Night Owl

I'm a night owl at heart. I could sleep till noon and stay up till 2 if it wasn't for this thing called kids, or school, or responsibilities. I get the most energy around 9 pm - I use that term "energy" loosely these days. I can get more done. I'm not saying that because my children are asleep in bed, but that might play a small factor. It's just when I feel the need to start laundry, clean, and organize.

Let me tell you what else I love about our nighttime routine:

Marty Cat. I don't know what it is, but she becomes a loud, vocal, well known presence as soon as you start turning lights off. She will meow REPETITIVELY walking around the house as if wondering where we all went. My house would not be the same without her weird meowing concert every night.

Mickey and Merlin. They pass out rather early in the living room or wherever I might be. But when it's time to go to bed, they quickly sit up with their hair half matted to the side of their face and their tongues sticking out. It's like I woke them to get out of a fire, they are that startled and dazed.

My favorite - Cole and Brad. We've learned our trick into getting off the pull ups at night and staying dry. We wake them up around 11:30 or midnight and take them to the bathroom. Once they go, they can make it all the way to morning without accidents. I haven't had to limit their water or change up anything else. Since I'm usually awake, it isn't a big deal. Keith usually helps me with this, in fact he says it's his favorite time of the day.

We grab a kid and carry them into the bathroom. This always shocks me because Cole is almost the entire length of me. He's getting so heavy. Sometimes I just have enough support under his arms, sometimes I cradle him like a goat... whatever works. He's so big. They are total dead weight and are out to the world. We stand them up in front of the toilet, but it's a drunk stance, you have to hold their backs because they would hit the floor if they could!

We pull their pants down and nudge them to the rim. The entire time their eyes are closed with their heads bobbing and nodding forward and back like they are standing in a canoe. Then it happens, like old men, they start scratching and rubbing their bellies, their hair, their legs. They can hardly concentrate over all the itching they feel is necessary.

They each go and as we get them situated, we make them walk back to the bed. They are hitting the walls and often roam into various parts of the house with no clear direction in mind. Keith and I guide them to the bed where they fall over. Sometimes with legs still on the floor, Cole is perfectly content spending the rest of the evening there. Sometimes they babble crazy, undecipherable things as my little zombies crawl up to their pillows. We cover them back up and just laugh at how funny and small they still are.

My days of carrying them are numbered. And my time of midnight roundup will be over before I know it. I will miss them at this time and all the belly scratching, bed head, dried drooled cheeks. Sweet dreams my boys.