Now I know why Theresa sleeps on the couch

We didn't even make it into bed last night before the boys decided to join us.

I had just moved them from our bed into their cribs. (They refuse to go to sleep in their cribs anymore.) Noah was on his stomach, and it's difficult to turn him over onto his back to carry him 'cause he'll just flip back over onto his belly before I can scoop him up. So, I'm carrying him into their bedroom to put him into his crib, and his arms and legs are just dangling around my arms while his head nested precariously on my right bicep. Then I went back and got Grayson.

Apparently the ride over was a little too unsettling for Noah, and then when I dropped Grayson into his own crib, the noise was just too much, which got Noah howling, which got Grayson howling, which got them both trips back to "the green bed" (take a breath) after I tried rocking them to sleep in the glider to no avail. (by the way, that take a breath back there was actually an instruction for you, not a part of my narrative.I'd hate to have you pass out at your monitor solely due to my run-on sentences!)

Anyway, Theresa and I got ready for bed and the boys were moving around trying to get comfortable. Generally the configuration goes something like this (from left to right, looking up from the foot of the bed): me, Grayson, Noah, Theresa. And that's how it was last night.

The boys were settling down and Theresa and I were reading on our respective sides of the bed. Theresa's light went out first, and I think Noah and Grayson were both pretty much out by then. My light went out not long after that.

One thing that you should know about me, before I go on, is that I am a very sound sleeper. I can't tell you the last time that I remembered a dream. Generally, once I'm gone, I'm out for the duration. That being said, I was awakened at some point (I have no idea by what, but I have a pretty good idea by whom.) Theresa had already been flushed from her side of the bed. Actually, now that I think about it, I think I do know what awakened me. The pain that I was experiencing in my neck from having my head hang over the side of the bed. Grayson had his head wedged against the left side of my head, as I lay on my back. Apparently he had been leveraging himself against Noah's feet, as they both lay sideways across the bed with Noah's head being on the far side. And Grayson managed to move me into a less than comfortable sleeping position. The situation needed to be remedied before I could carry on with my much needed rest, so I twirled the boys into the proper position, Grayson clockwise and Noah anti-clockwise. (I was just working with a Brit, and it's amazing how quickly you pick things up - kind of like an accent when you're in the south.) (Although he called the intersection of two streets junctions rather than intersections, and I never seemed to pick that up.)

So, I drifted off to sleep.

Speaking of which, that reminds me of something that I was going to write about a few days ago.

Think of the social circle that you currently travel in. (If you have no social life, perhaps you can subsitute co-workers or neighbors. If none of those fit your situation, insert random strangers.) Inevitably, some of the individuals that you know will be older than you, and others will be younger. I suppose if you are really, really, really old, that may not apply to you, but I think for most of you, it will. Among that group will be a man of approximately fifty years of age. Picture that man going to sleep at night. (I'll leave the specifics up to your imagination.) Now, think about that moment right between awareness and slumber. Ideas, thoughts, images float through your head that may have no connection to anything other than your what your subconscious may be kicking around right then. How many of those fifty year old men do you picture with this running through their head?

When a fifty year old man has three children aged five and under, asking for the same song to be played over and over again on the way home from school, it is not very surprising what gets stuck in the ol' subconscious!

So, where was I? Oh yes, drifting off to sleep.

Until I awoke with Grayson furiously grinding the top of his skull into my chin.

We have very tactile children. All of them love being held, cuddled, touched. Often, after waking, Grayson will reach over and stroke the stubble on my cheek, first against the grain, then with it, feeling the difference in coarse roughness and lighter texture. Last weekend, I gave the boys their usual buzz cut with my twenty dollar Sav-On clippers. I believe that he was showing me that his week old stubble was stronger than my overnight growth.

And if you need something else to go to sleep by, I might recommend this:

(OK, so the audio is less than audiophile quality, but you get the idea!)

Oh, to be two...

As we age, our priorities change.

Relationships. Careers. Faith. Any number of things impact the things that we do, and the importance that we attach to any particular item.

I don't remember events from when I was two years old. I have no conscious memories of people or things. I'm fairly certain, though, that all kinds of things happened to me, around me, and because of me when I was two.

By now, you know of the Hernandez household sleeping habits. I don't know of the common-ness, or uncommon-ness of two year olds wandering around in the middle of the night, and ending up in their parents bed, but I would expect, because of the nature of two-year-olds, that ours is not too uncommon an experience. So, what are you blathering on about, man, just get to whatever it is you have to say! Fine.

Last night Theresa transferred the boys from our bed to their cribs as she and I got ready for bed. I was finishing up on something on the computer when Grayson wandered in. I tried to rock him for a bit and put him back in his crib, which he would have none of, so he joined us in bed right off the bat.

Theresa is a lighter sleeper than I, and for some reason, the boys' movements and flailing and general thrashing about tend to wake her. I sleep through much of it. So I put Grayson down beside me, opposite the side where Theresa lay. And we all drifted off to sleep. (I may be fuzzy on the order of this stuff, but rest assured, it all happened.)

Then Grayson fell out of bed. We have a king-sized bed, double pillow-topped mattress, which upper surface is precisely 27 inches above a hardwood floor. And his head fell between the steel rail frame and the solid oak end table with raised moulding and corners for additional damage potential. Which makes it all the more surprising that all I had to do was pick him up, say "that's okay", kiss him on the head, and he drifted right off back to sleep!

Noah joined us at some point, which woke Grayson up, which woke me up. Naturally, Theresa was already awake. Everyone settled down, and drifted back off. Then someone lost their "paci". (The only time they use these now is when they go to sleep at home. They don't use them at school nap-time, nor any other time. We started to ween them, then I started this current program, and my traveling interrupted their schedule. I'm going to try to terminate their use with the upcoming completion of this program at the end of the week.) I had to track it down for him. As I looked, I noticed that Theresa was missing. Theresa had already apparently had enough, and headed to the couch downstairs looking for greener pastures.

Paci found, all was well again. The next time I awoke, my arm was entangled in Grayson's legs as if we were making a human basket. I'm not quite sure how we did this, but it did prove to be an impediment to my sleep.

Shortly, Noah was calling for his paci. I rummaged around, finding it on the floor and stuffing it back in his mouth.

Behavior of this sort continued, more or less, throughout the night. Now I have a better understanding of why Theresa surrenders the bed to the kids, and looks for slumber elsewhere.

For those of you that know that we have a guest room, and are wondering why Theresa just doesn't go in there and lie down (come on... do I really have to tell you why?) As I'm sure is true of most guest rooms, when our guest room is not being occupied by a guest, the bed becomes yet another flat surface for storage of items that should have been thrown out long ago.

The only rather amazing part of the evening was that Mattea ended up sleeping in her own bed the entire night.

So, what does all of this have to to with priorities? Nothing. I just know how much you enjoy hearing of our night-time experiences.

I actually do, though, have an observation regarding things important to the boys right now.

Both boys have been working very hard on their potty training. They have progressed to the point where they wear underwear during the day (except at nap time), and have reduced accidents to the exception, rather than the rule. And many mornings, they wake up dry as well.

Two years old is a time of curiousity, wonderment and experimentation, and being the curious types, the brothers want to watch each other as they use the facilities. Two years old is also a time of possesion obsession. This can lead to never imagined scenarios.

On Saturday, Grayson told me that he had to go poop. I was grateful for this, as the prospect of him not telling me, and going anyway, is a less than pleasant alternative. So off we went, with Noah not far behind.

The boys toilet habits are a bit unorthodox. They must strip from the waist down to properly prepare. Once this has been accomplished, they step up onto the toilet seat, and walk around until they face front and lower themselves into a straddling position atop the seat. Although this may not be how you or I would approach the situation, it seems to work reasonably well for them. As might be expected, they both "saddle up" this way. (I would imagine that one learned it from the other, but I don't know which one did it first.)

So Grayson is comfortably arranged, and tends to business. Upon completion, Noah has somehow worked his way around me, and is approaching the toilet. Grayson sees what Noah is headed for, and apparently, based on prior experience yells "Don't flush my poop!"