This kid is the best baby in the whole wide world during the day.
And the worst baby in the whole wide world during the night.
OK maybe not the worst baby because we have fortunately passed the new born sleep stage. But not by much.
It is as almost as funny as it is frustrating to watch the sweet cherub morph into a tyrannical crazy pants as soon as he gets even a whiff of bedtime. Consistency is his middle name because we vary nary a smidgen off the beaten path of back arching, sticking limbs through crib slots, screaming baby obscenities, and other hysterics. He then repeats this at midnight, if we're feeling lonely 4:30AM and the again 6:30AM before he decides to permanently greet the day at 7:27AM. I love the turkey, but the only thing I miss at 4:30AM is the previous 6 hours of sleep. Any suggestions on how to remedy the whole ridiculous routine? Other than crying it out. That's not really my thing. (PS he is teething something crazy so I know that has to do with the night time shenanigans.)
He's lucky that throughout the day he is always weirdly, dopily content, naps pleasantly, tolerates Rhett's abuse, dresses himself, performs his daily chores without complaint, rubs my feet and smiles on command. A very lucky duck indeed.
Easter was good. Jake didn't have to be at church at 6:00 in the AM, which meant that our home had a much more Christlike vibe while we got everyone ready for church. I often feel like God is not super pleased with how our Sabbath starts out when it's just me home getting the boys to accept that Yo Gaba Gaba jammas are not exactly what we wear to church. Usually if I feel like I can go to church with a relatively low guilt complex for my mothering that week, I get sufficiently humbled on Sunday mornings. Religion with toddlers: bribery with suckers to make them sit and be reverent.
We do Easter baskets on Saturday in an attempt to help (mostly Rhett) the boys to differentiate between the Easter bunny Easter and the Christ centered Easter. One thing we don't do in Easter baskets is that horrible green grass. Can I get an amen?
Rhett'd outgrown his push bike so although it seemed to generous to give credit to the Easter Bunny for, we got him a pedal bike from Walmart.
Poor Rad had a rather small potatoes Easter compared to the grandeur of the bike. He got a large clear/glittery kick ball. But bless his last-in-the-line-up heart he loves that ball.
Rhett's sunday school teacher said when asked what Christ did for us he responded with "Jesus made it OK for my Mom to say sorry cuz she told me no so much."
And that is just about all folks.