Sleep Deprived and Twitchy

Erin and I found ourselves stretched a little thin yesterday as the boys' boundless energy ran up against our more limited supply. At some point in the mid-afternoon, probably around 4 or so, we both hit the wall at the same time. Thinking back on the events of the week-end, I now realize we were contending with a perfect storm of behavioral issues. These included Jack’s sore molars, loss of appetite and resulting moodiness and Dimitri’s return from a visit with his father, which often triggers a cascade of bad manners and general grumpiness. We are usually pretty good at dealing with the boys' high-octane personalities, but we have been laboring mightily to get the apartment in shape and when Sunday night rolled around we were both pretty tired. There is, of course, no way to turn them off or turn the volume down. You just have to roll with it. Which isn’t to say you can’t carve out a few minutes of sanity here and there. I ran out of the house at 7:45pm after eagerly volunteering to jump-start E’s car which had been sitting powerless and forlorn in front of the post office for a few days. After successfully getting the motor to turn over, I hopped in and took a cruise to the gas station and filled up before taking a long slow drive back. (To charge the battery, of course). By the time I hit the front door I knew I was going to survive the rest of the night without resorting to anti-anxiety medication, whiskey or cigarettes.

I have discovered that dealing with two boys is a lot more challenging that dealing with one. Mathematically, this doesn’t make sense. There may be two boys, but there are also two of us. In theory *we* should have the upper hand, insofar as we are more mature, wiser, carry a certain air of parental authority and can manipulate their environment to produce desired behavior. (After all, we control the food supply). What I apparently failed to consider was the fact that they are younger, faster, more motivated and work devilishly well together. This takes our intellectual and physical advantage and nullifies it through their sheer application of boyish energy. Most times we have a lot of fun, but sometimes they get the upper hand and wear us down to dust. I can usually tell I’m in trouble when I feel like going to bed two hours before Jack does. I feel like I now understand why people do this when they are a lot younger.

I promise the next few posts will highlight the fun stuff, lest I convey the mistaken impression that its all wandering around sleep-deprived and twitchy, which, for the most part, it isn’t. :-)