A morning in the life of a domesticated housewife...

My alarm already? Really? It is only 4 am! May be he will go back to sleep? Oh wait, he is quiet again. There he goes again and wait...silence.

I wake to the alarm again at 5 am! He is not going back to sleep without some help. I nudge my husband and he begrudgingly rolls out of bed, throws on his shirt and patiently tends to our son in the next room. Its only fair after all since I will be up with him for the day around 6 anyway while he lounges in bed until eight thirty when our two year old son wakes. I drift in and out of sleep for the next hour while our eight month old, Evan, makes his daddy work. It is now ten after six and there is no sign of Evan going back to sleep. Damn. What a way to start the day!

I shuffle down the hall and open his door, throw the lights on and with a not so cheery good morning, greet my little night hawk! He smiles and wiggles in his excitement to see me. I pull him out of his crib and he snuggles into my neck and wraps his wee arms around me. That is enough to get me through the next couple of hours I think! He nurses, stops to stare at me, reach for my face and then back to the business of nursing. He begins to play with my hair and tries and sit up, so I gather he is finished and I change his diaper and head downstairs. The lights are out and it is still dark outside. I turn on the kitchen light to realize I wish I had never turned it on. It was masking the disaster I left my kitchen in last night. I resolve to clean it later, after Evan goes down for his first nap.

Plunking Evan down at his toy barn, I pour myself a glass of water and then another. Taking my vitamins, I grab an apple and sit down at the computer to check on the progress of my friends that are rocking the detox with me. There are a few updates and everyone seems to be doing well. Even a delicious turkey chili recipe and I make a mental note to put ground turkey on the grocery list. I look over at Evan who is bouncing in time to the music that his barn is playing and he giggles. I smile, may be today won't be as bad as I originally anticipated? I sit and stare at the mass of produce on my counter and try to decide what fruit to eat for breakfast. I decide on a banana and some grapes to start and throw some bread in the toaster and cut up some pears for little man.

By now the sun is rising and there is a soft pink hue to the sky. The snow seems almost lavender as the darkness retreats. The stark trees rise like dark fingers from the earth towards the sky. I take a deep breath and live in the moment. The moment is broken by Evan gagging on his breakfast and he proceeds to throw half of it up. Lovely. I clean him up and gently remind him about chewing his food! I look at the clock and wonder where the last two hours have disappeared to? Challenge time. Evan's first nap.

I carry him up the stairs and step in something wet. Ugh, spit up. I grab the closest rag which is a dirty bib, toss it on the floor and wipe it up using my foot. I leave the bib on the floor and climb the stairs. I weave in and out of the mountainous range of laundry piles that litter the hall. Entering his room I approach his crib and set it up for nap. "Blankie goes down here. Here is sleepy bear, your extra zaza's and big brown bear to watch over you." We kiss the giraffe on his night stand and sit in our chair for a little milk. He passed out upon contact with the nipple. Damn! So much for putting him down awake. I guess his escapades earlier this morning have caught up with. As I stare down at his sweet little cherub face, enjoying the stillness, the quiet and closeness, I live in the moment. Then pondering whether or not I will catch a quick morning nap or head downstairs to tackle the natural disaster that is my main floor, I lay him down in his crib and cover him with his blankie. I shut his door, tripped over a pile of laundry and decided I needed to go back to bed.

I crawl into bed beside my sleeping husband and snuggle in. The sheets smell like him and were warm and inviting. He wiggled his shoulders indicating he wants me to tickle his back. Since having the kids the poor man has been neglected. Usually when he asks for a tickle, I am too tired. This morning was no expception so I indulge him in a quick tickle before retiring to a peaceful slumber. "Ahhahahahahahaaaaaaa...no monsters..." My two year old, Connor, is up! Matt clambers out of bed and I remind him to keep him quiet. I hear him greet Connor and Connor begins his daily ramblings. His daddy reminds him to be quiet. "The baby is sleeping." I wake to the sound of the alarm again! It can't have been an hour yet?! I am right unfortunately. He has only slept for a half hour again. I am frustrated and I can feel my heart start racing and the anxiety of what we are going to do with this non napping baby fills me. I feel the tears well up in my eyes and they are hot. I take a deep breath and try to remember the sweet little cherub face sound asleep in my arms. I opt to take a shower and hope he falls back to sleep.

My shower is my sanctuary. No screaming children, no messy kitchen. Just hot water streaming over my tired body. I turn the water just a little hotter. It is just barely tolerable, but feels so good. I finally concede to get out of the shower and deal with Mr. No Nap. I towel off and go in search of some clean underwear that I left in the dryer. Pulling on some socks, old, grubby track pants and a t-shirt, I draw in a deep breath, exhale and enter Mr. No Naps room. I find his zaza (or soother), rub his bum and tell him nap time is not over yet. I muster up the courage to leave knowing full well the conclusion that is coming. "Waaaaaaaaaaaa..." I close the door and find my bed. My brain is racing about what to do next. If I keep going in he will keep crying for me because he knows I will be back. If I don't go back in, he will get the point that it is naptime and learn to fall asleep. The problem is, I feel guilty leaving him. With Connor I was able to follow through no problem during sleep training. Evan has been a different story. Is it guilt I feel for wishing his babyhood away? Is it guilt for thinking for a second that may be two children was a mistake? Which, by the way, is not how I feel now. It was a moment of panic prior to his birth and occasionally during bad periods of sleep deprivation. He is the sweetest little cuddle monster and I wouldn't trade having them both for anything. Ok, I need to make a plan. Wait...is that silence? Yes! Score one for mommy! I didn't even have to make a plan! I decide to head downstairs and tackle the kitchen.

As I come down the stairs, Connor sees me and runs over yelling, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!" Music to my ears! "Hi Bean!!" and I scoop him up into my arms and smother him with kisses. I put him down and he returns to play "struction" or construction with his building blocks. I look at the mess and immediately start to well up. How could so much destruction happen in one measley day? Yesterday morning the kitchen was tidy, the toys put away and you could see the top of the kitchen table. In a mere twenty-four hours, the house looks like a hurrican came through. This detox is creating lots of mess! All the prep work, cooking and cleaning. For a moment, I wonder if it is all worthwhile. I remember the women doing the detox with me and I think, what would they do? They would clean up the mess and start all over again because we are going to rock the detox! While the kitchen sink is filling, I organize the dishes into dishwasher, tupperware and pots and pans. "Waaaaaaaa..." Mr. No Nap is up! Great! Matt goes up for a rescue. I begin the mundane task of washing the same dishes I washed yesterday. It's the same god damn thing everyday. Normally, I would finish the dishes and reward my hardwork with something sweet. Like the hot chocolate sitting on the counter. Temptation starts to take over and then is knocked down by something. What is that? Willpower? Where have you been all these years?

I attempt to get through the dishes amongst Connor's pleas "Where is the wrench?" which he repeats at nauseam and Evan has a constant whine happening. My head is swirling, the tears are rolling and I want to smash the dishes on the floor and yell at everyone to shut the F$%! up! I refrain, draw in another deep breath and instead of reaching for the hot chocolate or the bag of Chipits in the cupboard, I call my mom. We talk about Evan's night and what her plans are for the day. I tell her I am overwhelmed with the amount of mess in the house. We joke about how Matt is sitting on the couch as I wash mounds of dishes while the crumbs from last night's dinner are waiting for me on the floor beneath the children's seats. She is going for a work out and then to visit my Grandmother in the nursing home. Probably something I should be doing as well. After we hang up, Matt picks up the broom and begins sweeping! Point taken! I decide to start prepping my fruits for the juicer. Connor chips in and helps me with the Mighty Machine! He evens asks to have some fresh juice! Score! Now, to clean the damn juicer. I opt to have some cuddles with Connor instead! My mood is lifting again as I play with the boys and hear them giggle. "I want a snack please," Connor tells me. God, I love that he can talk now!

I sit both the boys down in their chairs and proceed to cut up some cheese, crackers and strawberries for Connor. As I sit and watch them eat their snack, I marvel at how fast the time is passing. They look at each other and start to giggle again. This is what I signed up for! They are beginning to interact more and more with each other as each day passes. I secretly hope they are best friends growing up. My brother and I were five years apart and I feel like we were never really that close. Even now, I hardly see him or speak to him. I wanted my children to be close in age. Mind you, seveteen and a half months is very close and perhaps a little closer than we anticipated. I muse at the fact that Connor was Evan's age when I got pregnant with Evan! Wow! I conclude that two is definitely the right number. I am not sure I can handle doing this sleep deprivation gig a third time. As they finish up snack, Evan is getting cranky and I decide that a proper nap is order again, except that Connor has spilled his drink on the carpet and is sitting dumbfounded. "What happened?" he says over and over. "It's o.k. honey, we will clean it up." Matt grabs the carpet cleaner and we soak up the dark stain until it is hardly noticeable. "Alright, Mr. No Nap, time for a nap!"

I scoop up Evan again and we march upstairs, again, to try for a nap. It is now eleven thirty and he should be good and tired since it has been two and a half hours since his last "nap". "...and Gerry Giraffe says have a good nap". We cosy into the rocker and he latches before I am even in position. I watch him drink and think how beautiful he is. How can such a beautiful being create so much tension? I choose to leave that topic for another time. As he finishes up his meal, he pops off and smacks his ruby red lips a few times and drifts off. Damn! I guess we won't be putting him down awake again. I see his face. So perfect. I draw him in close to me and kiss his forehead. He smells incredulous. His warm little body is nestled in my arms and I never want to let him go. I choose to live in the moment for just a little longer.