Survival of the fittest, or most rested

I would love to report a lot of milestones achieved, humorous mutterings from small people, and amazing accomplishments since my last post, but part of the reason it's been so long since my last post is that there isn't much to report. I know, how can I have a toddler and not have a breaking news story every day? Truth is, Oscar and his antics are frankly frightening, and by the end of the day I just pray to forget most of it by the next day, if only to save me from several more gray hairs. Case in point: the other day, I'm making dinner. I can see the living room from the kitchen, it's all one big open space. Behind our couch is a set of bookshelves that act like a console table with picture frames on top, and behind that is our kids' play table and chairs. Oscar is bumbling about, speaking the language only he understands, when all of a sudden I look over and there's his little head poking over the framed pictures on the aforementioned bookshelves behind the couch. The only way he could accomplish this is by A) ingesting some ungodly amount of human growth hormone akin to the Incredible Hulk or B) climbing the chair onto the kid table and STANDING on it. Guess which one he did? He was SO proud, just beaming at me, with no regard for the danger three feet below him. Pointy edges, plate glass windows, hardwood floors. None of it mattered. It was, indeed, his Everest, and yet another reason for my second glass of wine that night.

The other reality keeping me from reporting more often: my kids are constantly ill. It's winter, Annie's in school (a.k.a., that Petri dish with books) 5 mornings a week, and Oscar has no immune system to speak of. Just tonight, I put Annie to bed with what is probably a raging case of conjunctivitis and a middle-ear infection (we'll find out tomorrow), and Oscar, also with a double hit: teething (with what looks like molars the size of Rhode Island) and a bad cold/stomach bug. I spend most of my days in futility, disinfecting what surfaces I can, trying to remember to pay bills, do laundry, plan (and actually make some) meals and all the other unrewarding tasks of homewifery on about 5 hours of sleep because of said illnesses and the nightwaking they impose. And every now and again I remember to brush Annie's teeth.

Last weekend, I went to Georgia for two days and one night for my grandfather's memorial service. Given that the kids and I have not spent a night apart from each other (believe me, not on purpose) since they were born (other than one from Annie on the night Oscar was indeed born), the separation held some challenges for their weary father. Jay did his best, and I'm sure his best was beyond exceptional, but Annie, regardless of his efforts, didn't go to sleep until 3 am and Oscar woke up for the day a little over 2 hours later. Yet more proof that I can never die. No one would ever sleep again.