keepin it real

i'm a stay at home mama.  jack may go to school 3 days a week, but that's for MY his benefit.  since starting school a year ago, jb has really matured in so many ways.  people often reassured me that once he started talking, he wouldn't stop.  bingo.  the kid's mouth is now keeping up with his mind.  as a baby, he was very internal.  you could see him processing everything in sight, really taking it all in.  and, before the words came to him, you could see him stammer and the frustration level rise up like mercury on a thermometer.  so with this newfound maturity, came patience and satisfaction, expanded vocabulary and sentences like he'd been saving them up.  he's clever, he's introverted, he's passionate and particular.  one day, he's gonna make some woman swoon.

but back to my time with jack at home...

jb's always been a great sleeper.  since week 3, he slept through the night, and continued on that path for the remainder of his infant months, through his toddler years.  but you see though, they grow up.  they get smarter.  they figure things out.  now, i'm struggling to keep mister mister in his room at night.  nothing's changed in our routine, but so many things are changing in jack's world.  child lock (complete with zip tie) on his door knob?  he's now got it mastered.  baby gate in front of the doorway?  he can scale the piece.  after more than a week of this nonsense, i'm a sleep away from duct taping him to his headboard...

so, our bedtime of 8:30 is now extended well into the 10:30-ish hour.  below is a typical conversation to be had several times in the time frame:

mama:  ok, night, bud.  love you.
jb:  nigh nigh, mama.  loves too.
m:  sweet dreams.  you stay in bed, ok?
jb:  ok, mama.  i will.  close door, please.

within minutes, he's in my door way, blankie in arms, and i feel reminiscent of bill murray in groundhog day, like i can practically hear i got you, babe as jb appears in sight.  

m:  jack, why are you here?
jb:  i no know.  why?  i go sweep now.

and this process is repeated, literally, for at least an hour (but usually a little longer) anywhere from 3-15 minute intervals.  and of course, he always appears when i start thinking ok, that was definitely the last last (last) time.  it's maddening.

at the end of my work day (which starts around 8 am and goes until, now, 10:30 pm) i'm ready to not see tiny faces for 12 hours.  i'm ready to not answer ridiculous questions for hours on end.  i want quiet.  i want to sit in the middle of my bed and devour my ice cream without being interrupted, and maybe, just maybe, have enough energy to take a shower without the curtain being pulled open and letting cool air in while i attempt to shave the other leg that i wasn't able to finish from my last shower.  or better yet, pluck my eyebrows start to finish.  but, to my unfortunate (and so understanding) husband's dismay, i usually collapse into bed with a ginormous sigh and proceed to drool on my pillow until i'm woke the next morning to start (the most amazing time in my life with some of the most amazing little creatures i didn't know i was missing in life) it all over again.

i talk a lot of trash, but i love my brown-eyed beauties more than sugar and sweatpants and pink piggies and all the other things in life that make me smile just because.  jackie b.  you make your mama swoon.