Thursday, March 6, 2014

Jail Bird

"We're looking to bust Johnny out, but Ricky won't come because he says he's too used to life on the inside."

Morning Readers,

Well, yesterday was the first day of Lent, and, like the sage person I am, I gave up yelling at my children for the next forty days.

In other news, we're going to pretend that Lent actually starts today because, after the last twenty-four hours, I'm surprised I have a voice left. This is why they don't leave the making of the church calendar to me.

Here's what Jesus and I saw at 1:00pm yesterday....

*Slam* "Momma?"

"Crap."

"Moooooomma!"

"Why are you out of your crib?"

"Hi."

Side note to Jesus: I swear, Lord, I really tried, but the fact that nap time had been shot down in it's early stages and wasn't to be resumed for an untold amount of time, was a little much on top of the twins punching each other in the face.

Chubby leg over chubby leg, Doc made the statement not to fence him in, and pulled an official Shawshank to freedom. Truth be told, I stood there and watched him do it after the fact, and if he doesn't become some sort of toddler body builder, I'll be stunned. I won't help him with that weird self-tanning thing, but I'll be stunned.

"So you're not going to stay in there?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Cookie."

"Priorities. We need to sort them out."

After that, I did what any woman looking for backup would do, and consulted you fine people on Facebook.

"Lower the mattress."
"Lock the door!"
"Put up a baby gate."
"Duct tape!"
"Put him back in bed, and if he walks out again, pretend you don't know him and move to Dubuque."

Ok, I may have added that last one myself, but I'd just like to say how much your suggestions made me love you guys even more than I already do. Which is a lot. A scary lot. More than I should be letting on right now.

Moving on.

I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how this evening would go down, until I discovered the mattress, which had previously been thought to have been lowered as far as it could go, still had a few notches left. Joy! Elation! I'd break out the screw driver and do it myself and watch the kids at the same time! Genius.

Now, traditionally, Husband has always asked my help when he's lowered any of the cribs, but I laughed arrogantly as I undid all the screws and lowered that mattress.

The roaring was happening because I was woman.
The baby couldn't get out now.
The baby got out.

But all wasn't lost. In my final hour of sanity, looking towards a night full of toddlers running down hallways, inspiration struck.

Husband looked at me. "Just let it go. Don't fight it."
"I will not." I whispered.

And with that, I took out the bottom of the bed and stacked the twin's old mattresses inside. It was a little unorthodox, perfectly secure, and most of all, when Doc went to throw his chubby foot over the side, he just. couldn't. make it.

Mom- 3 Toddler - 0

For now.

Until Next Time, Readers!