Christmas 2012 - Thompson Style

We just got back from a wonderfully refreshing time in northern CA with my family. The Thompson's are a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type of family. They can have a good time anywhere. Throw three kids ages three and under into the mix and it's an instant party. There were seven adults and three kids in one house for eigtht days. The sleeping arrangements were...interesting.

We had one kid on either side of us. I knew the one-year-old talked in his sleep, but WOW. He's almost as active asleep as he is awake. The baby slept in my parents' closet. He normally sleeps for 12 hours, but the day we arrived he decided to start his two week growth spurt. He woke everyone up in the wee hours of the morning - EVERY morning. Sorry about that, Mom and Dad.

One of the best parts of the trip was spending time with my sister Rachel from Oklahoma. We went out to coffee and talked until we couldn't breath. There's nothing ordinary about my sister. Even a basic converstaion with her can be interesting:

Rachel: Do you have a bottle of asprin? I'm getting a headache.
Me: Sure.

Me: Here you go.
Rachel: What's this for?
Me: Um...didn't you JUST ask me for some asprin?
Rachel. Oh. Yeah.

Me: Wow.
Rachel: Oh my gosh, Sara. There's a lot going on. Don't judge me.

She's not the only one. My parents are out of control. I know they resisted buying as many toys as they wanted to, but somehow we still came home with half of Toys R Us. Maybe it wouldn't have been so much if they hadn't ALSO bought them toys when we were out and about.

Me: Mom, where did they get those trains?
Mom: They didn't want to put them down, honey.
Me: So...you bought them?
Mom: I couldn't resist!

I guess it's okay for Grandma and Grandpa to break the rules. Besides, if they did, William was right there to remind them. He's the rule police everywhere we go.

"We don't say hate."

"We don't say butt."

"We don't refer to Santa as a satanic materialist who teaches works righteousness and must be destroyed."

In general the kids handled the festivities surprisingly well. The one-year-old was the one we had to watch the closest. Within five minutes of waking up from his nap he had -

- opened presents that weren't his and eaten cat food. But that seemed to satisfy his curiosity and he was a little easier after that. In general they were content and thankfull little boys throughout the trip. They loved spending time with thier relatives and they enjoyed thier gifts. Although, when all was said and done, the gifts they enjoyed the most were -

- the ones they could hit Grandpa with. Those turned out to be the punching baloons from Uncle Matt and wrapping paper tubes.

We came home exhausted but with full hearts.

I figure if I unpack a bag a day starting today I might be done by Valentine's Day. I'm in noooooooo hurry.

Bedtime Routine

Bedtime. Just when the day is supposed to be winding down, I have to muster up every last ounce of energy I have left and plunge into the bedtime routine. Before kids the day would end all by itslef. Now we have to force it to come to a close, armed with milk, jammies, books, kisses, and tons of patience.

First, bathtime. Bathtime doesn't happen every night. Actually, since having baby #3, we only bath the children when they are going to be out in public for a significant length of time. So don't show up unannounced.

After bathtime I lay towels down to soak up the flood of water on the floor and hustle the kids into their room for jammies. If I don't act fast, someone will pee on the floor - usually within about two minutes. Sometimes bad attitudes flare up around this time of night and someone winds up on time-out. George loves time-out. The last time I went to check on him I found out why.

They are not technically supposed to bring toys with them to time-out, but I can't really blame him - considering I have forgotten he was there more than once...

Another tactic I've been using lately for bad attitudes is imitating the kids to show them how aweful it sounds when they fuss.

This is also quite effective. The fussing stops instantly. They are either thinking, "Wow, we sound terrible when we fuss," or, "Our mother is crazy. Let's obey so she doesn't eat us." Either way, it works.

Time for the pass off. Right about the time the kids go to Daddy, the baby wakes up. I get some one on one baby snuggle time while Dave reads to the kids.

I rejoin the other two when it's time to get tucked in. No fussing this time. The kids actually love going to bed. I bust out "I've Got Joy Like a Fountain" at the top of my lungs. It doesn't help the headache, but it's their nightly request.

Before turning off the lamp and starting the baby lullabye CD, I check in with the three-year-old's potty routine. If he skips it he will be up at all hours of the night.

Me: Did you go potty, William?
William: Sorry, Mommy. The poop was not available.

Me: (sigh)
William: I make you tired.

I close the door to the sound of their sweet voices comforting each other in the darkness. I check on them after they fall asleep and straighten their covers, lay their stuffed animals next to them, and tuck in arms and legs hanging over the bed or through the crib slats. No matter how exhausting it is, I know this is the part of thier childhood I will treasure the most.