Wednesday quick hits

Last night, Jim and I went on a bedtime strike. By accident. Jim had started a project in Fiona's room that lasted a little too long. I wanted to watch American Idol. Yeah, I know. Don't judge. It's my guilty pleasure. And, by God, I was going to watch it live last night if I had to tie the little boogers to their beds. Monday night's bedtime experiment was not pleasant at all. We tried letting them sleep in the same room and Fiona started hitting Danny. So instead of trying to get the kids to bed last night, I decided to just ignore them.

And it actually worked. Danny came down and watched Idol with me, while Fiona hung out with Jim. Jim came down and watched the rest of Idol with us. Fiona threw a shoe down the stairs but stayed upstairs. We sent Danny to bed at 9 and he went. For the next half hour, we heard some noises as they played in Fiona's room. By the time Jim went to bed, Danny was asleep on the floor in Fiona's room. Fiona was next to him reading a book. It seems that the frustrating factor in the bedtime routine is ... us. Who knew?

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If most of my one-year-old's food winds up on the floor, why is this kid pooping four times a day? Just another mystery that I may never solve. (It occurred to me the other day that I likely have two more years of diapers. Deep breath ... one day at a time.)

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I'm pretty sarcastic around my kids. I often wonder whether my children will misunderstand the meaning of such words as "fantastic" or "genius." For instance, will they believe that geniuses put their jackets on upside down or that spilling a pot of coffee whilst scaling the kitchen counter really is fantastic?

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The baby can now climb up on the sofa. He actually runs back and forth on the cushions. Clearly, I am now going to have to get rid of ALL the furniture. There is really no other way to keep him safe.

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Speaking of the baby, I used to call him "snuggle-up-a-gus" and think it was super cute and endearing when he would nestle against my chest and suck his thumb. Now he follows me around, arms outstretched like a zombie and moaning, until I pick him up. His new nicknames are "barnacle" and "zombie boy." Of course, he still nestles in and sucks his thumb, but only after wiping his nose one some part of my body. It's not quite as charming, but still quite nice.