Yawn.

I'm so tired I could fall asleep like this:

Tate woke up this morning at 5 am. Sucky, yeah, but nothing I haven't done before, a bajillion times. Although it was extra special fun this morning, because he rolled over (he had crawled into our bed around 4, one of his really great, enjoyable new habits), looked at me, and burst into terrified, panicked tears. Because, you see, I am not Daddy. I'm just this horrible freak of nature known as Mommy. It took a good 45 minutes for him to stop wailing and asking if Daddy was downstairs. I kept trying to tell him Daddy was at work but apparently giving that answer earns one a kick in the shin. He finally calmed down, just in time for Nora to wake up. And the day's festivities have begun.

The crazy thing is, yesterday was worse. How could it be worse than waking up at 5 am next to a crying kid, you ask? Why, waking up at 3:50 am next to a crying kid, silly! And that's exactly what I did. Nora cut me a break and lounged in her crib til 5:30...what a pal. So Tate was awake from 3:50 til about 8:45, when he passed out on the couch as evidenced above. I was all ready to go back to sleep since Nora had gone down for an early nap but as we all know, my children do everything in their power to ensure I never get any sleep, ever. Nora woke up 15 minutes after Tate fell asleep. But get this. Tate slept until almost 2 pm. Pretty much the whole freaking day. 8:45 til 2. And Nora went down for her nap at 1:45! Another 15 minutes of silence! I know, right? My options of what to do for those glorious 900 seconds were simply endless.

So yesterday pretty much passed by in a fog for me. I vaguely remember talking to a couple friends on the phone but it's just a distant memory at this point. Pam and Nicole, if you're reading this, I have no idea what I said to you guys. Hopefully it wasn't anything more offensive and moronic than usual.

In other news, I got Tate some Elmo underpants just for the hell of it. The kid won't even look at his potty, much less sit on it, but I figured he could just kind of hang out with the underwear, they could get to know each other, forge a relationship, become confidantes, whatever. He does seem to like his little mini-briefs, and keeps trying to slip him over his head which makes for some amusing moments. He won't do it for the camera, though. Kid's too smart for his own good. He knows those pictures would be trotted out regularly at family gatherings for years to come.

He also has this toy phone that has Buzz Lightyear on it that he's obssessed with. So obssessed he can never remember Buzz's name, so we have this exchange about 35083 times a day.

Tate: "Who's that?"

Me or Eric: "Buzz Lightyear."

Tate: "Yeah! Buzz Whitehair!"

Me: "Sure."

30 seconds later

Tate: "Mommy, who is that right there? That guy, right there?"

Me: "That's still Buzz Lightyear"

Tate: "HAHAHA!! BUZZ WHITEHAIR!"

30 seconds later

Tate: "Who's-"

Me: "BUZZ. LIGHT. YEAR"

Tate: "Who is that, Mommy?"

Me: BANG BANG BANG. That's me pounding my head against the wall.

Seriously. 35083 times a day. At least Nora can't talk yet. At this point it's all squeals and growls. Which is fun too.

The four of us are going to Wisconsin Dells tomorrow to stay in a waterpark resort for a couple days. We're renting a condo with another family that we're friends with. It could be a blast, or a complete, unmitigated disaster. Sue, consider this my advance apology. Just in case it's needed. All I know is I'm wearing my kids out during the day. Like, to the point of dropping over. They'll sleep then, right? You'll see Tate climbing up the 40 steps to the top of the waterslide all by himself, over and over, pulling a 20 lb raft. Hell, Nora will do it too. Tate can run laps in the lazy river, against the currant. I'll float by with a drink in one hand and a stopwatch in the other.

We'll see how that works.