The Going Rate for World Series Tickets...

The Nats just swept the Cardinals in the playoffs.  They're going to the World Series. 

My daughter mentioned she'd like to go to a game.  I explained, "I get first dibs."  She pulled up a text of her dad saying he'd like to go to a game with her. 

I explained, "I outrank you." 

She left to work in the kitchen.  She made chocolate covered strawberries.   "Would you like one?" she asked.

I suspect, I've been bribed. 

Over at Aleteia Today

Hopefully, we'll both be healthier and holier. Thanks Peter.

Now, I have to fulfill my part of the deal.  

Night Shift

New moms get all the breaks. People advise them, "Sleep when the babies sleep," and bring ice cream.  Friends and family suggest date nights and "taking time for me."  

It makes sense.  Rookies need time to adjust to the reality of motherhood, which is not baby waking hours but every hour since the baby first came to be.   I used to joke, parent hours are from five a.m. to twelve midnight, but that was before I had teenagers.

Between teens on dates, teens with jobs, track and field hockey and all the other treats of summer, the window of non-necessary time has shortened on both ends.  My body is missing that extra hour.  Last night, I dreamed I was sleeping.  How tired do you have to be to have your subconscious fantasize about being unconscious?  

My daughter laughed when she saw "Sleep" on my to do list for the day, but I'm serious.

Last night, the four year old came to us at midnight because she had nightmares.  After cuddling, she took herself back to bed at one.  I figured, good for the night.  The light went on at 1:30.  A teen wanted a snack.   The light went on at 4 a.m.  My youngest son needed a change.  He had the grace to curl up at my feet in his blanket after I cleaned him up, but I hadn't the energy or the will to move him.   At 4:30, the four year old returned.  No reason, she just got in bed.

Within fifteen minutes, both children slept perpendicular to the bed, giving me a pillow sized space in between.  I cursed myself for checking the time.   Forty-five minutes until the first alarm.

I could get up, get a jump on the day, get dressed...I'd just opted "No." when  the son with cross country tryouts came running down the stairs to make sure I was awake so he wouldn't be late.

My brain sang a version of the Lego song in the shower.

Everything is awful.
Everything hurts when you don't ever sleep.
Everything is awful
....when you don't get to dream.

A diet coke later, I'm on the road wondering if it would be better if the teenager with a learner's permit took the wheel when he told me I drove like an old lady.   I'd sat at the red light musing about the idea of doing nothing all day for several days.   I imagined floating down a river, sitting at a pool, and feeling strained to open a book, lift a fork or even flip over to tan evenly.   The light turned green.

I told him, there is never a situation when calling someone an old lady is a compliment, it was very early, I hadn't slept and it was closer to home than the school such that his taxi felt taxed to be transportation at this point in the day.  

He had the grace to mend his speech....though the substitute of Wise for Old, wasn't too much of an improvement.

Worse, my body is starting to adjust, to wake up after four hours, expecting to have to do something.

So I've begun strategizing.  There isn't a manual for parents of older children on how to get them to understand, you're closed.  I've tried saying the Internet and the server is down, I'm going offline, off the grid, I'm done, but they don't understand my being tired if they're not.

In the meantime, I've crafted the beginnings of a plan.

First Rule:  Post hours of operation, pad the hours on both ends.  

Second Rule: Have incentives for teens who allow 8 hours that rival Price is Right Showcase Showdowns.  Pay for each hour over six you're allowed to rest.  I've got a coupon for Amazon and one for pizza.  All yours if I get to Carpe Diem the night.

Third Rule:   If all else fails, I'm  finding a cheap artsy movie theatre and wearing dark sun glasses. I will pay for the opportunity to sit still for three hours.  I just hope I don't snore.

If a Blogger Doesn't Post

And the viewing count goes up...

How much of my readership is spam bots seeking to tell me, "Great post. I really love how you handled a difficult subject, why not check out my website that sells widgets?"

Hope they were amused.  

For the rest of you...

Ten Signs You are the Mother of Multiple Teens

10) None of the food you must buy is for you. And what you do buy for you, gets eaten...but not by you.

9) If in a moment of weakness you take a bit from the candy bar that has sat in the refrigerator since Christmas, you will be branded a bad mother and reminded of said incident at every possible opportunity.  Reparations will be insufficient.

8) You have to wait your turn and then allow for interruptions of that turn, on the desktop.  When you do get the computer, people will sit behind you watching, staring, trying to start conversations. Don't be fooled.  If you engage, they will then ask to use the machine. 

7) You get text messages at 3 in the morning saying, "I can't sleep."

 

6) A child will greet you in the morning with, "Why Did You Clean Up the Bathroom?"

 

5) No one ever goes to bed or gets up on time but you despite multiple alarm clocks, buzzers, etc....including the one who sends 3 o'clock messages.  

 

4) Any suggestions during lull periods of the year by me that one might join a club are met with "I don't have time."  When  in the midst of SAT preparation, play rehearsal and regular studies a child announces he or she is considering the track team, my response of "Are you nuts?" is considered a sign that I do not support them getting involved and having a life. 

 

3) The level of annoyance to siblings exponentially increases the likelihood of a behavior continuing.  Hint to Older Children: NEVER SAY "I Hate That Song..." You are guaranteed 24 hours of earworm hell.    

 

2) Homework is best remembered after 10 p.m.

 

1) Without telling them I've gone to the bank, they always sense if my wallet has money.