Little Mr. Bedtime 'Routine'

There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us. These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be.

I plan to share one of these every Thursday. They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.


We don't have a strict bedtime routine.  Our kids go to bed about 9pm.  Some would say that is too late.  Let them say it.  Our night is packed and we both work out of the home.  If we didn't allow a little extra time at night we would hardly see each other.  We also don't do baths every night.  I know, gasp, right?!  My boys have eczema.  It isn't bad, but each of them have it in little patches from time to time.  So, we do baths every other night.  I say my goodnights to the oldest two and go off to getting Weston to bed.  Dale stays with the big boys.  Sometimes there are stories.  There are usually prayers.  Sometimes there are laughs.  Sometimes big giggles.  Sometimes there are tears.  There are always kisses and hugs.  Sometimes it takes just a couple of minutes.  Sometimes much longer. 

While Dale gets them down I have my time with my baby.  When Weston was still in the swaddling stages I would take him to our bed and lay him at the foot of it.  With his blanket perfectly spread out beneath him and one corner neatly folded I would carefully lay his tired body down.  I would wrap and tuck and smoothly rub from his shoulders to his belly.  Like a little mummy he would lay there with just his cute little face staring at mine.  I would slowly kiss his forehead.  Then his nose and then his tiny little chin.  I would melt every time his long eyelashes would meet.  Top to bottom.  Slow and relaxed.  Still. Calm. Slow.  Loved.  I think he enjoyed each kiss as much as I did.  I wouldn't want to pick him up to take him to bed.  I could cuddle that baby boy forever just staring at that perfectly soft smooth skin and those dark brown eyes. 
 
Time felt as if it was slowed down for once.  A time I took advantage of and soaked in because I knew how quickly it would slip through my fingers.  I charised those times. 
 
Once he got passed this stage bedtime started getting harder.  He was over cuddling and I ached for that quiet peaceful time with him.  Now, he's back to wanting kisses.  He wants cuddled more and more each night. 
 
Early this morning when I was the only one in the house on my feet I peeked into his room.  As soon as he heard the door he popped up never letting go of his soft blue blanket.  He rubbed the blanket on his face as he tried to force his tired eyes open.  I held him.  Cuddled his warm, tired, heavy, body.   He found a place for his head to perfectly fit on my shoulder. The blanket still clutched in his hand and rubbing the place between his upper lip and right cheek bone.  I was brought back to his swaddling days.  He sighed as much as I felt like sighing.  I didn't want to put him back down.  Perfection is what I call it.  The reason why I wanted to be a mom.  The love I wanted to feel and to give.  The heart I wanted by my side. 
 
A dream come true and more blessings than I deserve.

Little Mr. - Orifice Parenting

There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us. These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be. I plan to share one of these every Thursday. They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.
______________________________________________________________________________

Let's lighten things up around here, shall we?!
 
This week is short, silly, and sweet....
 
I have LOVED the age of 5.  Parents, this is my piece of advice to you, don't get your hopes up that 2 is tough and no other age is.  Around our house, the terrible two's start around 18 months (12 months if you are Weston or the youngest brother) and they cccooonnnttiiinnnuuueeeee THROUGH age 4.  Five?  Five brought Dale and I some much needed relief.  Wyatt helps, unloads the dishwasher, gathers the trash bags, DRESSES HIMSELF, puts things in the fridge, picks up the living room (the way I would), cleans his room, and brings me the boy's laundry baskets.  I can't believe I almost forgot this one, but he also WIPES HIMSELF acceptably among other things that I am sure are slipping my mind right now. He's also a HUGE help with Weston most of the time.  When mommy or daddy aren't available for a hug, big brother will do. 
 
We have appreciated this beyond words since life is crazy and keeping up drives us crazy.  Not to mention one less child whining about everything.  HOWEVER, things are not all rainbows and fishing poles 100% of the time.  He doesn't have this helping spirit everyday.  He still has his moments when he is being a little... let's just say it ends in "hole". 
 
There were times I would do anything to try to get him out of that mood.  Everything I tried seemed to blow up bigger in my face.  One day apparently I was feeling less than mature when I grabbed him.  I hugged him tightly close to my body.  I took my fingers and tried to widen his eye.   Then I yelled.  I yelled right into his eye, "Wyatt, sweet Wyatt, are you in there?"  That made him laugh, but he still wanted to tighten his lips so I yelled up his nose, " Wyatt, please, sweet Wyatt, I need you.  Please come out of there."  It was working.  He was laughing to say the least.  For the finale I flipped him over and yelled into his clothed poop shoot, "Sweet Wyatt, you've got to come out of there.  There is this mean boy that is trying to be you and I know he isn't.  You've got to come out and rescue us."  That's it.  It did the trick.  I've had to use this A+ parenting skill a few more times.  Works like a charm!


Please, feel free to follow me in my parenting journey.  Maybe one day I will write the book for you all since I have this crap figured out, obvs!

Little Mr.

There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special.  They are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little snippets to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be.
____________________________________________________________________________

This week's addition:  How I taught Wyatt to spell his name at 2. 

You all know the kid's song BINGO, right.  Well, I changed it up a bit like I do with many songs around the house because sometimes all I can do to break the tears, screams, and whining frustrations are to break out in ridiculous songs.  You might find this out about me through this little series.  I used to never do anything I thought would embarrass me.  Oh, how times have changed! 

Back to BINGO.

I used to teach cubbies in Awana at church and one Wednesday night a little girl was writing her name and started singing it to the Bingo song.  This was way before I had kids, but it was brilliant and I stored it in the memory bank for later.  Yes, I stole the idea.

"There was a girl who had a boy and Wyatt was his nameooohhh W.Y.ATT, W.Y.ATT, W.Y.ATT and Wyatt was his nameooohhhh." 

I would sing it over and over to him from as early as I can remember.  One night on vacation we had a 20 to 30 minute car ride to a restaurant in a car full of our friends.  Wyatt was out of the ordinary cranky and cried the whole way there.  The entire vehicle was singing his name song to him just to get a little piece of no crying baby quiet.  It didn't help but gave us a reason to be ridiculous instead of miserable.  Plus we could yell louder than he could cry. 
Never-the-less by the time he was 2 and way before he could write he was able to spell his name.  It was a major payoff when he started school.  He could also spell Waylon's, our dog Marcus', and mommy and daddy as well.  He would request random things to throw in the song from time to time leaving me having to be pretty creative in making the word work.  It's a great learning tool to use.  Look at me being all homeschoolish.  I have severely lacked in educating Waylon in this way and need to get a jump on this quick! 

Little Mr. - Wyatt the Hyper Hypo

There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us.  These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be. I plan to share one of these every Thursday.  They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.

So leave it to me to start something and completely forgot I did!  Hopefully I'll remember going forward.

The night of Weston's birthday party I was preparing cupcakes before hand.  Wyatt, of course, was licking the spatula I used to spread some of the icing.  He had chocolate all over his face even on his neck.  The night before we bought the boys bicycle helmets.  They.never.take.them.off.  So, he undoubtedly had his bike helmet on and the chin strap latched snug. 

He stood there in the corner of the living room right under the light with a huge grin amongst all of the chocolate on his face.  I couldn't help but picture Mike Myers from SNL doing the Hyper Hypo scene.  I started to laugh.  His grin got wider and he asked me what was so funny. 

As I bent down to talk to him and explain why I was laughing so hysterically I couldn't help but realize just how grown up he was getting.  As I'm on my knees I have to look up to see those beautiful blue eyes. 

"There is a show me and daddy sometimes watch.  A long time ago they had this hyper hypo kid...."  I went on to explain the story and share this memory with him.  I even physically acted like I was the one in the helmet attached to the playground.  It was hysterical and we both had sore faces and bellies from laughing so hard. 

It was the first time I shared one of my memories with him where it felt like I was talking to a friend.  It certainly felt like I was laughing with a friend.  It gave me a warm feeling inside and a little bit of reassurance that one day, when we are supposed to be friends, we will be. 

Little Mr. Series - 1st kiss

There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. This morning after a good relaxing recovery workout these little memories were running through my head. As I rushed through a shower I decided I would just start blogging them. They are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little snippets to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be. I want these for proof. I’ll pull up my blog and say, “I beg to differ little Mr.!”


So, I’m thinking on Thursday’s I’ll share them here. Mainly for me, but feel free to enjoy them too. Some may be short some may be long.  I assure you that some will be funny, but all of them are special to me.

This morning I entered Weston's room like I do every weekday morning.  Turned off his fan, turned on his closet light, and grabbed a diaper.  He was already sitting up with his hands stretched out ready to be picked up and snuggled.  In routine he offered his cheek to me for squishy kisses.  I kissed it several times as I do every time I lift his heavy little baby body to mine.  I headed to the changing table my arm bearing his tired body. He had his usual bed head and swollen eyes.  As I stood holding him at the end of the table in his red and blue footed jammies I pulled his binky out of his mouth and asked for a kiss. This 366 day old boy puckered up his lips and leaned in to kiss me for real for the very first time. His plump little lips fit so perfectly to mine.  It may not happen again for another 365 days, but I will take it. It was Melt.My.Heart good! What a perfect way to start my day!