morning.

3:30 a.m. Parker comes into our bedroom saying he can't sleep in his own bed and can he get in bed with us. Once upon a time I would have allowed it, but at 5:00 a.m. my cell phone starts buzzing to wake me up. The very next thing I do before getting out of bed is I take my temperature, but the thermometer beeps steadily until the temperature is taken. I cannot risk it waking Parker up.

So I get up with him and take him back to bed. I feel as though I never got properly back to sleep after that. I had bad dreams. For some reason I dreamed that my husband decided to steal something, and I had no choice but to go along with it. We get separated. I get caught. I lie, which only makes matters worse. By the end of it I've been ostracized by my peers. I've vowed never to return to their presence. I finally find my husband, and my purse, and the dog, who has no collar or leash, and my son's bear, and between the two of us we have to figure out a way to get all of this paraphernalia home while on foot. (I had to use spell-check to find out how to spell paraphernalia. I knew there was an "r" in there somewhere.) When 5:00 rolls around I really don't want to get up.

The children? They hop out of bed at 5:45. I mentally blame Parker for waking Isaac up because he never can come out into the hallway without speaking to me loudly from close to his own door. The door to the room both children share. I send Parker in to get in bed with his Daddy. Isaac pops out of his room next. I haven't been able to focus on the book I've been reading. I don't have a blog post scheduled for Friday. And now both children are awake, and my hopes have been dashed. I send both of them into the room with their Daddy, with very little hope that more sleep will be had.

I've been struggling to compose something for Friday ever since. Isaac has now cried a bit because I won't let him join me in the living room yet. I brought him the milk that he asked for. What more does he want? It seems that they are starting to get used to the idea of playing in their room for a little while before breakfast, but they don't get it every day. For the last two mornings they've slept until the cut-off time and so they haven't had to wait, and that has pleased me greatly, but it has also set back their training. I have a wall clock somewhere that I will put in their room if I can ever find it, and then they'll have some way to measure themselves whether or not it is time for them to come out of their rooms. As yet I have not found it. I prefer not to go out and buy a new one this month because money is still tight.

Isaac is in his room playing and it is time to get him out. I had something already scheduled for today, but I'll post this one today instead and save the scheduled one for tomorrow. Thus Friday's post has been found. Hooray. And I got the writing done because I had to. I've been talking to Damon online this morning, and he spontaneously confirms the fact that having a deadline gets the creative work done. Sometimes it gets the housework done as well. Bless you, Damon. And my boys.

Now Isaac is out of his room. He's forgiven me for making him stay in his room because when he came out he showed me a hurt place on his finger. When I asked him if he wanted a kiss (to make it better), he misunderstood and offered me his lips instead of his finger. Yes, these are some precious babies.