Baby Boy turned 28 yesterday.
He called about 3:45pm to tell me he was stuck in Monkeytown working. Literally stuck. Several of them had ridden to work together and the guy who drove them had gotten sick early on and left them all there on their own. "Can you keep the kids so Dilly can come pick us up?" he asked. Well, Dilly and I had already discussed me keeping the kids a little while so they could have a date night for his birthday. So it was all good, except that date night was screwed. Unless you want date night with a cast of thousands.
Even though they were not supposed to be spending the night - I'm trying to keep it loose because Lovey's baby number 5 is due ANY MINUTE NOW - they were making their nests, so I called Baby Boy and told him to just leave the munchkins with me overnight. They were actually on the way to get them, but we argued about it and he finally gave in. What? I'm his mama, he has to do what I say :).
This may have been a mistake. Because now it's 4am and I am totally awake. I have three sleeping babies, although the older two would argue that they are not babies. The older two fell asleep watching TV on the blow up mattress in the middle of the living room floor and Doodlebug is sprawled on the sofa. Who knew that a 20-month-old could take up so much room? That, and she waffles between being a cuddler (wants to snuggle while she sleeps) and a "I-need-to-sleep-on-your-head"-er. Ugh. Which explains why it's 4am and why I'm blogging.
And why I'm done. I don't want her to wake up screaming because I'm not there.
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