Happy Hour

I think it’s funny that to some people, 5:00 pm. is “happy hour.” Actually, is it five? Is it six? I don’t even know.

Because here, there are a lot of words I might use to describe the hours of 5:00-6:30. “Happy” does not really come to mind. 🙂

Today I was flying solo for the nighttime routine. It’s a good thing I have a good sense of humor, because otherwise I might have been gritting my teeth, yelling at my children, and sweating profusely from stress and frenzy. (Ahem.)

In a span of 30 minutes, the following things had taken place:

• Sam and Ty both climbed into the pack-n-play to have a wrestling match. Actually, that is not why Ty climbed into the pack-n-play. Which explains the screaming, clawing, crying, and whining.
• Sam had a meltdown because Ty was in the pack-n-play.
• Ty pooped.
• Sam pooped.
• Sam wiped his bottom with his hands. (Don’t ask.)
• Sam had a meltdown because “his legs hurt to move.”
• Sam had a meltdown because Ty dumped out some letters.
• Ty ate some Vicks Vapor Rub.
• We went upstairs.
• Ty fell down the stairs. Ty cried.
• Sam “fell” down the stairs. Sam “cried.”
• Ty dumped out 150 plastic animals.
• Sam dumped out 26 magnetic letters.
• Ty and Sam had a wrestling match in their indoor tent. Ty started crying. Sam started crying.
• We went downstairs.
• Ty threw a tantrum because I wiped his face off.
• Sam had a meltdown because “he wasn’t tired.”
• Ty brushed his teeth with my toothbrush.
• Ty took Sam’s “hokie bird.” Sam grabbed it back. They both cried.
• Sam did a “cool move” off the bed which involved landing knees-first, and crying hysterically in pain from the impact. (We won’t try that again.)
• We climbed the stairs for bed. Both boys were crying. Neither knew why. One protested vehemently that he wasn’t tired, and demanded to play a game.
• Sam, Ty, and I rocked on the rocking chair. Sam kept kicking me. Ty wanted to get down.
• We went to bed.

I will finish by saying that the clock may or may not have read “6:27” when the boys were in their beds, which I would have felt bad about, but at least one of them was sleeping eight minutes later. I guess the happy hour wears on all of us! 🙂

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