Question for the day:  why do you usually only drool during a nap?   In my forty years of sleeping, I can count the number of times I’ve woken up at night drowning in a drool puddle on one hand…ok, maybe two hands, half a foot, plus a quarter of a toe.  According to my husband, I drool enough to bathe a small town nightly, but have not seen evidence to prove this.

During naps, though, I’d believe him.  He, however, wins the gigantic Flavor Flav clock of nap time drool (crowns are too bulky), and oddly enough, it’s always on MY pillow. He says it’s because my pillows are nicer…uh huh.  But if we’re going to talk about drool, the two-year olds win the prize.  Just yesterday, even though it was 175 degrees in Northeast Ohio, the kids’ room was a cool 74, so I know the huge puddles of wet wasn’t sweat.  The telltale line from their sweet little rosebud mouths to the huge growing wet spot on their sheets was a giveaway.

I just closed my eyes for a second while I was sitting here at my breakfast nook, watching my koi outside slowly boil into my dinner this hot Ohio morning, and as I jerked awake, I admit, there was drool.  It’s amazing, it could only have been for ten seconds, yet the spitometer is ready and raring to go.  Why am I tired?  It’s only 8 a.m!

I get up with my husband, he doesn’t understand it.  He thinks I’m certifiable for not sleeping in a bit longer.  Why get up at 6:30 a.m. when I can sleep until 8 or even 8:30?  Well, for one thing, the twins rarely sleep that long where I can sleep in peace, his waking up still means I’m up a bit, so I can’t go back to sleep that well anyway, PLUS, I really, really, really don’t like to be woken up by screams of children over a monitor.  I also get a ton of stuff done between getting us up and the kids up.

Give or take a few things but my today is pretty typical: got up, made the bed, packed my husband’s lunch, made him some breakfast on the go, coffee, saw him off, watered the plants and the greenhouse things that we really need to re-pot or we’re going to have a Little Shop of Horrors thing going on soon, cleaned the kitchen, emptied the dishwasher, did the laundry, folded last night’s laundry I forget about in the dryer, fed the fish, straightened up the bedroom, bathroom, and family room, made me some pop in my SodaStream Soda maker (I love that thing), worked on some reports on a website I moderate on, checked my email, wrote a few checks, typed a document for my husband, wrote this, got the kids’ breakfast ready, and am on the way to get the kids up.  All in what is now an hour and fifteen minutes.

If I tried to do all that when they were up, it would take me about seventeen and a half hours.  I also clean up as I go all day long, because not doing that gives me the hives.  When I leave to go somewhere for a little bit and my husband hangs with the kids, he gets a kick out of leaving the aftermath for me to see. I get a sheepish look when I walk in the door along with a: “Hi honey, something exploded in the family room!”  then he runs away laughing.  It is pretty funny that they get out every. single. toy when he’s alone with them.  Hmm, I might need a nanny-cam to see who’s really playing with all those toys.

My kids are doing jumping jacks upstairs in their cribs, it sounds like the ceiling might come down, and I’m ready for a nap.  All my work this morning is going to be ruined in a few minutes.  But if my one twin calls me “mommeeee” this morning like he has been lately, it’s all worth it.  But even if he doesn’t, I’m going to get that: “MOMMA!”  I get when I walk in the door to get them. It’s nice.  Makes me feel like a celebrity.  I don’t mind being the most popular woman in my home, drool and all.

Oh, did I mention I had to change the sheets last night because one of the twins peed on my side of the bed while watching Elmo and it soaked all the way down to the mattress?  I didn’t notice until we went to bed last night. Gross.  My husband said it was because MY side is nicer…