Getting to this point has been a struggle. The bath swamped the bathroom, requiring bath towels for both your children and for your floor. Getting on pajamas took on the flavor of a hostage negotiation with a Alzheimer's patient.
"NO!! I want the BLUE ones!"
"You're WEARING the blue ones, son."
The smaller one resists your efforts to put a diaper on her by rolling away and cackling madly with glee as you give chase, her fat little legs and arms pumping madly as she sprints across the bed.
Teeth brushing wasn't much better. You weren't aware when you signed up for this gig that it would involve a wrestling tournament that would challenge John Cena.
Finally, the toddler is in bed. The baby is distracted with a toy and the lights go off. You take a deep breath.
"Ok. I believe in..."
"NO! NO! AUUGGGG!!"
Finally, the toddler is in bed. The baby is distracted with a toy and the lights go off. You take a deep breath.
"Ok. I believe in..."
"NO! NO! AUUGGGG!!"
"No, honey, we don't yell. Say 'my turn, please'"
(subdued, but with an edge of triumph) "My turn, please."
So it begins.
The First Decade, (The Agony in the Garden):
Your child, still in charge of leading the prayers, has decided to emulate a scratched CD in a fifteen year old stereo with a volume control on the fritz.
"Hail...Ma...RY! Full...of...grACE!...THE...LORD...is..with...THEE!"
You dig in your metaphorical heels, and grimace. You focus on the moment, knowing thinking about doing this for the next twenty minuets will sap your much needed patience and self control.
The baby is happily distracted fidgeting with a toy car. For now.
The Second Decade, (The Scourging at the Pillar):
Unable to take the strain any longer, you cut in and take over. You and your spouse relay the prayers back and forth, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the furious cries of your dethroned toddler. Such wailing and gnashing of teeth has not been heard since the last temper tantrum when you turned off his beloved train video.
The baby has decided she wants to be where the action is, and is attempting to scale your leg. You sit on the floor to placate her.
The Third Decade, (The Crowning with Thorns):
Your child has decided to start a counter- Rosary as a form of protest. Though you're halfway through the decade of Hail Mary's, your child insists on reciting the Our Father.
"Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee.."
"Our Father...NO MOMMA!!"
"Blessed are thou among women.."
"Who art in HEAVEN. HALLOWED be thy NAME..."
Seeing that the counter Rosary is having no effect, he starts branching out into songs he's heard on TV.
"Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary.."
"Let's COUNT DOWN to CALM DOWN...Momma! Count down to calm down!!"
"No honey, it's time to pray the Rosary now."
The baby has been sitting on your lap. She decides it's snack time...NOW. You pull up your shirt to nurse, and the baby tries out her just-cut-through teeth. Your yelp of pain is hardly noticed in the general cacophony.
The Fourth Decade, (The Carrying of the Cross):
Your toddler has finally begun to quiet, and is beginning to drift off. You're not out of the woods yet though.
"I'm sorry Momma. Momma, I'm sorry."
"I forgive you, honey. Holy Mary, mother of God..."
"Momma, I'm SORRY."
"I know you are honey. Pray for us sinners.."
He gets quiet. You freeze. Maybe he finally fell asleep. You gingerly start the next prayer.
"Hail Mary..."
"Momma, I'm SORRY."
Nope. Not quite there yet.
The baby is mostly asleep. She stirs and starts nursing again every time your toddler says something.
The Fifth Decade, (The Crucifixion):
The outbursts have gotten quieter, shorter, and further apart. Finally, they stop, and you suddenly notice the quiet.
He's finally asleep.
You tiptoe out of the room, sleeping baby in arms. You go to lay her down, slowly, slowly...
She wakes up.
"Hail...Ma...RY! Full...of...grACE!...THE...LORD...is..with...THEE!"
You dig in your metaphorical heels, and grimace. You focus on the moment, knowing thinking about doing this for the next twenty minuets will sap your much needed patience and self control.
The baby is happily distracted fidgeting with a toy car. For now.
The Second Decade, (The Scourging at the Pillar):
Unable to take the strain any longer, you cut in and take over. You and your spouse relay the prayers back and forth, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the furious cries of your dethroned toddler. Such wailing and gnashing of teeth has not been heard since the last temper tantrum when you turned off his beloved train video.
The baby has decided she wants to be where the action is, and is attempting to scale your leg. You sit on the floor to placate her.
The Third Decade, (The Crowning with Thorns):
Your child has decided to start a counter- Rosary as a form of protest. Though you're halfway through the decade of Hail Mary's, your child insists on reciting the Our Father.
"Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee.."
"Our Father...NO MOMMA!!"
"Blessed are thou among women.."
"Who art in HEAVEN. HALLOWED be thy NAME..."
Seeing that the counter Rosary is having no effect, he starts branching out into songs he's heard on TV.
"Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary.."
"Let's COUNT DOWN to CALM DOWN...Momma! Count down to calm down!!"
"No honey, it's time to pray the Rosary now."
The baby has been sitting on your lap. She decides it's snack time...NOW. You pull up your shirt to nurse, and the baby tries out her just-cut-through teeth. Your yelp of pain is hardly noticed in the general cacophony.
The Fourth Decade, (The Carrying of the Cross):
Your toddler has finally begun to quiet, and is beginning to drift off. You're not out of the woods yet though.
"I'm sorry Momma. Momma, I'm sorry."
"I forgive you, honey. Holy Mary, mother of God..."
"Momma, I'm SORRY."
"I know you are honey. Pray for us sinners.."
He gets quiet. You freeze. Maybe he finally fell asleep. You gingerly start the next prayer.
"Hail Mary..."
"Momma, I'm SORRY."
Nope. Not quite there yet.
The baby is mostly asleep. She stirs and starts nursing again every time your toddler says something.
The Fifth Decade, (The Crucifixion):
The outbursts have gotten quieter, shorter, and further apart. Finally, they stop, and you suddenly notice the quiet.
He's finally asleep.
You tiptoe out of the room, sleeping baby in arms. You go to lay her down, slowly, slowly...
She wakes up.
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