I was going to tell you all about the fun time we had last week at the pool and show you the cute pics. And I still will. But I can't think about that right now. Because I'm home with the munchies by myself and it's naptime. NEWS FLASH: NAPS AREN'T GOING WELL IN BIG BOY BEDS.
Yeah. Today is day 5. They've taken a "nap" two of the four previous Big Boy Bed days. I am still clinging to a shred of hope that Big Boy Beds does not mean than the afternoon nap is over - that they are just temporarily derailed due to the absolute funness off Big Beds. Because I just don't think I can handle that. I NEED naptime. My family needs me to HAVE naptime! Or they won't eat or have clean clothes. EVER.
I put them down at 1:30 today, about 30 minutes late, but I have my reasons. (Like an airport run, impromptu visit and Sam's Club.) I figure that it wouldn't matter because they just mess around the first hour or two of nap anyhow.
I hear a lot of talking, giggling, then squealing and jumping. Things are escalating in there, not winding down. So I check on them around 30 minutes. They are both in their beds, but they both have their pants off! The room reeks of poo, too. Immediately, my mind floods with stories told of kids who "decorate" their bedrooms with poo during naptime, like my mother-in-law, who LOVES to tell me this! (It wasn't hubby, but one of his sibs.) N's diaper is hanging like a plumber's pants and I know he's been trying to take it off. And I don't blame him. It's nasty stuff he's got in there. As I approach, I see it. On his sheets, his comforter, his legs, and the rug. The RUG! That can only mean one thing - he's been escaping! Which is confirmed by the presence of the Children's Bible in his bed. Maybe he was praying and interceding that I would arrive to change him?
Hasitly, I change him, change his sheets, digging out new sheets and blankets to the chorus of M saying, "Poo too! Poo too!" because he, of course, was also poopy. Thank goodness it was...uh, firmer, and did not necessitate and entire change of bedding. Still, the whole twins-pooping-simultaneously isn't so cute anymore. Not that it ever was, but it's...getting old.
(Sigh) It could have been worse. Nothing was truly "decorated," although I think it could have happened if I hadn't arrived when I did.
Now we're well into the second hour of "nap," headed toward the point of no return, since I can still hear the monkeys chattering and kitties meowing (that's M's new thing) and generally still NOT settling down. See, the point of no return is the moment when I give up on nap and resign myself to a cranky CRABBY night with the munchies, which is exacerbated by the fact that Hubs is out of town and I'm solo tonight.
There is a silver lining, however: no-nap days end peacefully and quickly with a relatively easy and early bedtime.
I often wonder how our parents survived toddlerhood?