Ahhh, my sweet Bennett boy. He seems to be an accident waiting to happen. Every day. This past week he repetitively bumped his bottom, front, two teeth. No doubt, Daddy and Gavin are partially to blame due to their wild wrestling forrays. Whenever I do the dutiful mom thing and ask them to "wrestle gently" I know in the depths of my soul that that can never happen, yet I still feel compelled to say it. It is one of the biggest oximorons I know.
So, because of the mutiple injuries to the same area of the mouth, Bennett ended up with two very loose teeth. We were scheduled to see the pedodontist first thing this morning. The dentist concurred that both baby teeth were indeed damaged and needed to be extracted immediately.
Bennett was SOOO brave. They asked him, "do you mind if we brush your teeth first?" and he replied, "yes, I do mind. I just brushed them at home." Oh, to have the honesty of a three year old. :) Anyways, he didn't shed one tear. He really astounded me by handling such a nervous situation with such calmness. I'm so proud of my Bennett Boy!
The only issue I have with the whole thing is that my 3 year old has lost his first (two) tooth(s) before my 6 year old. I hope this is not the first of many "firsts" that he will accomplish before his brother.
Remember the last time I took Chloe shopping? It was lovely, the apple display at the grocery store ended up all over the floor. So, why would I think it would be any different this time? What in the world could possibly go wrong this time? I guess I wasn't thinking clearly today. I don't know, maybe it had something to do with the only 3 hours of sleep I got last night.
So, here come Chloe and I, entering our local grocery store. Everybody runs for cover. We're well known around here by now. Normally, I also bring Gavin and Bennett each pushing their own pint-sized shopping cart, carrying their own little lists and repeatedly ramming into the backs of my heals over and over and over again - that's a whole other blog, I could write for days and days on that one. ....as I was saying...we breazed through the produce section without much fan fair.
On to the isles now. As I was bent over looking at the tremendous selection of prepackaged applesauces, Chloe reaches out and tries to grab whatever happens to be within reach. Unfortunately, it was a large can of cherries for pie filling. Fortunately for me, it didn't land on my head, rather, inches from my left foot. That was a close call.
We are now 5 minutes from check out. I am delighted with our successful little outing. It is well known that 'pride comes before a fall'. I started gloating a little too soon, obviously. How was I to know that Chloe would turn around like she was made out of rubber, grab whatever was in reach in the cart behind her and throw it to the ground like she was in the olympic shot put competition?
I had no clue what hit me, but I knew something did since I was on the floor writhing in pain. As I survey the damage, I notice a can of something (with hard, metal, round edges)that I just put in my cart on the floor next to my ankle bone that is now the size of Rhode Island and getting bigger by the second. My toes start to tingle. I begin to wonder if they will have to carry me out of here on a stretcher because my one year old threw food at her Mommy. I am shocked as I look up and see my sweet, angelic daughter looking down at me like I'm crazy.
I suddenly remember that I'm in a public place and crying or a loud scream would not be an appropriate response. I try to look behind me, but can't seem to muster the energy. The pain is throbbing. If she was trying to hit the bulls eye of the nerve endings servicing my right foot, she couldn't have been more on target. I hear people behind me talking but they are not racing toward me in aid, so I must be handling the pain in a 'civilized' enough manner.
I slowly ascend to the vertical standing position trying to look like all the other shoppers around me - on one foot only. I am now permanently impaired. I feel like I have a ball and chain attached to my right foot and have to drag it behind me. How can such a little person wreak such havoc unintentionally and within milliseconds?
I like to think that since I've had children that maybe I've mellowed a bit, become a tad bit less selfish, maybe even a little bit more mature. Nothing tested this therory like last night.
We went to bed around 11pm and woke up at 2 something to Chloe's demanding cry. She NEVER cries herself to sleep, rather, she cries herself into a frenzy. Waking in the middle of the night is a rarity for her. Typically, a small bottle will calm her back down and she goes back to sleep peacefully. We've even nick-named her "Sleeping Beauty" because she sleeps so soundly and doesn't stir until around 9:30 or 10 in the morning. Obviously, tonight she had other plans.
After attempting the bottle-and-back-to-sleep routine twice, Chuck & I were at a loss of what to do next. For the sake of sleep, we decided to try letting her sleep with us. Wrong choice. This appeared to stimulate her even further. Time to implement Plan C. We weren't sure what it was, but we were desperate to get back to sleep. In steps 'tough love'. We reasoned (with whatever minute ability we had at that wee hour in the morning) that she was going to have to learn to put herself back to sleep eventually; no better time to start learning that than the present. 45 minutes later, after non-stop crying and still no sleep on our part, we caved and brought miss wiggle worm back in bed with us.
The complexity of this test now jumps to the next level. I now realize that I have a horrific headache. Chuck kindly got up and got me two migraine pills which only succeeded in keeping me awake due to the high level of caffine in them. As my head is throbbing, Plan D starts to formulate. Come 4am, I decided it was time to cut our losses, at least one of us was going to have to get some sleep. I told Chuck that I would take Chloe upstairs and sleep with her on the guest bed so he could get some shut eye for at least an hour. How was I to know that the other two children in our family were laying wide awake upstairs in their bedroom. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was like 85 degrees upstairs.
As I try to settle Chloe down in a new stimulating environment, I hear faint whispers outside of the door and then little pitter patters up and down the stairs. Chuck does not pitter patter, so it must be the boys, I reason. Yet, I lay there clueless and still awake for another 45 minutes. Almost three hours later and we have achieved succes! Chloe has finally drifted off to sleep. I tip-toe out after surrounding her with pillows, since she's still on the big bed and I go check on the boys who of course are dying of thirst, that is why they are laying there wide awake at 4:45 in the morning. I relent and tell them I'll run down and get them some water, because I too, am sweating up in the sauna we call upstairs. Plus, my head is still pounding and I decide to get some more medicine before I scream and wake Chloe up again.
Once I get down stairs, Chuck comes to greet me, saying he's just going to go to work. Going back to sleep is just a pipe dream at this point. I agree and kiss him goodbye. I head back upstairs with water in hand. Yet again, another plan is popping into my head. Obviously, the wee hours of the morning are very productive for my brain. Plan E is about to take effect.
I ask the boys if they would like to cuddle with me and Chloe on Chloe's bed. The clincher was that they would have to be VERY still and VERY quiet. I'm given ample promises and we all head over to Chloe's room. I begin to question my sanity. I whisper the order of the sleeping arrangement to each child and we disperse to our assigned places with stealth precision. So far, my plan is a success. Gavin, Chloe and I are all parallel while Bennet is laying perpendicular to us at our feet. This was a tricky plan for me being that geometry was involved - I was never very good at geometry.
I believe the boys fell asleep somewhere around 5:30. I lay there listening to the unique sounds each chid makes while sleeping. Their breathing patterns are all heavy and rhythmic, yet they don't lull me to sleep. I find it just a tad bit ironic, that today, of all days, we have to leave the house around 8am, meaning I will most likely have to wake everyone up. And I have to do it with only 3 1/2 hours of sleep under my belt. Making rational decisions might be a little challenging for me today. Thankfully, God's grace is not dependent on how much sleep I procured the night before. :)
